T HE DUEL 
 
 A K U P R I N
 
 THE DUEL
 
 THE DUEL 
 
 A. KUPRIN 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 1916
 
 K 
 
 (All rights reserved) \
 
 THE DUEL 
 
 THE 6th Company's afternoon drill was nearly 
 over, and the junior officers looked with increasing 
 frequency at their watches, and with growing im- 
 patience. The rank and file of the new regiment 
 were being instructed in garrison duty. Along the 
 whole of the extensive parade-ground the soldiers 
 stood in scattered groups: by the poplars that 
 bordered the causeway, by the gymnastic apparatus, 
 by the door of the company's school, and in the 
 neighbourhood of the butts. All these places were 
 to represent during the drill the most important 
 buildings in the garrison the commander's resi- 
 dence, the headquarters, the powder magazine, the 
 administration department, etc. Sentries were 
 posted and relieved ; patrols marched here and 
 there, shouting at and saluting each other in military 
 fashion ; harsh non-commissioned officers visited and 
 examined the sentries on duty, trying, sometimes by 
 a trick, sometimes by pretended threats, to fool the 
 soldiers into infringing the rules, e.g. to quit their 
 posts, give up their rifles, to take charge of con- 
 traband articles, etc. The older men, who had had 
 previous experience of such practical jokes, were 
 very seldom taken in, but answered rudely, " The 
 Tsar alone gives orders here," etc., etc. The young 
 recruits, on the other hand, often enough fell into 
 the snare set for them. 
 
 5
 
 6 THE DUEL 
 
 " Khliabnikov 1 " a stout little " non-com." cried 
 angrily in a voice which betrayed a passion for 
 ruling. "What did I tell you just now, simpleton? 
 Did I put you under arrest? What are you sticking 
 there for, then? Why don't you answer? " 
 
 In the third platoon a tragi-comic scene took 
 place. Moukhamedjinov, a young soldier, Tartar 
 by birth, was not yet versed in the Russian language. 
 He got more and more confused under the com- 
 mander's irritating and insidious questions. At last 
 he lost his head entirely, brought his rifle to the 
 charge, and threatened all the bystanders with the 
 bayonet . 
 
 " Stop, you madman I " roared Sergeant Bobuilev. 
 " Can't you recognize your own commander, your 
 own captain? " 
 
 " Another step and you are a dead man I " 
 shouted the Tartar, in a furious rage. His eyes were 
 bloodshot, arid he nervously repelled with his bayonet 
 all who approached him. Round about him, but 
 at a respectful distance, a crowd of soldiers flocked 
 together, accepting with joy and gratitude this 
 interesting little interlude in the wearisome drill. 
 
 Sliva, the captain of the company, approached 
 to see what was going on. While he was on the 
 opposite side of the parade-ground, where, with bent 
 back and dragging steps, he tottered slowly back- 
 wards and forwards, a few young officers assembled 
 in a small group to smoke and chatter. They 
 were three, all told: Lieutenant Viatkin, a bald, 
 moustached man of thirty-three, a jovial fellow, 
 chatterbox, singer, and particularly fond of his glass ; 
 Sub- Lieutenant Romashov, who had hardly served 
 two years in the regiment ; and, lastly, Sub-Ensign 
 Lbov, a lively, well-shaped young man, with an 
 expression of shrewd geniality in his pale eyes and
 
 THE DUEL 7 
 
 an eternal smile on his thick, innocent lips. He 
 passed for a peripatetic storehouse of anecdotes, 
 specially crammed with old and worn-out officers' 
 stories. 
 
 " This is an out-and-out scandal," said Viatkin, as 
 he looked at his dainty little watch, the case of which 
 he angrily closed with a little click. "What the 
 devil does he mean by keeping the company all 
 this time? " 
 
 ' You should ask him that question, Pavel 
 Pavlich," replied Lbov, with a sly look. 
 
 " Oh, go to the devil ! Go and ask him your- 
 self. But the point which I want to emphasize is 
 that the whole business is utterly futile ; there is 
 always this fuss before the review, and every time 
 they overdo it. The soldiers are so worried and 
 badgered, that at the review they stand like block- 
 heads. Do you know that story about the two 
 captains who made a pretty heavy bet as to which 
 of them had in his company the best trencher-man ? 
 When one of the ' champions ' had consumed seven 
 pounds of bread he was obliged to acknowledge him- 
 self beaten. His Captain, furious with indignation, 
 sent for his sergeant-major, and said : ' What made 
 you send me a creature like that ? After his seventh 
 pound he had to give up, and I've lost my wager 1 ' 
 The poor sergeant-major stared at his superior. 
 ' I don't know what could have happened to him, 
 your Excellency. This very morning I rehearsed 
 with him, and then he ate eight pounds without any 
 ado.' It's the same case here, gentlemen. We 
 rehearse without mercy and common-sense up to the 
 very last, and thus, when the tug-of-war comes, the 
 soldier drops down from sheer weariness." 
 
 " Last night," began Lbov, who could hardly get 
 his words out for laughing " last night, when the
 
 8 THE DUEL 
 
 drill was over, I went to my quarters. It was past 
 eight, and quite dark then. As I was approaching 
 the barracks of the I ith Company I heard some 
 ear-piercing music from there. I go there and am 
 told that the men are being taught our horn signals. 
 All the recruits were obliged to sing in chorus. It 
 was a hideous concert, and I asked Lieutenant 
 Andrusevich how any one could put up with such a 
 row so late at night. He answered laughingly, 
 1 Why shouldn't we now and then, like the dogs, 
 howl at the moon? ' " 
 
 " Now I can't stand this any longer," interrupted 
 Viatkin, with a yawn. " But who's that riding down 
 there? It looks like Biek." 
 
 " Yes, it's Biek-Agamalov," replied sharp-sighted 
 Lbbv. " Look how beautifully he rides." 
 
 " Yes, he does," chimed in Romashov. " To my 
 thinking, he rides better than any other of our 
 cavalrymen. But just look at his horse dancing. 
 Biek is showing off." 
 
 An officer, wearing an Adjutant's uniform and 
 white gloves, was riding quietly along the causeway. 
 He was sitting on a high, slim-built horse with a 
 gold-coloured and short-clipped tail, after the 
 English fashion. The spirited animal pirouetted 
 under his rider, and impatiently shook its branch-bit 
 by the violent tossings of its long and nobly formed 
 neck. 
 
 " Pavel Pavlich, is it a fact that Biek is a 
 Circassian by birth? " asked Romashov. 
 
 " Yes, I think so," answered Viatkin. " Arme- 
 nians pretend sometimes that they are Circassians or 
 Lezghins, 1 but nobody can be deceived with regard 
 
 1 The Lezghins are among the medley of mountain tribes living 
 in Daghestan and part of the Terek province. These mountaineers of 
 the Eastern Caucasus are nearly all Sun'i Mohammedans.
 
 to Biek. Only look how he carries himself on 
 horseback." 
 
 " Wait, I'll call him," said Lbov. 
 
 Lbov put his hands to his mouth, and tried to 
 form out of them a sort of speaking-tube, and 
 shouted in a suppressed voice, so as not to be 
 heard by the Commander 
 
 " Lieutenant Agamalov-Biek 1 " 
 
 The officer on horseback pulled the reins, stopped 
 for a second, and swung in the saddle towards the 
 right. Then he also turned his horse to the right, 
 bent slightly forward, and, with a springy and 
 energetic movement, jumped the ditch, and rode in 
 a short gallop up to the officers. 
 
 He was a man somewhat below the medium 
 height, lean, muscular, and very powerful. His 
 countenance, with its receding forehead, delicate, 
 aquiline nose, and strong, resolute lines about the 
 mouth, was manly and handsome, and had not yet 
 got the pale and sickly hue that is so charac- 
 teristic of the Oriental when he is getting on 
 in years. 
 
 " Good-day, Biek," was Viatkin's greeting. 
 " Who was the girl for whom you were exercising 
 your arts of seduction down there, you lady-killer? " 
 
 Biek-Agamalov shook hands with the officers, 
 whilst with an easy and graceful movement he bent 
 slightly forward in the saddle. He smiled, and his 
 gleaming white and even row of teeth cast a sort of 
 lustre over the lower part of his face, with its black 
 and splendidly cultivated moustache. 
 
 " Two or three little Jewess girls were there, 
 but what is that to do with me? I took no notice 
 of them." 
 
 " Ah ! we know well enough how you play the 
 game with ladies," said Viatkm jestingly.
 
 io THE DUEL 
 
 " I say ! " interrupted Lbov, with a laugh ; " have 
 you heard what General Dokturov l remarked about 
 the Adjutants in the infantry? It ought to interest 
 you, Biek. He said they were the most dare-devil 
 riders in the whole world." 
 
 " No lies, now, ensign," replied Biek, as he gave 
 his horse the reins and assumed an expression as if 
 he intended to ride down the joker. 
 
 " It's true, by God it is ! ' They ride,' said he, 
 ' the most wretched " crocks " in the world 
 spavined " roarers " and yet, only give the order, 
 and off they fly at the maddest speed over stocks 
 and stones, hedges and ditches reins loose, stirrups 
 dropped, cap flying, ah ! veritable cantaurs.' ' 
 
 "What news, Biek?" asked Viatkin. 
 
 "What news? None. Ah ! stay. A little while 
 ago the Commander of the regiment ran across 
 Lieutenant -Colonel Liekh at mess. Liekh, as drunk 
 as a lord, was wobbling against the wall with his 
 hands behind him, and hardly able to stammer out 
 a syllable. Shulgovich rushed at him like an in- 
 furiated bull, and bellowed in such a way that it 
 might be heard over the whole market-place : 
 ' Please remove your hands from the small of your 
 back when you stand in the presence of your com- 
 manding officer.' And all the servants witnessed 
 this edifying scene." 
 
 " Ah ! that is detestable," chimed in Viatkin, 
 laughing. ' Yesterday, when he favoured the 4th 
 Company with a visit, he shouted : ' Who dares to 
 thrust the regulations in my face? I am your 
 regulations. Not a word more. Here I'm your 
 Tsar and your God.' ' 
 
 Lbov was again laughing at his own thoughts. 
 
 1 One of Russia's bravest and greatest generals in the war with 
 Napoleon, 1812.
 
 THE DUEL II 
 
 " Gentlemen, have you heard what happened to 
 the Adjutant of the 4th Regiment?" 
 
 " Keep your eternal stories to yourself, Lbov," 
 exclaimed Viatkin, interrupting him in a severe tone. 
 " To-day you're worse than usual." 
 
 " I have some more news to tell," Biek- 
 Agamalov went on to sa,y, as he again facetiously 
 threatened Lbov with his horse, which, snorting and 
 shaking its head, beslavered all around it with foam. 
 " The Commander has taken it into his head that 
 the officers of all the companies are to practise 
 sabre-cutting at a dummy. He has aroused a fearful 
 animosity against himself in the 9th Company. 
 Epifanov was arrested for having neglected to 
 sharpen his sabre. But what are you frightened 
 of, Lbov ? He isn't dangerous, and you must teach 
 yourself to make friends with these noble animals. 
 It may, you know, some day fall to your lot to be 
 Adjutant ; but then, I suppose, you will sit your 
 horse as securely as a roast sparrow on a 
 dish." 
 
 "i Retro, Satanas! " cried Lbov, who had some 
 difficulty in protecting himself against the horse's 
 froth-covered muzzle. " You've heard, I suppose, 
 what happened to an Adjutant of the 4th Regiment 
 who bought himself a circus-horse ? At the review 
 itself, right before the eyes of the inspecting 
 General, the well-trained beast began to exhibit its 
 proficiency in the ' Spanish walk.' You know, I 
 suppose, what that is ? At every step the horse's legs 
 are swung high in the air from one side to the 
 other. At last, both horse and rider alighted in 
 the thick of the company. Shrieks, oaths, universal 
 confusion, and a General, half-dead with rage, who 
 at last, by a supreme effort, managed to hiss out : 
 1 Lieutenant and Adjutant, for this exhibition of
 
 12 THE DUEL 
 
 your skill in riding you have twenty-one days' arrest. 
 March I '" 
 
 " What rot I " interrupted Viatkin in an indignant 
 tone. " I say, Biek, the news of the sabre-cutting 
 was by no means a surprise to us. It means that we 
 do not get any free time at all. Turn round and see 
 what an abortion some one brought here yesterday." 
 
 He concluded his sentence by a significant gesture 
 towards the middle of the parade-ground, where a 
 monstrously ugly figure of raw clay, lacking both 
 arms and legs, had been erected. 
 
 " Ha ! look there already. Well, have you tried 
 it?" asked Biek, his interest excited. "Have you 
 had a go at it yet, Romashov? " 
 
 "Not yet." 
 
 " Don't you think I've something better to do than 
 occupy myself with rubbish of that sort? " exclaimed 
 Viatkin angrily. " When am I to find time for 
 that ? From nine in the morning to six at night 1 
 have to be here, there, and everywhere, and hardly 
 manage to giet a bite or sup. Besides, thank God 1 
 I've still my wits about me." 
 
 " What silly talk ! An officer ought to be able to 
 handle his sabre." 
 
 Why? if I may ask. You surely know that in 
 warfare, with the firearms now in use, one never 
 gets within a range of a hundred paces of the 
 enemy. What the devil's the use of a sabre to me? 
 I'm not a cavalryman. When it comes to the point, 
 I shall seize hold of a rifle and bang I So the 
 matter's simple enough. People may say what they 
 please ; the bullet is, after all, the safest." 
 
 " Possibly so ; but, even in time of peace, there 
 are still many occasions when the sabre may come in 
 useful for instance, if one is attacked in street 
 riots, tumults, etc."
 
 THE DUEL 13 
 
 " And you think I should condescend to exchange 
 cuts with the tag-rag of the streets? No, thank 
 you, my good friend . In such a Case I prefer to give 
 the command, ' Aim, fire ' and all's said and done." 
 
 Biek-Agamalov's face darkened. 
 
 " You are talking nonsense, Pavel Pavlich. Now 
 answer me this : Suppose, when you are taking a 
 walk, or are at a theatre or restaurant, some coxcomb 
 insults you or a civilian boxes your ears. What will 
 you do then? " 
 
 Viatkin shrugged his shoulders and protruded his 
 under lip contemptuously. 
 
 " In the first place, that kind of man only attacks 
 those who show that they are afraid of him, and, 
 in the second, I have my revolver." 
 
 "But suppose the revolver were left at home?" 
 remarked Lbov. 
 
 " Then, naturally, I should have to go home and 
 fetch it. What stupid questions \ You seem to 
 have clean forgotten the incident of a certain cornet 
 who was insulted at a music-hall by two civilians. 
 He drove home for his revolver, returned to the 
 music-hall, and cheerfully shot down the pair who 
 had insulted him simple enough." 
 
 Biek-Agamalov made an indignant gesture. " We 
 know we have heard all that, but in telling the 
 story you forget that the cornet in question was 
 convicted of deliberate murder. Truly a very pretty 
 business. If I had found myself in a similar situa- 
 tion, I should have " 
 
 He did not finish his sentence, but the little, 
 well-formed hand in which he held the reins was 
 clenched so hard that it trembled. Lbov was seized 
 with one of his usual paroxysms of laughter. 
 
 "Ah! you're at it again," Viatkin remarked 
 severely .
 
 14 THE DUEL 
 
 " Pardon me, gentlemen, but I really couldn't 
 ha, ha, ha 1 I happened to think of a tragi- 
 comic scene that Was enacted in the i/th Regiment. 
 Sub-Ensign Krause on one occasion had a row with 
 some one in an aristocratic club. The steward, to 
 prevent further mischief, seized him so violently 
 by the shoulder-knot that the latter was torn off, 
 whereupon Krause drew his revolver and put a bullet 
 through the steward's skull. A little lawyer who 
 incautiously mixed himself up in the game shared 
 the same fate. The rest of the party rushed out of 
 the room like so many frightened hens. But Krause 
 quietly proceeded to the camp, and was then chal- 
 lenged by the sentry. 'Who goes there? ' shouted 
 the sentry. ' Sub -Ensign Krause, who is coming to 
 die by the colours of his regiment ' ; whereupon he 
 walked straight up to the colours, laid himself 
 down on the ground, and fired a bullet through 
 his left arm. The court afterwards acquitted 
 him." 
 
 " That was a fine fellow," exclaimed Biek- 
 Agamalov . 
 
 Then began the young officers' usual favourite 
 conversation on duels, fights, and other sanguinary 
 scenes, whereupon it was stated with great satisfac- 
 tion that such transgressions of law and municipal 
 order always went unpunished. Then, for instance, 
 a story was told about how a drunken, beardless 
 cornet had drawn his sword at random on a small 
 crowd of Jews who were returning 1 from keeping the 
 Passover ; how a sub -lieutenant in the infantry had, 
 at a dancing-hall, stabbed to death an under- 
 graduate who happened to elbow him at the buffet, 
 how an officer at St. Petersburg or Moscow shot 
 down like a dog a civilian who dared to make 
 the impertinent observation that decent people were
 
 THE DUEL 15 
 
 not in the habit of accosting ladies with whom 
 they are not acquainted. 
 
 Romashov, who, up to now, had been a silent 
 listener to these piquant stories, now joined in the 
 conversation ; but he did so with every sign of 
 reluctance and embarrassment. He cleared his 
 throat, slowly adjusted his eyeglass, though that 
 was not absolutely necessary then, and finally, in an 
 uncertain voice, spoke as follows 
 
 " Gentlemen, allow me to submit to you this 
 question : In a dispute of that sort it might happen, 
 you know, that the civilian chanced to be a respect- 
 able man, even perhaps a person of noble birth. 
 Might it not, in that case, be more correct to 
 demand of him an explanation or satisfaction ? We 
 should both belong to the cultured class, so to 
 speak." 
 
 " You're talking nonsense, Romashov," inter- 
 rupted Viatkin. " If you want satisfaction from 
 such scum you'll most certainly get the following 
 answer, which is little gratifying : ' Ah, well, my 
 good sir, I do not give satisfaction. That is con- 
 trary to my principles. I loathe duels and blood- 
 shed and besides, you can have recourse, you 
 know, to the Justice of the Peace, in the event 
 of your feeling 1 yourself wronged.' And then, for 
 the whole of your life, you must carry the delightful 
 recollection of an unavenged box on the ears from a 
 civilian." 
 
 Biek-Agamalov smiled in approbation, and with 
 more than his usual generosity showed his whole 
 row of gleaming white teeth. ' Hark you, Viatkin, 
 you ought really to take some interest in this sabre- 
 cutting. With us at our home in the Caucasus we 
 practise it from childhood on bundles of wattles, on 
 water-spouts, the bodies of sheep."
 
 1 6 THE DUEL 
 
 " And men's bodies," remarked Lbov. 
 
 " And on men's bodies," repeated Agamalov with 
 unruffled calm. " And such strokes, too ! In a 
 twinkling they cleave a fellow from his shoulder 
 to the hip." 
 
 " Biek, can you perform a test of strength like 
 that?" 
 
 Biek- Agamalov sighed regretfully. 
 
 " No, alas I A sheep, or a cal> I can say I could 
 cleave to the neck by a single stroke, but to cut a 
 full-grown man down to the waist is beyond my 
 power. To my father it would be a trifle." 
 
 " Come, gentlemen, and let us try our strength 
 and sabres on that scarecrow," said Lbov, in a 
 determined tone and with flashing eyes. "Biek, 
 my dear boy, come with us." 
 
 The officers went up to the clay figure that had 
 been erected a little way off. 'Viatkin was the 
 first to attack it. After endeavouring 1 to impart to 
 his innocent, prosaic face an expression of wild- 
 beast ferocity, he struck the clay man with all his 
 might and with an unnecessarily big flourish of 
 his sabre. At the same time he uttered the 
 characteristic sound " Khryass I " which a butcher 
 makes when he is cutting; up beef. The weapon 
 entered about a quarter of a,n inch into the clay, and 
 Viatkin had some trouble to extricate his brave sabre . 
 
 " Wretchedly done," exclaimed Agamalov, shak- 
 ing his head. " Now, Romashov, it's your turn." 
 
 Romashov drew his sabre from its sheath, and 
 adjusted his eyeglass with a hesitating movement. 
 He was of medium height, lean, and fairly strong in 
 proportion to his build, but through constitutional 
 timidity and lack of interest not much accustomed 
 to handling the weapon. Even as a pupil at the 
 Military Academy he was a bad swordsman, and
 
 THE DUEL 17 
 
 after a year and a half's service in the regiment he 
 had almost completely forgotten the art. 
 
 He raised his sabre high above his head, but 
 stretched out, simultaneously and instinctively, his 
 left arm and hand. 
 
 " Mind your hand I " shouted Agamalov. 
 
 But it was too late then. The point of the sabre 
 only made a slight scratch on the clay, and 
 Romashov, to his astonishment, who had mis- 
 reckoned on a strong 1 resistance to the steel entering 
 the clay, lost his balance and stumbled forward, 
 whereupon the blade of the sabre caught his out- 
 stretched hand and tore off a portion of skin at the 
 lower part of his little finger, so that the blood 
 oozed . 
 
 " There ! See what you've done ! " cried Biek 
 angrily as he dismounted from his charger. " How 
 can any one handle a sabre so badly? You, very 
 nearly cut off your hand, you know. Well, that 
 wound is a mere trifle, but you'd better bind it up 
 with your handkerchief. Ensign, hold my horse. 
 And now, gentlemen, bear this in mind. The force 
 or effect of a stroke is not generated either in the 
 shoulder or the elbow, but here, in the wrist." 
 He made, as quick as lightning, a few rotary 
 movements of his right hand, whereupon the point 
 of his sabre described a scintillating circle above his 
 head. " Now look, I put my left hand behind 
 my back. When the stroke itself is to be delivered 
 it must not be done by a violent and clumsily directed 
 blow, but by a vigorous cut, in which the arm 
 and sabre are jerked slightly backwards. Do you 
 understand? Moreover, it is absolutely necessary 
 that the plane of the sabre exactly coincides with 
 the direction of the stroke. Look, here goes 1 " 
 
 Biek took two steps backwards from the manikin, 
 
 2
 
 1 8 THE DUEL 
 
 to which he seemed, as it were, to fasten himself 
 tightly by a sharp, penetrating glance. Suddenly 
 the sabre flashed in the air, and a fearful 
 stroke, delivered with a rapidity, that the eye 
 could not follow, struck like lightning the clay 
 figure, the upper part of which rolled, softly but 
 heavily, down to the ground. The cut made by 
 the sabre was as smooth and even as if it had been 
 polished . 
 
 " The deuce, that was something like a cut I " 
 cried the enthusiastic Lbov in wild delight. " Biek, 
 my dear fellow, of your charity do that over again." 
 
 " Yes, do, Biek," chimed in Viatkin. 
 
 But Agamalov, who was evidently afraid of 
 destroying the effect he had produced, smiled as he 
 replaced the sabre in its scabbard. He breathed 
 heavily, and at that moment, by his bloodthirsty, 
 wildly staring eyes, his hawk's nose, and set mouth, 
 he put one in mind of a proud, cruel, malignant "bird 
 of prey. 
 
 " That was really nothing 1 remarkable," he ex- 
 claimed in a tone of assumed contempt. " At home 
 in the Caucasus my old father, although he is over 
 sixty-six, could cut off a horse's head in a trice. 
 You see, my children, everything can be acquired by 
 practice and perseverance. At my home we practise 
 on bundles of fagots tightly twisted together, or we 
 try to cut through a water-spout without the least 
 splash being noticeable. Well, Lbov, it's your 
 turn now." 
 
 At that very moment, however, Bobuilev, the 
 " non-com.," rushed up to Viatkin, with terror 
 depicted on every feature. 
 
 " Your Honour 1 The Commander of the regiment 
 is Jiere." 
 
 " Attention I " cried Captain Sliva's sharp voice
 
 THE DUEL 19 
 
 from the other side of the parade-ground. The 
 officers hastily made their way to their respective 
 detachments . 
 
 A large open carriage slowly approached the 
 avenue and stopped at the parade-ground. Out of 
 it stepped the Commander with great trouble and 
 agony amidst a loud moaning and groaning from 
 the side of the poor carriage. The Commander was 
 followed by his Adjutant, Staff- Captain Federovski, 
 a tall, slim officer of smart appearance. 
 
 " Good day, 7th Company," was his greeting 
 in a careless, indistinct voice. An ear-splitting! 
 chorus of soldiers, dispersed over the whole extent 
 of the ground, replied instantly : " God preserve 
 your Excellency 1 " 
 
 The officers touched their caps. 
 
 " Proceed with the drill," ordered the Commander, 
 as he went up to the nearest platoon. 
 
 Colonel Shulgovich was evidently not in a 
 good humour. He wandered about the platoons, 
 growling and swearing, all the while repeatedly 
 trying to worry the life out of the unhappy recruits 
 by catch-questions from the " Military Regulations." 
 Time after time he was heard to reel out the most 
 awful strings of insults and threats, and in this he 
 displayed an inventive power and mastery that 
 could hardly be surpassed. The soldiers stood be- 
 fore him, transfixed with terror, stiff, motionless, 
 scarcely daring to breathe, and, as it were, 
 hypnotized by the incessant, steadfast glances t as 
 hard as marble, from those senile, colourless, severe 
 eyes. Colonel Shulgovich, although much troubled 
 with fatness and advanced in years, neverthe- 
 less still contrived to carry his huge, imposing 
 figure. His broad, fleshy face, with its bloated 
 cheeks and deeply receding forehead, was surrounded
 
 20 THE DUEL 
 
 below by a thick, silvery, pointed beard, whereby 
 the great head came very closely to resemble an 
 awe-inspiring rhomboid. The eyebrows were grey, 
 bushy, and threatening. He always spoke in a sub- 
 dued tone, but his powerful voice to which alone 
 he owed his comparatively rapid promotion was 
 heard all the same as far as the most distant point 
 of the parade-ground, nay I even out on the high- 
 road. 
 
 "Who are you?" asked the Colonel, suddenly 
 halting in front of a young soldier named 
 Sharafutdinov, who was on sentry duty near the 
 gymnastic apparatus. 
 
 " Recruit in the 6th Company, Sharafutdinov, 
 your Excellency," the Tartar answered in a strained 
 and hoarse voice. 
 
 " Fool ! I mean, of course, what post are you 
 supposed to occupy?" 
 
 The soldier, who was frightened by his Com- 
 mander's angry tone, was silent : he could only 
 produce one or two nervous twitchings of the eye- 
 brows . 
 
 "Well?" Shulgovich raised his voice. 
 
 "I am standing on guard," the Tartar at 
 last spluttered out, chancing it. "I cannot under- 
 stand, your Excellency," he went on to say, but 
 he relapsed into silence again, and stood motionless. 
 
 The Colonel's face assumed a dark brick colour, 
 a shade with a touch of blue about it, and his 
 bushy eyebrows began to pucker in an alarming way. 
 Beside himself with fury, he turned round and said 
 in a sharp tone 
 
 "Who is the youngest officer here?" 
 
 Romashov stepped forward and touched his cap. 
 
 " I am, Colonel." 
 
 " Ha Sub -lieutenant Romashov, you evidently
 
 THE DUEL 21 
 
 train your men well. Stand at attention and stretch 
 your legs," bawled Shulgovich suddenly, his eyes 
 rolling. " Don't you know how to stand in the 
 presence of your commanding officer? Captain 
 Sliva, I beg to inform you that your subaltern 
 officer has been lacking in the respect due to his 
 chief. And you, you miserable cur," he now turned 
 towards the unhappy Sharafutdinov, " tell me the 
 name of your Commander." 
 
 " I don't know," replied Sharafutdinov quickly, 
 but in a firm tone in which, nevertheless, a melan* 
 choly resignation might be detected. 
 
 " Oh, / -ask you the name of your Colonel. 
 Do you know who I am? I I I ! " and Shul- 
 govich drummed with the flat of his hand several 
 times on his broad chest. 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 The Colonel delivered himself of a string of about 
 twenty words of cynical abuse. " Captain Sliva, 
 I order you at once to exhibit this son of a sea-cook*, 
 so that all may see him, with rifle and heavy 
 accoutrements, and let him stand there till he rots. 
 And as for you, Sub-lieutenant, I know well enough 
 that loose women and flirtation interest you more 
 than the service does. In waltzing and reading 
 Paul de Kock you're said to be an authority, but 
 as to performing your duties, instructing your men 
 that, of course, is beneath your dignity. Just look 
 at this creature " (he gave Sharafutdinov a sound 
 slap on the mouth) "is this a Russian soldier? 
 No, he's a brute beast, who does not even 
 recognize his own commanding officer. You ought 
 to be ashamed of yourself." 
 
 Romashov stared speechlessly at his chief's red 
 and rage-distorted countenance. He felt his heart 
 threatening to burst with shame and indignation.
 
 22 THE DUEL 
 
 Suddenly, almost unconsciously, he burst out in a 
 hollow voice 
 
 " Colonel, this fellow is a Tartar and does not 
 understand a word of our language, and 
 besides . . ." 
 
 But he did not finish' his sentence. Shulgo- 
 vich's features had that very instant undergone a 
 ghastly change. His whole countenance was as 
 white as a corpse's, his withered cheeks were trans- 
 fused with sharp, nervous puckers, and his eyes 
 assumed a terrible expression. 
 
 " Wh-at ! " roared he in a voice so unnatural and 
 awe-inspiring that a little crowd of Jew boys, who, 
 some distance from the causeway, were sitting on the 
 fence on which they had swarmed, were scattered 
 like sparrows "you answer back? Silence! A 
 
 raw young ensign permits himself to Lieutenant 
 
 Federovski, enter in my day-book that I have 
 ordered Sub -lieutenant Romashov four days' arrest 
 in his room for breach of discipline. And Captain 
 Sliva is to be severely rebuked for neglecting to 
 instil into his junior officers ' a true military 
 spirit.' ' 
 
 The Adjutant saluted respectfully without any sign 
 of fear. Captain Sliva stood the whole time 
 bending slightly forward, with his hand to his cap, 
 and quivering with emotion, though without altering 
 a feature of his wooden face. 
 
 " I cannot help being surprised at you, Captain 
 Sliva," again grunted Shulgovich, who had now to 
 some extent regained his self-control. " How is it 
 possible that you, who are one of the best officers in 
 the regiment, and, moreover, old in the service, can 
 let your youngsters run so wild? They want 
 breaking in. It is no use to treat them like young 
 ladies and being afraid of hurting them."
 
 THE DUEL 23 
 
 Vvitii these words he turned his back on the 
 Captain, and, followed by the Adjutant, proceeded 
 to the carriage awaiting him. .Whilst he was getting 
 into the carriage, and till the latter had turned 
 round behind the corner of the regimental school, 
 a dull, painful silence reigned in the parade- 
 ground . 
 
 " Ah I you dear old ducky," exclaimed Captain 
 Sliva in a dry tone and with deep contempt, when 
 the officers had, some minutes later, separated. 
 " Now, gentlemen, I suppose I, too, ought to say a 
 couple of loving words to you. Learn to stand at 
 attention and hold your jaw even if the sky falls 
 etc. To-day I've had a wigging for you before the 
 whole of my company. Who saddled me with you? 
 Who asked for your services? Not I, at any rate. 
 You are, for me and my company, about as necessary 
 as a fifth leg is to a dog. Go to the deuce, and 
 return to your feeding-bottle." 
 
 He finished his bitter lecture with a weary, con- 
 temptuous movement of his hand, and dragged him- 
 self slowly away in the direction of his dark, dirty, 
 cheerless bachelor quarters. Romashov cast a long 
 glance at him, and gazing at the tall, thin figure, 
 already bent with age, as well as by the affront just 
 endured, he felt a deep pity for this lonely, em- 
 bittered man whom nobody loved, who had only 
 two interests in the whole world correct 
 " dressing " of the 6th Company when inarching 
 at a review, and the dear little schnapps bottle 
 which was his trusty and sole companion till bed- 
 time. 
 
 And whereas Romashov also had the absurd, silly 
 habit, which is often peculiar to young people, viz. 
 in his introspection to think of himself as a third 
 party, and then weave his noble personality into a
 
 24 THE DUEL 
 
 sentimental and stilted phrase from novelettes, our 
 soft-hearted lieutenant now expressed his opinion of 
 himself in the following touching manner 
 
 " And over his kindly, expressive eyes fell the 
 shadow of grief."
 
 II 
 
 THE soldiers marched home to their quarters in 
 platoon order. The square was deserted. Romashov 
 stood hesitating for a moment at the causeway. 
 It was not the first time during the year and a half 
 he had been in the service he had experienced that 
 painful feeling of loneliness, of being lost among 
 strangers either hostile or indifferent, or that dis- 
 tressful hesitation as to where one shall spend the 
 evening. To go home or spend the evening at 
 the officers' mess was equally distasteful to him. 
 At the latter place, at that time of day, there 
 was hardly a soul, at most a couple of ensigns 
 who, whilst they drank ale and smoked to excess 
 and indulged in as many oaths and unseemly words 
 as possible, played pyramids in the wretched little 
 narrow billiard-room; in addition to all this, the 
 horrible smell of food pervading all the rooms. 
 
 " I shall go down to the railway-station," said 
 Romashov at last. " That will be something to do." 
 
 In the poor little town, the population of which 
 mainly consisted of Jews, the only decent restaurant 
 was that at the railway-station . There !were certainly 
 two clubs one for officers, the other for the civilian 
 " big-wigs " of the community. They were both, 
 however, in a sorry plight, and on these grounds the 
 railway restaurant had become the only place where 
 the inhabitants assembled to shake off the dust of 
 everyday life, and to get a drink or a game at
 
 26 THE DUEL 
 
 cards. Even the ladies of the place accompanied 
 their male protectors there, chiefly, however, to 
 witness the arrival of the trains and scrutinize the 
 passengers, which always offered a little change in 
 the dreary monotony of provincial life. 
 
 Romashov liked to go down to the railway-station 
 of an evening at the time when the express arrived, 
 which made its last stop before reaching the Prussian 
 frontier. With a curious feeling of excitement and 
 tension, he awaited the moment when the train 
 flashed round a sharp curve of the line, the loco- 
 motive's fiery, threatening eye grew rapidly in size 
 and intensity, and, at the next second, thundered 
 past him a whole row of palatial carriages. " Like 
 a monstrously huge giant that suddenly checks him- 
 self in the middle of a furious leap," he thought, 
 the train came to an abrupt stop before the plat- 
 form. From the dazzling, illuminated carriages, that 
 resembled a fairy palace, stepped beautiful and 
 elegant ladies in wonderful hats, gentlemen dressed 
 according to the latest Paris fashion, who, in perfect 
 French or German, greeted one another with com- 
 pliments or pointed witticisms. None of the 
 passengers took the slightest notice of Romashov, 
 who saw in them a striking little sample of that 
 envied and unattainable world where life is a single, 
 uninterrupted, triumphal feast. 
 
 After an interval of eight minutes a bell would 
 ring, the engine would whistle, and the train de 
 luxe would flit away into the darkness. The station 
 would be soon deserted after this, and the lights 
 lowered in the buffet and on the platform, where 
 Romashov would remain gazing with melancholy 
 eyes, after the lurid gleam of the red lamp of the 
 rear coach, until it disappeared in the gloom like an 
 extinguished spark.
 
 THE DUEL 27 
 
 " I shall go to the station for a while/' Romashov 
 repeated to himself once more, but when he cast 
 a glance at his big, clumsy goloshes, bespattered 
 with clay and filth, he experienced a keen sense of 
 shame. All the other officers in the regiment wore 
 the same kind of goloshes. Then he noticed the 
 worn buttonholes of his shabby cloak, its many stains, 
 and the fearfully torn lower border that almost 
 degenerated into a sort of fringe at the knees, and 
 he sighed. One day in the previous week he had, 
 as usual, been promenading the platform, looking 
 with curiosity at the express train that had just 
 arrived, when he noticed a tall, extraordinarily hand- 
 some lady standing at the open door of a first-class 
 carriage. She was bare-headed, and Romashov 
 managed to distinguish a little, straight, piquant 
 nose, two charming, pouting lips, and a splendid, 
 gleaming black head of hair which, parted in the 
 middle of her forehead, stole down to her coquettish 
 little ears. Behind her, and looking over her 
 shoulder, stood a gigantic young man in a light 
 suit, with a scornful look, and moustaches after 
 the style affected by Kaiser Wilhelm. In fact, he 
 bore a certain resemblance to Wilhelm. The lady 
 looked at Romashov, it seemed to him with an 
 expression of interest, and he said to himself : " The 
 fair unknown's eyes rested with pleasure on the 
 young warrior's tall, well-formed figure." But when, 
 after walking on a few steps, he turned round to 
 catch the lady's eyes again, he saw that both she and 
 her companion were looking after him and laughing. 
 In that moment he saw himself from outside, as it 
 were his awful goloshes, his cloak, pale face, stiff, 
 angular figure and experienced a feeling of shame 
 and indignation at the thought of the bombastic, 
 romantic phrase he had just applied to himself,
 
 28 THE DUEL 
 
 Ah ! even at this moment, when he was walking 
 along the road in the gloomy spring evening, he 
 flushed at that torturing recollection. 
 
 " Not, I shall not go to the station," he whispered 
 to himself with bitter hopelessness. " I'll take a 
 little stroll and then go straight home." 
 
 It was in the beginning' of April. The dusk was 
 deepening into night. The poplars that bordered 
 the road, the small white houses with their red-tiled 
 roofs, the few wanderers one met in the street at this 
 hour all grew darker, lost colour and perspective. 
 All objects were changed into black shadow, the 
 lines of which, however, still showed distinctly 
 against the dark sky. Far away westwards, outside 
 the town, the sunset still gleamed fiery red. Vast 
 dark-blue clouds melted slowly down into a glowing 
 crater of streaming 1 , flaming gold, and then assumed 
 a blood-red hue with rays of violet and amber. But 
 above the volcano, like a dome of varying green, 
 turquoise and beryl, arose the boundless sky of a 
 luminous spring night. 
 
 Romashov looked steadily at this enchanting 
 picture whilst he slowly and laboriously drag'gecl 
 himself and his goloshes along the causeway. As 
 he always did, even from childhood, he even now in- 
 dulged in fancies of a mysterious, marvellous world 
 that waited for and beckoned to him in the far 
 distance, beyond the sunset. Just there there 
 behind the clouds and the horizon is hidden a 
 wonderfully beautiful city lighted up by the beams 
 of a sun invisible from here, and protected against 
 our eyes by heavy, inexorable, threatening clouds. 
 There the human eye is blinded by streets paved 
 with gold ; there, to a dazzling height, the dome- 
 capped towers rise above the purple-hued roofs, 
 where the palace windows shimmer in the sun like
 
 THE DUEL 29 
 
 innumerable gems, where countless flags and 
 banners resplendent with colour sway in the breeze. 
 And in this fairy city throng 1 bands of rejoicing 
 people, whose whole life is nothing but an endless, 
 intoxicating feast, a chord of harmony and bliss 
 vibrating for ever and ever. In paradisaical parks 
 and gardens, amidst fountains and flowers, stroll 
 godlike men and women fair as the day, who 
 have never yet known an unfulfilled desire, who 
 have never yet experienced sorrow and struggle 
 and shame. 
 
 Romashov suddenly called to mind the painful 
 scene in the parade-ground, the Commander's coarse 
 invectives and that outrageous insult in the presence 
 of his comrades and subordinates. Ah ! what 
 affected him most bitterly of all was that a person had 
 railed at him before the soldiers in the same rough 
 and ruthless way as he himself, alas ! had only too 
 often done to his subordinates. This he felt almost 
 as a degradation, nay, even as a debasement of his 
 dignity as a human being. 
 
 Then awoke within him, exactly as was the case 
 in his early youth alas ! in many respects he still 
 much resembled a big child feelings at once re- 
 vengeful, fantastic, and intoxicating. " Stuff and 
 nonsense ! " he shouted out to himself. " All my life 
 is before me." And, as it were, in keeping with 
 his thoughts, he took firmer strides, and breathed 
 more deeply. " To-morrow to spite them all I shall 
 rise with the sun, stick to my books, and force 
 an entrance into the Military Academy . Hard work ? 
 I can work hard if I like. I must take myself in 
 hand, that is all. I'll read and cram like fury, 
 early and late, and then, some fine day, to every one's 
 astonishment, I shall pass a brilliant examination. 
 And then, of course, every one will say : ' This was
 
 30 THE DUEL 
 
 nothing unexpected, we might have foretold that 
 long ago. Such an energetic, talented young 
 man ! ' 
 
 And our Romashov already saw himself in his 
 mind's eye with a snug Staff appointment and 
 unlimited possibilities in the future. His name 
 stood engraved on the golden tablet of the Military 
 Academy. The professors had predicted a brilliant 
 career for him, tried to retain him as a lecturer at 
 the Academy, etc. etc. but in vain. All his tastes 
 were for trie practical side, for troop service. He 
 had also first to perform his duties as company 
 officer, and as a matter of course yes, as a matter 
 of course in his old regiment . He would, therefore, 
 have to make another appearance here in this dis- 
 gusting little out-of-the-way hole as a Staff officer 
 uncommonly learned and all-accomplished, in every 
 respect unsurpassable, well-bred and elegant, in- 
 exorably severe to himself, but benevolently con- 
 descending towards others, a pattern for all, envied 
 by all, etc. etc. He had seen at the manceuvrles 
 in the previous year a similar prodigy, who stood 
 millions of miles above the rest of mankind, and who, 
 therefore, kept himself far apart from his comrades 
 at the officers' mess. Cards, dice, heavy drinking 
 and noisy buffoonery were not in his line ; he had 
 higher views. Besides, he had only honoured with a 
 short visit that miserable place, which for him was 
 only a stage, a step-ladder on the road to honour 
 and decorations. 
 
 And Romashov pursued his fancies. The 
 grand manoeuvres have begun, and the battalion 
 is busy. Colonel Shulgovich, who never managed 
 to make out the strategical or tactical situation, gets 
 more and more muddled in his orders, commands 
 and countermands, marches his men aimlessly here
 
 THE DUEL 31 
 
 and there, and has already got two orderlies at him, 
 bringing severe reprimands from the Commander of 
 the corps. " Look here, Captain/' says Shulgovich, 
 turning to his former sub -lieutenant, " help me out 
 of this. We are old and good friends, you know 
 well, we did have a little difference on one 
 occasion. Now tell me what I ought to do." 
 His face is red with anxiety and vexation ; but 
 Romashov sits straight in the saddle, salutes stiffly, 
 and in a respectful but freezing tone replies : 
 " Pardon, Colonel. Your duty is to advance your 
 regiment in accordance with the Commander's 
 order ; mine is only to receive your instructions 
 and to carry them out to the best of my ability.'" 
 In the same moment a third orderly from the Com- 
 mander approaches at a furious gallop. 
 
 Romashov, the brilliant Staff officer, rises higher 
 and higher towards the pinnacles of power and 
 glory. A dangerous strike has taken place at a 
 steel manufactory. Romashov's company is charged 
 with the difficult and hazardous task of restoring 
 peace and order amongst the rioters . Night and 
 gloom, incendiarism, a flaming sea of fire, an in- 
 numerable, hooting', bloodthirsty mob, a shower of 
 stones. A stately young officer steps in front of the 
 company, his name is Romashov. " Brothers," 
 cries he, in a strong but melodious voice, " for the. 
 third and last time I beseech you to disperse, other- 
 wise I shall fire." Wild shouts, derisive laughter 
 whistling. A stone hits Romashov on the shoulder, 
 but his frank, handsome countenance maintains its 
 unalterable calm. Slowly he turns towards his 
 soldiers, whose eyes scintillate with rage at the 
 insolent outrage that some one had dared to commit 
 on their idolized Captain. A few brief, energetic 
 words of command are heard, " Line and aim
 
 32 THE DUEL 
 
 fire ! " A crashing report of rifles, immediately 
 followed by a roar of rage and despair from the 
 crowd. A few score dead and wounded lie where 
 they have fallen ; the rest flee in disorder or beg 
 for mercy and are taken prisoners. The riot is 
 quelled, and Romashov awaits a gracious token of 
 the Tsar's gratitude and favour, together with a 
 special reward for the heroism he displayed. 
 
 Then comes the longed-for war. Nay, even 
 before the war he is sent by the War Office to 
 Germany as a spy on the enemy's military power 
 near the frontier. Perfectly familiar with the 
 German language, he enters upon his hazardous 
 career. How delightful is such an adventure to a 
 brave and patriotic man 1 Absolutely alone, with a 
 German passport in his pocket and a street organ 
 on his back, he wanders from town to town, from 
 village to village, grinds out tunes, collects coppers, 
 plays the part of a simple lout, and meanwhile 
 obtains, in all secrecy, plans and sketches of fort- 
 resses, stores, barracks, camps, etc., etc. Foes and 
 perils lie in wait for him every minute. His own 
 Government has left him helpless and unprotected. 
 He is virtually an outlaw. If he succeeds in his 
 purpose, honours and rewards of all kinds await him. 
 Should he be unmasked, he will be condemned 
 straight off to be shot or hanged. He sees himself 
 standing in the dark and gloomy trench, confronted 
 by his executioners. Out of compassion they fasten 
 a white cloth before his eyes ; but he tears it away 
 and throws it to the ground with the proud words, 
 " Do you not think an officer can face death ? " An 
 old Colonel replies, in a quivering voice : " Listen, 
 my young friend. I have a son of the same age as 
 you. I will spare you. Tell us your name tell us, 
 at any rate, your nationality, and the death sentence
 
 THE DUEL 33 
 
 will be commuted to imprisonment." " I thank 
 you, Colonel ; but it is useless. Do your duty." 
 Then he turns to the soldiers, and says to them 
 in a firm voice in German : " Comrades, there is 
 only one favour I would crave : spare my face, 
 aim at my heart." The officer in command, 
 deeply moved, raises his white pocket-handker- 
 chief a crashing report and Romashov's story is 
 ended . 
 
 This picture made such a lively impression on his 
 imagination that Romashov, who was already very 
 excited and striding along the road, suddenly stopped 
 short, trembling all over. His heart beat violently, 
 and he clenched his hands convulsively. He gained, 
 however, command over himself immediately, and 
 smiling compassionately at himself, he continued on 
 his way in the darkness. 
 
 But it was not long before he began to conjure 
 up fresh pictures in his imagination. The cruel war 
 with Prussia and Austria, long 1 expected and pre- 
 pared for, had come. An enormous battlefield, 
 corpses everywhere, havoc, annihilation, blood, and 
 death. It was the chief battle, on the issue of 
 which the whole war depended. The decisive 
 moment had arrived. The last reserves had been 
 brought up, and one was waiting anxiously for the 
 Russian flanking column to arrive in time to attack 
 the enemy in the rear. At any cost the enemy's 
 frantic attack must be met without flinching. The 
 most important and threatened position on the 
 field was occupied by the Kerenski regiment, 
 which was being decimated by the concentrated 
 fire of the enemy. The soldiers fight like lions 
 without yielding an inch, although the whole line is 
 being mowed down by a murderous fire of shells. 
 Every one feels that he is passing 1 through an 
 
 3
 
 34 THE DUEL 
 
 historical moment. A few more seconds of heroic 
 endurance and victory will be snatched out of the 
 enemy's hands. But Colonel Shulgovich wavers. 
 He is a brave man that must be admitted but the 
 perils of a fight like this are too much for his nerves . 
 He turns pale and trembles. The next moment he 
 signals to the bugler to sound the retreat, and the 
 latter has already put the bugle to his lips, when, 
 that very moment, Colonel Romashov, chief of the 
 Staff, comes dashing from behind the hill on his 
 foaming Arab steed. " Colonel, we dare not 
 retreat. The fate of Russia will be decided here." 
 Shulgovich begins blustering. " Colonel Romashov, 
 it is I who am in command and must answer 
 to God and the Tsar. The regiment must retire 
 blow the bugle." But Romashov snatches the bugle 
 from the bugler's hand and hurls it to the ground. 
 " Forward, my children ! " he shouts ; " the eyes 
 of your Emperor and your fellow-countrymen are 
 fixed on you." " Hurrah ! " With a deafening 
 shout of joy the soldiers, led by Romashov, rush 
 at the foe. Everything disappears in a chasm of 
 fire and smoke. The enemy wavers, and soon his 
 lines are broken ; but behind him gleam the Russian 
 bayonets. "The victory is ours! Hurrah, 
 comrades " 
 
 Romashov, who no longer walked but ran, 
 gesticulating wildly, at last stopped and gradually 
 became himself again. .It seemed to him as if 
 some one with fingers cold as ice had suddenly 
 passed them over his back, arms, and legs, his hair 
 bristled, and his strong excitement had brought tears 
 to his eyes. He had no notion how he suddenly 
 found himself near his quarters, and, as he recovered 
 from his mad fancies, he gazed with astonishment 
 at the street door he knew so well, at the neglected
 
 THE DUEL 35 
 
 fruit- garden within which stood the little white- 
 washed wing where he lodged. 
 
 " How does all this nonsense get into my head? " 
 said he, with a sense of shame and a shrug of his 
 shoulders in self -contempt.
 
 Ill 
 
 WHEN Romashov reached his room he threw him- 
 self, just as he was, witih cap and sabre, on his bed, 
 and for a loh'g time he lay there motionless, staring 
 up at the ceiling 1 . His head burned, his back ached ; 
 and he suffered from a vacuum within him as pro- 
 found as if his mind was incapable of harbouring 
 a feeling 1 , a memory, or a thought. He felt neither 
 irritation nor sadness, but he was sensible of a 
 suffocating weight on his heart, of darkness and 
 indifference . 
 
 The shades of a balmy April night fell. He 
 heard his servant quietly occupied with some metal 
 object in the hall. 
 
 " Curiously enough," said he to himself, " I have 
 read somewhere or other that one cannot live a 
 single second without thinking'. But here I lie and 
 think about absolutely nothing. Isn't that so? 
 Perhaps it is just this : I am thinking that / am 
 thinking about nothing. It even seems as if a tiny 
 wheel in my brain is in motion. And see here a 
 new reflection, an objective introspection I am also 
 thinking of " 
 
 He lay so long and tortured himself with such 
 forced mental images that returned in an eternal 
 circle that it finally became physically repulsive to 
 him. It was just as if a great loathsome spider, 
 from which he could not extricate himself, was softly 
 
 36
 
 THE DUEL 37 
 
 groping about under his brain. At last he raised his 
 head from the pillows and called out 
 
 "Hainan." 
 
 At that very moment was heard a tremendous 
 crash of something falling and rolling on the floor. 
 It was probably the funnel belonging to the samovar 
 which had dropped. The door was opened hastily 
 and shut again with a loud bang. The servant 
 burst into the room, making as much noise in 
 opening and shutting the door as if we were running 
 away from some one. 
 
 "It is I, your Honour," shrieked Hainan in a 
 fear-stricken voice. 
 
 " Has there been, any message from Lieutenant 
 Nikolaiev? " 
 
 " No, your Excellency," replied Hainan in the 
 same shrieking tone. 
 
 Between the officer and his servant there existed 
 a certain simple, sincere, affectionately familiar rela- 
 tionship. When the question only required the usual 
 stereotyped, official answer, e.g. " Yes, your Ex- 
 cellency," " No, your Excellency," etc., then Hainan 
 shrieked the words in the same wooden, soulless, 
 and unnatural way as soldiers always do in the case 
 of their officers, and which, from their first days in 
 the recruit school, becomes ineradicably ingrained 
 in them as long as they live. 
 
 Hainan was by birth a Circassian, and by re- 
 ligion an idolater. This latter circumstance gave 
 great satisfaction to Romashov, because among the 
 young officers of the regiment the silly and boyish 
 custom prevailed of training their respective servants 
 to be something unique, or of teaching them certain 
 semi-idiotic answers and phrases. 
 
 For instance, when his friends paid him a visit, 
 Viatkin used to say to his orderly, a Moldavian,
 
 38 THE DUEL 
 
 " Busioskul, have we any champagne in the cellar? " 
 And Busioskul would answer with imperturbable 
 gravity, " No, your Excellency. Last night you were 
 pleased to drink up the last dozen." Another officer, 
 Sub -lieutenant Epifanov, amused himself by putting 
 to his servant learned and difficult questions which 
 he himself could hardly answer. " Listen, my friend, 
 What are your views on the restoration of the 
 monarchy in France at the present day?" The 
 servant answers, " Your Honour, it will, I think, 
 succeed." Lieutenant Bobetinski had written 
 down a whole catechism for his flunkey, and the 
 latter trained genius replied frankly and unhesi- 
 tatingly to the most absurd questions, e.g. " Why is 
 this important for the third?" Answer "For the 
 third this is not important." " What is Holy 
 Church's opinion about it?" Answer "Holy 
 Church has no opinion about it." The same servant 
 would declaim, with the quaintest, semi-tragical 
 gestures, Pinen's role in " Boris-Gudunov." It was 
 also 'usual and much appreciated to make him express 
 himself in French : " Bong shure, musseur. Bon 
 nuite, moussier. Vulley vous du tay, musseur? " etc. 
 etc., in that style. All these follies naturally arose 
 from the dullness of that little garrison town, and 
 the narrowness of a life from which all interests 
 were excluded except those belonging to the 
 service . 
 
 Romashov often talked to Hainan about his 
 gods about whom the Circassian had only dim 
 and meagre ideas ; but it amused him greatly to 
 make Hainan tell the story of how he took the oath 
 of allegiance to the Tsar and Russia a story well 
 worth ihearing now and then. At that time the oath 
 of allegiance was, for the Orthodox, administered 
 by a priest of the Greek Church ; for Catholics, by
 
 THE DUEL 39 
 
 the ksends 1 ^; for Protestants, when a Lutheran pastor 
 was not available, by Staff- Captain Ditz ; and for 
 Mohammedans, by Lieutenant Biek - Agamalov. 
 For Haindn and two of his fellow-countrymen a 
 particular and highly original form had been 
 authorized. The three soldiers were ordered to 
 march in turn up to the Adjutant of the regiment, 
 and from the point of the sabre held towards them 
 they were required to bite off, with deep reverence, a 
 piece of bread that had been dipped in salt. Under 
 no circumstances was the bread to be touched by 
 their hands. The symbolism of this curious 
 ceremony was as ^follows : When the Circassian had 
 eaten his lord's the Tsar's bread and salt in this 
 peculiar way he was ruthlessly condemned to die by 
 the sword if he ever failed in loyalty and obedience. 
 Hainan was evidently very proud of having thus 
 taken his oath of allegiance to the Tsar, and he never 
 got tired of relating the circumstance ; but as 
 every time he told his story he adorned it with fresh 
 inventions and absurdities, it became at last a verit- 
 able Miinchausen affair, which was always received 
 with Homeric laughter by Romashov and his guests. 
 
 Hainan now thought that his master would start 
 his usual questions about gods and Adjutants, arid 
 stood ready to begin with a cunning smile on 
 his face, when Romashov said 
 
 'That will do ; you can go." 
 
 " Shall I not lay out your Honour's new uni- 
 form?" jasked the ever-attentive Hainan. 
 
 Romashov iwas silent and pondered. First he 
 would say "Yes," then "No," and again "Yes." 
 At last, after a long, deep sigh, uttered in the 
 descending scale, he replied in a tone of resig- 
 nation 
 
 1 Roman Catholic priests are so called in Lithuania and Poland
 
 40 THE DUEL 
 
 " No, Haindn, never mind about that get the 
 samovar ready and then run off to the mess for 
 my supper." 
 
 " I will stay away to-day," whispered he to 
 himself. " It doesn't do to bore people to 
 death by calling on them like that every day. 
 And, besides, it is plain I am not a man people 
 long for." 
 
 His resolution to stay at home that evening seemed 
 fixed .enough, and yet an inner voice told him that 
 even to-day, as on most other days during the past 
 three months, he would go to the Nikolaievs'. Every 
 time he bade these friends of his good-bye at mid- 
 night, he had, with shame and indignation at his 
 own .weakness and lack of character, sworn to himself 
 on ,his honour that he would not pay another call 
 there for two or three weeks. Nay, he had even 
 made up his mind to give up altogether these 
 uncalled-for visits. And all the while he was on 
 his way home, whilst he was undressing, ah 1 even 
 up to the moment he fell asleep, he believed it 
 would be an easy matter for him to keep his resolu- 
 tion. The night went by, the morning dawned, 
 and the day dragged on slowly and unwillingly, 
 evening came, and once more an irresistible force 
 drew him to this handsome and elegant abode, 
 with its warm, well-lighted, comfortable rooms, 
 where peace, harmony, cheerful and confidential con- 
 versation, and, above all, the delightful enchantment 
 of feminine beauty awaited him. 
 
 Romashov sat on the edge of his bed. It was 
 already dark, but he could, nevertheless, easily dis- 
 cern the various objects in his room. Oh, how he 
 loathed day by day his mean, gloomy dwelling, with 
 its trumpery, tasteless furniture 1 His lamp, with its 
 ugly shade that resembled a night-cap, on the in-
 
 THE DUEL 41 
 
 convenient, rickety writing-table, looked haughtily 
 down on the nerve-torturing alarm-clock and the 
 dirty, vulgar inkstand that had the shape of a badly 
 modelled pug-dog. Over his head something in- 
 tended to represent a wall decoration a piece of felt 
 on which had been embroidered a terrible tiger and 
 a still more terrible Arab riding on horseback, armed 
 with a spear. In one corner a tumbledown book- 
 stand, in the other the fantastic silhouette of a 
 hideous violoncello case. Over the only window the 
 room could boast a curtain of plaited straw rolled up 
 into a tube. Behind the door a clothes-stand con- 
 cealed by a sheet that had been white in prehistoric 
 times. Every unmarried subaltern officer had the 
 same articles about him, with the exception of the 
 violoncello which Romashov had borrowed from the 
 band attached to the regiment in which it was 
 completely unnecessary with the intention of de- 
 veloping on it his musical talent. But as soon as he 
 had tried in vain to teach himself the C major scale, 
 he tired of the thing altogether, and the 'cello had 
 now stood for more than a year, dusty and forgotten, 
 in its dark corner. 
 
 More than a year ago Romashov, who had just left 
 the military college, had taken both pride and joy in 
 furnishing his modest lodgings. To have a room of 
 his own, his own things, to choose and buy house- 
 hold furniture according to his own liking, to 
 arrange everything according to his own consummate 
 taste all that highly flattered the amour propre of 
 that young man of two-and-twenty. It seemed only 
 yesterday that he sat on the school form, or marched 
 in rank and file with his comrades off to the general 
 mess-room to eat, at the word of command, his 
 frugal breakfast. To-day he was his own master. 
 And how many hopes and plans sprang into his brain
 
 42 THE DUEL 
 
 in the course of those never-to-be-forgotten days 
 when he furnished and " adorned " his new home ! 
 What a severe programme he composed for his 
 future ! The first two years were to be devoted 
 chiefly to a thorough study of classical literature, 
 French and German, and also music. After that, a 
 serious preparation for entering the Staff College 
 was to follow. It was necessary to study sociology 
 and society life, and to be abreast of modern science 
 and literature. Romashov therefore felt himself 
 bound at least to subscribe to a newspaper and to 
 take in a popular monthly magazine. The bookstand 
 was adorned with Wundt's Psychology, Lewes 's 
 Physiology, and Smiles 's Self -Help, etc., etc. 
 
 But for nine long months have the books lain 
 undisturbed on their shelves, forgotten by Hainan, 
 whose business it is to dust them. Heaps of 
 newspapers, not even stripped of their wrappers, lie 
 cast in a pile beneath the writing-table, and the 
 aesthetic magazine to which we just referred has 
 ceased to reach Romashov on account of repeated 
 " irregularities " with regard to the half-yearly pay- 
 ment. Sub-Lieutenant Romashov drinks a good 
 deal of vodka at mess ; he has a tedious and loath- 
 some liaison with a married woman belonging to 
 the regiment, whose consumptive and jealous 
 husband he deceives in strict accordance with all the 
 rules of art ; he plays schtoss, 1 and more and more 
 frequently comes into unpleasant collisions both in 
 the service and also in the circles of his friends 
 and acquaintances. 
 
 " Pardon me, your Honour," shouted his servant, 
 entering the room noisily. Then he added in a 
 friendly, simple, good-natured tone : "I forgot to 
 mention that a letter has come from Mrs. Peterson. 
 
 ' Schtoss is a sort of Russian hazard.
 
 THE DUEL 43 
 
 The orderly who brought it is waiting for an 
 answer." 
 
 Romashov frowned, took the letter, tore open a 
 long, slender, rose-coloured envelope, in a corner of 
 which fluttered a dove with a letter in its beak. 
 
 " Light the lamp, Haindn," said he to his servant. 
 
 MY DEAR DARLING IRRESISTIBLE LITTLE GEORGI (read Romashov 
 
 in the sloping, crooked lines he knew so well), For a whole week 
 you have not been to see me, and yesterday I was so miserable 
 without you that I lay and wept the whole night. Remember that 
 if you fool me or deceive me I shall not survive it. One single drop 
 of poison and I shall be freed from my tortures for ever ; but, as for 
 you, conscience shall gnaw you for ever and ever. You must must 
 come to me to-night at half-past seven. He is not at home, he is some- 
 where on tactical duty or whatever it is called. Do come ! I kiss 
 you a thousand thousand times. 
 
 Yours always, 
 
 RAISA. 
 
 P.S. 
 
 Have you forgotten the river fast rushing, 
 
 Under the willow-boughs wending its way, 
 Kisses you gave me, dear, burning and crushing, 
 
 When in your strong arms I tremblingly lay ? 
 
 P.SS. You must absolutely attend the soiree next Saturday at the 
 officers' mess. I will give you the third quadrille. You understand. 
 
 A long way down on the fourth page lay written 
 
 I have kissed 
 here. 
 
 This delightful epistle wafted the familiar perfume 
 of Persian lilac, and drops of that essence had, here 
 and there, left yellow stains behind them on the 
 letter, in which the characters had run apart in 
 different directions. This stale scent, combined with 
 the tasteless, absurdly sentimental tone throughout
 
 44 THE DUEL 
 
 this letter from a little, immoral, red-haired woman, 
 excited in Romashov an intolerable feeling of 
 disgust. With a sort of grim delight he first tore 
 the letter into two parts, laid them carefully together, 
 tore them up again, laid the bits of paper once more 
 together, and tore them again into little bits till his 
 fingers got numb, and then, with clenched teeth and 
 a broad, cynical grin, threw the fragments under his 
 writing-table. At the same time, according to his 
 old habit, he had time to think of himself in the 
 third person 
 
 " And he burst out into a bitter, contemptuous 
 laugh." 
 
 A moment later he realized that he would have 
 to go that evening to the Nikolaievs'. " But this 
 is the last time." After he had tried to deceive 
 himself by these words, he felt for once happy 
 and calm. 
 
 " Hainan, my clothes." 
 
 He made his toilet hastily and impatiently, put 
 on his elegant new tunic, and sprinkled a few drops 
 of eau-de-Cologne on a clean handkerchief ; but 
 when he was dressed, and ready to go, he was 
 stopped suddenly by Haindn. 
 
 14 Your Honour," said the Circassian, in an un- 
 usually meek and supplicating tone, as he began to 
 execute a most curious sort of dance before his 
 master. Whilst he was performing a kind of 
 " march on the spot " he lifted his knees right up, 
 one after the other, rocking his shoulders, nodding 
 his head, and making a series of convulsive move- 
 ments in the air with his arms and fingers. Hainan 
 was in the habit of giving vent to his excited feelings 
 by curious gestures of that sort. 
 
 44 What do you want now? " 
 
 44 Your Honour," stammered Hainan, ' 4 I want
 
 THE DUEL 45 
 
 to ask you something'; please give me the white 
 gentleman." 
 
 " The white gentleman ? What white gentle- 
 man? " 
 
 " The one you ordered me to throw away the 
 one standing in that corner." 
 
 Haindn pointed with his fingers to the stove- 
 corner, where a bust of Pushkin was standing on 
 the floor. This bust, which Romashov had obtained 
 from a wandering pedlar, really did not represent the 
 famous poet, but merely reproduced the forbidding 
 features of an old Jew broker. Badly modelled, 
 so covered with dust and fly dirt as to be unrecogniz- 
 able, the stone image aroused Romashov 's aversion 
 to such an extent that he had at last made up his 
 mind to order Hainan to throw it into the yard. 
 
 " What do you want with it? " asked Romashov, 
 laughing. " But take it by all means, take it, I am 
 only too pleased. I d,on't want it, only I should like 
 to know what you are going to do with it." 
 
 Hainan smiled and changed from one foot to the 
 other. 
 
 " Well, take him, then ; I wish you joy of it. 
 By the way, do you know who it is ? " 
 
 Hainan smiled in an embarrassed way, and in- 
 fused still more energy into his caperings. 
 
 " No don't know." Hainan rubbed his lips with 
 his coat sleeve. 
 
 " So you don't know. Well, listen. This 
 is Pushkin Alexander Sergievich Pushkin. Did 
 you understand me ? Now repeat ' Alexander 
 Sergievich ' ' 
 
 " Besiaev," repeated Haindn in a determined tone. 
 
 "Besiaev? Well, call him Besiaev if you like. 
 Now I am off. Should any message come from 
 Mr. and Mrs. Peterson, say I'm not at home, and
 
 46 THE DUEL 
 
 you don't know where I have gone. Do you under- 
 stand ? But if any one wants me in the way of 
 business connected with the regiment, run down at 
 once for me at Lieutenant Nikolaiev's. You may 
 fetch my supper from the mess and eat it yourself. 
 Good-bye, old fellow." 
 
 Romashov gave his servant a friendly smack on 
 his shoulder, which was answered by a broad, happy, 
 familiar smile.
 
 IV 
 
 WHEN Romashov reached the yard it was quite dark. 
 He stumbled like a blind man into the street, his 
 huge goloshes sank deep into the thick, stiff mud, 
 and every step he took was accompanied by a smack- 
 ing noise. Now and again one golosh stuck so fast 
 in the mud of the road that it remained there, and he 
 had all the difficulty in the world, whilst balancing 
 himself wildly on his other foot, to recover his 
 treasure . 
 
 The little town seemed to him to be absolutely 
 dead. Not a sound was heard, even the dogs were 
 silent. Here and there a gleam of light streamed 
 from the small, low-pitched, white house, against 
 which the window-sills sharply depicted their shapes 
 in the yellowish-brown mire. From the wet and 
 sticky palings along which Romashov slowly worked 
 his way, from the raw, moist bark of the poplars, 
 from the dirty road itself, there arose a strong, 
 refreshing scent of spring, which aroused a certain 
 unconscious sense of joy and comfort. Nay, even 
 with the tormenting gale which swept violently 
 through the streets seemed mingled a youthful, re- 
 awakened desire of life, and the gusts of wind chased 
 one another like boisterous and sportive children 
 in a " merry-go-round." 
 
 When Romashov reached the house where the 
 Nikolaievs dwelt, he stopped, despondent and per- 
 
 47
 
 48 THE DUEL 
 
 plexed. The close, cinnamon-coloured curtains were 
 let down, but behind them one could, nevertheless, 
 distinguish the clear, even glow of a lamp. On one 
 side the curtain curved inwards and formed a long, 
 small chink against the window-sill. Romashov 
 pressed his face cautiously against the window, and 
 hardly dared to breathe for fear of betraying his 
 presence . 
 
 He could distinguish Alexandra Petrovna's head 
 and shoulders. She was sitting in a stooping atti- 
 tude on that green rep divan that he knew so well. 
 From her bowed head and slight movements he 
 concluded that she was occupied with some needle- 
 work. Suddenly she straightened herself up, raised 
 her head, and drew a long breath. Her lips moved. 
 
 "What is she saying?" thought Romashov. 
 " And look ! now she's smiling. How strange to 
 see through a window a person talking, and not to 
 be able to catch a word of what she says." 
 
 The smile, however, suddenly disappeared from 
 Alexandra Petrovna's face ; her forehead puckered, 
 and her lips moved rapidly and vehemently. Directly 
 afterwards she smiled again, but wickedly and 
 maliciously, and with her head made a slow gesture 
 of disapproval. 
 
 " Perhaps they are talking about me," thought 
 Romashov, not without a certain disagreeable 
 anxiety ; but he knew how something pure, chaste, 
 agreeably soothing and benevolent beamed on him 
 from this young woman who, at that moment, made 
 the same impression on him as a charming canvas, 
 the lovely picture of which reminded him of happy, 
 innocent days of long ago. " Shurochka," whis- 
 pered Romashov tenderly. 
 
 At that moment Alexandra Petrovna lifted her 
 face from her work and cast a rapid, searching,
 
 THE DUEL 49 
 
 despondent glance at the window. Romashov 
 thought she was looking him straight in the face. 
 It felt as if a cold hand had seized his heart, and in 
 his fright he hid himself behind a projection of the 
 wall. Again he was irresolute and ill at ease, and 
 he was just about to return home, when, by a violent 
 effort of the will, he overcame his pusillanimity and 
 walked through a little back-door into the kitchen. 
 
 The Nikolaievs' servant relieved him of his muddy 
 goloshes, and wiped down his boots with a kitchen 
 rag. When Romashov pulled out his pocket- 
 handkerchief to remove the mist from his eyeglass 
 he heard Alexandra Petrovna's musical voice from 
 the drawing-room . 
 
 " Stepan, have they brought the orders of the 
 day yet ? " 
 
 " She said that with an object," thought Roma- 
 shov to himself. " She knows well enough that 
 I'm in the habit of coming about this time. 
 
 " No, it is I, Alexandra Petrovna," he answered 
 aloud, but in an uncertain voice, through the open 
 drawing-room door. 
 
 " Oh, it's you, Romashov. Well, come in, come 
 in. What are you doing at the side entrance? 
 Volodya, Romashov is here." 
 
 Romashov stepped in, made an awkward bow,, 
 and began, so as to hide his embarrassment, to wipe 
 his hands with his handkerchief. 
 
 " I am afraid I bore you, Alexandra Petrovna." 
 
 He tried to say this in an easy and jocose tone, 
 but the words came out awkwardly, and as it seemed 
 to him, with a forced ring about them. 
 
 "What nonsense you talk!" exclaimed Alex- 
 andra Petrovna. " Sit down, please, and let us have 
 some tea." 
 
 Looking him straight in the face with her clear, 
 
 4
 
 50 THE DUEL 
 
 piercing eyes, she squeezed as usual his cold fingers 
 with her little soft, warm hand. 
 
 Nikolaiev sat with his back to them at the table 
 that was almost hidden by piles of books, drawings, 
 and maps. Before the year was out he had to make 
 another attempt to get admitted to the Staff College, 
 and for many months he had been preparing with 
 unremitting industry for this stiff examination in 
 which he had already twice failed. Staring hard 
 at the open book before him, he stretched his arm 
 over his shoulder to Romashov without turning 
 round, and said, in a calm, husky voice 
 
 "How do you do, Yuri 1 Alexievich? Is there 
 any news? Shurochka, give him some tea. Excuse 
 me, but I am, as you see, hard at work." 
 
 " What a fool I am 1 " cried poor Romashov to 
 himself. "What business had I here? " Then he 
 added out loud : " Bad news. There are ugly re- 
 ports circulating at mess with regard to Lieutenant- 
 Colonel Liech. He is said to have been as tight as 
 a drum. The resentment in the regiment is wide- 
 spread, and a very searching inquiry is demanded. 
 Epifanov has been arrested." 
 
 " Oh 1 " remarked Nikolaiev in an absent tone. 
 " But excuse my interruption. You don't say so ! " 
 
 " I, too, have been rewarded with four days. But 
 that is stale news." 
 
 Romashov thought at that moment that his voice 
 sounded peculiar and unnatural, as if he were being 
 throttled. " What a wretched creature I am in 
 their eyes ! " thought he, but in the next moment 
 consoled himself by the help of that forced special 
 pleading to which weak and timid persons usually 
 have recourse in similar predicaments. " Such you 
 always are; something goes wrong; you feel con- 
 
 1 Yuri = George.
 
 THE DUEL 51 
 
 fused, embarrassed, and at once you fondly imagine 
 that others notice it, though only you yourself can 
 be clearly conscious of it," etc., etc. 
 
 He sat down on a chair near Shurochka, whose 
 quick crochet needle was in full swing again. She 
 never sat idle, and all the table-covers, lamp-shades, 
 and lace curtains were the product of her busy 
 fingers. Romashov cautiously took up the long 
 crochet threads hanging from the ball, and said 
 
 " What do you call this sort of work? " 
 
 " Guipure. This is the tenth time you have asked 
 me that." 
 
 Shurochka glanced quickly at him, and then let 
 her eyes fall on her work ; but before long she 
 looked up again and laughed. 
 
 " Now then, now then, Yuri Alexievich, don't 
 sit there pouting. ' Straighten your back ! ' and 
 ' Head up ! ' Isn't that how you give your 
 commands ? " 
 
 But Romashov only sighed and looked out of the 
 corner of his eye at Nikolaiev's brawny neck, the 
 whiteness of which was thrown into strong relief 
 by the grey collar of his old coat. 
 
 " By Jove ! Vladimir Yefimovisch is a lucky dog. 
 Next summer he's going to St. Petersburg, and will 
 rise to the heights of the Academy." 
 
 " Oh, that remains to be seen," remarked 
 Shurochka, somewhat tartly, looking in her 
 husband's direction. " He has twice been plucked 
 at his examination, and with rather poor credit to 
 himself has had to return to his regiment. This will 
 be his last chance." 
 
 Nikolaiev turned round suddenly ; his handsome, 
 soldierly, moustached face flushed deeply, and his 
 big dark eyes glittered with rage. 
 
 " Don't talk rubbish, Shurochka. When I say,
 
 52 THE DUEL 
 
 I shall pass my examination, I shall pass it, and 
 that's enough about it." He struck the side of his 
 outstretched hand violently on the table. ' You are 
 always croaking. I said I should " 
 
 " Yes, ' / said I should,' " his wife repeated after 
 him, whilst she struck her knee with her little brown 
 hand. " But it would be far better if you could 
 answer the following question : ' What are the re- 
 quisites for a good line of battle ? ' Perhaps you 
 don't know " (she turned with a roguish glance 
 towards Romashov) " that I am considerably better 
 up in tactics than he. Well, Volodya Staff -General 
 that is to be answer the question now." 
 
 " Look here, Shurochka, stop it," growled 
 Nikolaiev in a bad temper. But suddenly he turned 
 round again on his chair towards his wife, and in his 
 wide-open, handsome, but rather stupid eyes might 
 be read an amusing helplessness, nay, even a certain 
 terror. 
 
 " Wait a bit, my little woman, and I will try to 
 remember. 'Good righting order'? A good 
 fighting order must be arranged so that one does not 
 expose oneself too much to the enemy's fire ; that 
 one can easily issue orders, that that wait a 
 minute." 
 
 " That waiting will be costly work for you in the 
 future, I think," said Shurochka, interrupting him, 
 in a serious tone. Then, with head down and her 
 body rocking, she began, like a regular schoolgirl, 
 to rattle off the following lesson without stumbling 
 over a single word 
 
 " ' The requisites of " good fighting order " are 
 simplicity, mobility, flexibility, and the ability to 
 accommodate itself to the ground. It ought to be 
 easy to be inspected and led. It must, as far as 
 possible, be out of reach of the enemy's fire, easy to
 
 THE DUEL 53 
 
 pass from one formation to another, and able to be 
 quickly changed from fighting to marching order.' 
 Done ! " 
 
 She opened her eyes, took a deep breath, and, as 
 she turned her lively, smiling countenance to 
 Romashov, said 
 
 " Was that all right ? " 
 
 " What a memory ! " exclaimed Nikolaiev en- 
 viously, as he once more plunged into his books. 
 
 " We study together like two comrades," ex- 
 plained Shurochka. " I could pass this examination 
 at any time. The main thing " she made an 
 energetic motion in the air with her crochet needle 
 " the main thing is to work systematically or 
 according to a fixed plan . Our system is entirely my 
 own invention, and I say so with pride. Every day 
 we go through a certain amount of mathematics and 
 the science of war I may remark, by the way, that 
 artillery is not my forte ; the formulae of projectiles 
 are to me specially distasteful besides a bit out of 
 the Drill and Army Regulations Book. Moreover, 
 every other day we study languages, and on the days 
 we do not study the latter we study history and 
 geography." 
 
 "And Russian too?" asked Romashov politely. 
 
 " Russian, do you say? Yes, that does not give us 
 much trouble ; we have already mastered Groth's 
 Orthography, and so far as the essays are concerned, 
 year after year they are after the eternal stereotyped 
 pattern : Para pacem, para bellurn; characteristics 
 of Onyagin and his epoch, etc., etc." 
 
 Suddenly she became silent, and snatched by a 
 quick movement the distracting crochet needle from 
 Romashov 's fingers. She evidently wanted to 
 monopolize the whole of his attention to what she 
 now intended to say. After this she began to speak
 
 54 THE DUEL 
 
 with passionate earnestness of what was at present 
 the goal of all her thoughts and aims. 
 
 " Romochka, please, try to understand me. I 
 cannot cannot stand this any longer. To remain 
 here is to deteriorate. To become a ' lady of the 
 regiment,' to attend your rowdy soirees, to talk 
 scandal and intrigue, to get into tempers every day, 
 and wear out one's nerves over the housekeeping, 
 money and carriage bills, to serve in turn, according 
 to precedency, on ladies' committees and benevolent 
 associations, to play whist, to no, enough of this. 
 You say that our home is comfortable and charming. 
 But just examine this bourgeois happiness. These 
 eternal embroideries and laces ; these dreadful 
 clothes which I have altered and modernized God 
 knows how often ; this vulgar, ' loud '-coloured sofa 
 rug composed of rags from every spot on earth 
 all this has been hateful and intolerable to me. 
 Don't you understand, my dear Romochka, that it 
 is society real society that I want, with brilliant 
 drawing-rooms, witty conversation, music, flirtation, 
 homage. As you are well aware, our good Volodya 
 is not one to set the Thames on fire, but he is 
 a brave, honourable, and industrious fellow. If he 
 can only gain admission to the Staff College I swear 
 to procure him a brilliant career. I am a good 
 linguist ; I can hold my own in any society what- 
 ever ; I possess I don't know how to express it a 
 certain flexibility of mind or spirit that helps me to 
 hold my own, to adapt myself everywhere. Finally, 
 Romochka, look at me, gaze at me carefully. Am 
 I, as a human being, so uninteresting ? Am I, as a 
 woman, so devoid of all charms that I deserve to be 
 doomed to stay and be s,oured in this hateful place, 
 in this awful hole which has no place on the map? " 
 
 She suddenly covered her face with her handker-
 
 THE DUEL 55 
 
 chief, and burst into tears of self-pity and wounded 
 pride. 
 
 Nikolaiev sprang from his chair and hastened, 
 troubled and distracted, to his wife ; but Shurochka 
 had already succeeded in regaining her self-control 
 and took her handkerchief away from her face. 
 There were no tears in her eyes now, but the glint 
 of wrath and passion had not yet died out of 
 them. 
 
 "It is all right, Volodya. Dear, it is nothing." 
 She pushed him nervously away. Immediately after- 
 wards she turned with a little laugh to Romashov, 
 and whilst she was again snatching the thread from 
 him, she said to him coquettishly : " Answer me 
 candidly, you clumsy thing, am I pretty or not ? 
 Remember, though, it is the height of impoliteness 
 not to pay a woman the compliment she wants." 
 
 " Shurochka, you ought to be ashamed of your- 
 self ! " exclaimed Nikolaiev reprovingly, from his 
 seat at the writing-table. 
 
 Romashov smiled with a martyr's air of resigna- 
 tion. Suddenly he replied, in a melancholy and 
 quavering voice 
 
 " You are very beautiful." 
 
 Shurochka looked at him roguishly from her half- 
 closed eyes, and a turbulent curl got loose and fell 
 over her forehead. 
 
 " Romochka, how funny you are ! " she twittered 
 in a rather thin, girlish voice. The sub-lieutenant 
 blushed and thought according to his wont 
 
 " And his heart was cruelly lacerated." 
 
 Nobody said a word. Shurochka went on 
 diligently crocheting. Vladimir Yefimovich, who 
 was bravely struggling with a German translation, 
 now and then mumbled out some German words. 
 One heard the flame softly sputtering and fizzing in
 
 56 THE DUEL 
 
 the lamp, which displayed a great yellow silk shade 
 in the form of a tent. Romochka had again 
 managed to possess himself of the crochet-cotton, 
 which, almost without thinking about it, he softly 
 and caressingly drew through the young woman's 
 fingers, and it afforded him a delightful pleasure to 
 feel how Shurochka unconsciously resisted his mis- 
 chievous little pulls. It seemed to him as if 
 mysterious, magnetic currents, now and again, 
 rushed backwards and forwards through the delicate 
 white threads. 
 
 Whilst he was steadily gazing at her bent head, 
 he whispered to himself, without moving his lips, 
 as if he were carrying on a tender and impassioned 
 conversation 
 
 " How boldly you said to me, ' Am I pretty ? ' 
 Ah, you are most beautiful ! Here I sit looking 
 at you. What happiness ! Now listen. I am going 
 to tell you how you look how lovely you are. But 
 listen carefully. Thy face is as dark as the night, 
 yet pale. It is a face full of passion. Thy lips are 
 red and warm and good to kiss, and thine eyes 
 surrounded by a light yellowish shadow. When thy 
 glance is directed straight before thee, the white of 
 thine eyes acquires a bluish shade, and amidst it all 
 there beams on me a great dark blue mysteriously 
 gleaming pupil. A brunette thou art not ; but thoti 
 recallest something of the gipsy. But thy hair is 
 silky and soft, and braided at the back in a knot so 
 neat and simple that one finds a difficulty in re- 
 fraining from stroking it. You little ethereal 
 creature, I could lift you like a little child in my 
 arms ; but you are supple and strong, your bosom 
 is as firm as a young girl's, and in all thy being: 
 there is something quick, passionate, compelling. A 
 good way down on your left ear sits a charming little
 
 THE DUEL 57 
 
 birthmark that is like the hardly distinguishable scar 
 after a ring has been removed. What charm " 
 
 " Have you read in the newspapers about the duel 
 between two officers?" asked Shurochka suddenly. 
 
 Romashov started as he awoke from his dreams, 
 but he found it hard to remove his gaze from her. 
 
 " No, I've not read about it, but I have heard talk 
 of it. What about it? " 
 
 " As usual, of course, you read nothing. Truly, 
 Yuri Alexeitch, you are deteriorating. In my 
 opinion the proceedings were ridiculous. I quite 
 understand that duels between officers are as 
 necessary as they are proper." 
 
 Shurochka pressed her crochet to her bosom 
 with a gesture of conviction. 
 
 " But why all this unnecessary and stupid cruelty? 
 Just listen. A lieutenant had insulted another 
 officer. The insult was gross, and the Court of 
 Honour considered a duel necessary. Now, there 
 would have been nothing to say about it, unless the 
 conditions themselves of the duel had been so fixed 
 that the latter resembled an ordinary execution : 
 fifteen paces distance, and the fight to last till one of 
 the duellists was hors de combat. This is only on a 
 par with ordinary slaughter, is it not ? But hear 
 what followed. On the duelling-ground stood all the 
 officers of the regiment, many of them with ladies ; 
 nay, they had even put a photographer behind the 
 bushes ! How disgusting ! The unfortunate sub- 
 lieutenant or ensign as Volodya usually says a man 
 of your youthful age, moreover the party insulted, 
 and not the one who offered the insult received, 
 after the third shot, a fearful wound in the stomach, 
 and died some hours afterwards in great torture. By 
 his deathbed stood his aged mother and sister, who 
 kept house for him. Now tell me why a duel should
 
 58 THE DUEL 
 
 be turned into such a disgusting spectacle. Of 
 course the immediate consequence " (Shurochka 
 almost shrieked these words) " was that all those 
 sentimental opponents of duelling eugh, how I de- 
 spise these ' liberal ' weaklings and poltroons 1 at 
 once began making a noise and fuss about ' bar- 
 barism/ ' fratricide,' how ' duels are a disgrace to 
 our times,' and more nonsense of that sort." 
 
 " Good God ! I could never believe that you were 
 so bloodthirsty, Alexandra Petrovna," exclaimed 
 Romashov, interrupting her . 
 
 " I am by no means bloodthirsty," replied Shuro- 
 chka, sharply. " On the contrary, I am very tender- 
 hearted. If a beetle crawls on to my neck I remove 
 it with the greatest caution so as not to inflict any 
 hurt on it but try and understand me, Romashov. 
 This is my simple process of reasoning : ' Why have 
 we officers?' Answer: 'For the sake of war.' 
 ' What are the most necessary qualities of an officer 
 in time of war? ' Answer : ' Courage and a 
 contempt of death.' ' How are these qualities best 
 acquired in time of peace ? ' Answer : ' By means 
 of duels.' How can that be proved? Duels are not 
 required to be obligatory in the French Army, for 
 a sense of honour is innate in the French officer ; 
 he knows what respect is due to himself and to 
 others. Neither is duelling obligatory in the German 
 Army, with its highly developed and inflexible 
 discipline. But with us us, as long as among our 
 officers are to be found notorious card-sharpers such 
 as, for instance, Artschakovski ; or hopeless sots, as 
 our own Nasanski, when, in the officers' mess or on 
 duty, violent scenes are of almost daily occurrence 
 then, such being the case, duels are both necessary 
 and salutary. An officer must be a pattern of 
 correctness ; he is bound to weigh every word he
 
 THE DUEL 59 
 
 utters. And, moreover, this delicate squeamishness, 
 the fear of a shot ! Your vocation is to risk your 
 life which is precisely the point." 
 
 All at once she brought her long speech to a close, 
 and with redoubled energy resumed her work. 
 
 44 Shurochka, what is ' rival ' in German? " asked 
 Nikolaiev, lifting his head from the book. 
 
 " Rival " ? Shurochka stuck her crochet-needle 
 in her soft locks. " Read out the whole sentence." 
 
 44 It runs wait directly directly ah ! it runs : 
 ' Our rival abroad.' ' 
 
 " Unser ausldndischer NebenbuhL'r" translated 
 Shurochka straight off. 
 
 " Unser," repeated Romashov in a whisper as he 
 gazed dreamily at the flame of the lamp. ' 4 When 
 she is moved," thought he, ' 4 her words come like 
 a torrent of hail falling on a silver tray. Unser 
 what a funny word ! Unser unser unser " 
 
 " What are you mumbling to yourself about, 
 Romashov?" asked Alexandra Petrovna severely. 
 " Don't dare to sit and build castles in the air whilst 
 I am present." 
 
 He smiled at her with a somewhat embarrassed 
 air. 
 
 " I was not building castles in the air, but repeat- 
 ing to myself 4 Unser unser.' Isn't it a funny 
 word ? " 
 
 14 What rubbish you are talking ! Unser. Why is 
 it funny? " 
 
 ' You see " (he made a jsjight pause as if he really 
 intended to think about what he meant to say), 44 if 
 one repeats the same word for long, and at the same 
 time concentrates on it all his faculty of thought, the 
 word itself suddenly loses all its meaning and be- 
 comes how can I put it ? " 
 
 44 I know, I know ! " she interrupted delightedly.
 
 60 THE DUEL 
 
 " But it is not easy to do it now. When I was a 
 child, now how we used to love doing it ! 
 ' Yes yes it belongs to childhood yes." 
 
 " How well I remember it ! I remember the word 
 ' perhaps ' particularly struck me. I could sit for 
 a long time with eyes shut, rocking my body to and 
 fro, whilst I was repeatedly saying over and over 
 again, ' Perhaps, perhaps.' And suddenly I quite 
 forgot what the word itself meant. I tried to 
 remember, but it was no use. I saw only a little 
 round, reddish blotch with two tiny tails. Are you 
 attending?" Romashov looked tenderly at her. 
 
 " How wonderful that we should think the same 
 thoughts ! " he exclaimed in a dreamy tone. " But 
 let us return to our unser . Does not this word 
 suggest the idea of something long, thin, lanky, 
 and having a sting a long, twisting insect, poison- 
 ous and repulsive?" 
 
 "Unser, did you say?" Shurochka lifted up 
 her head, blinked her eyes, and stared obstinately at 
 the darkest corner of the room. She was evidently 
 striving to improve on Romashov's fanciful ideas. 
 " No, wait. Unser is something green and sharp. 
 Well, we'll suppose it is an insect a grasshopper, 
 for instance but big, disgusting, and poisonous. 
 But how stupid we are, Romochka ! " 
 
 " There's another thing" I do sometimes, only it 
 was much easier when 1 was a child," .resumed 
 Romashov in a mysterious tone. " I used to 
 take a word and pronounce it slowly, extremely 
 slowly. Every letter was drawn out and empha- 
 sized interminably. All of a sudden I was seized 
 by a strangely inexpressible feeling : alleverything 
 near me sank into an abyss, and I alone remained, 
 marvelling that I lived, thought, and spoke." 
 
 " I, too, have had a similar sensation," interrupted
 
 THE DUEL 6 1 
 
 Shurochka gaily, " yet not exactly the same. Some- 
 times I made violent efforts to hold my breath all 
 the time I was thinking. " I am not breathing, 
 and I won't breathe again till, till then all at 
 once I felt as if time was running past me. 
 No, time no longer existed ; it was as if oh, I 
 can't explain ! " 
 
 Romashov gazed into her enthusiastic eyes, and 
 repeated in a low tone, thrilling with happiness 
 
 " No, you can't explain it. It is strange 
 inexplicable." 
 
 Nikolaiev got up from the table where he had been 
 working. His back ached, and his legs had gone 
 dead from long sitting in the same uncomfortable 
 position. The arteries of his strong, muscular body 
 throbbed when, with arms raised high, he stretched 
 himself to his full length. 
 
 " Look here, my learned psychologists, or what- 
 ever I should call you, it is supper-time." 
 
 A cold collation had been laid in the comfortable 
 little dining-room, where, suspended from the 
 ceiling, a china lamp with frosted glass shed its 
 clear light. Nikkolaiev never touched spirits, but 
 a little decanter of schnapps had been put on the 
 table for Romashov. Shurochka, contorting her 
 pretty face by a contemptuous grimace, said, in the 
 careless tone she so often adopted 
 
 " Of course, you can't do without that poison? " 
 
 Romashov smiled guiltily, and in his confusion 
 the schnapps went the wrong way, and set him 
 coughing . 
 
 "Aren't you ashamed of yourself?" scolded his 
 young hostess. " You can't even drink it without 
 choking over it. I can forgive it in your adored 
 Nasanski, who is a notorious drunkard, but for you, 
 a handsome, promising young man, not to be able
 
 62 THE DUEL' 
 
 to sit down to table without vodka, it is really melan- 
 choly. But that is Nasanski's doing too ! " 
 
 Her husband, who was glancing through the regi- 
 mental orders that had just come in, suddenly called 
 out 
 
 " Just listen ! ' Lieutenant Nasanski has received 
 a month's leave from the regiment to attend to his 
 private affairs.' Tut, tut ! What does that mean? 
 He has been tippling again? You, Yuri Alexievich, 
 are said, you know, to visit him. Is it a fact that 
 he has begun to drink heavily?" 
 
 Romashov looked embarrassed and lowered his 
 gaze. 
 
 " No, I have not observed it, but he certainly 
 does drink a little now and again, you know." 
 
 " Your Nasanski is offensive to me," remarked 
 Shurochka in a low voice, trembling with suppressed 
 bitterness. " If it were in my power I would have a 
 creature like that shot as if he were a mad dog. 
 Such officers are a disgrace to their regiment." 
 
 Almost directly after supper was over, Nikolaiev, 
 who in eating had displayed no less energy than he 
 had just done at his writing-table, began to gape, 
 and at last said quite plainly 
 
 " Do you know, I think I'll just take a little nap. 
 Or if one were to go straight off to the Land of 
 Nod, as they used to express it in our g'ood old 
 novels " 
 
 " A good idea, Vladimir Yefimovich," said 
 Romashov, interrupting him in, as he thought, a 
 careless, dreamy tone, but as he rose from table he 
 thought sadly, " They don't stand on ceremony with 
 me here. Why on earth do I come? " 
 
 It seemed to him that it afforded Nikolaiev a 
 particular pleasure to turn him out of the house ; but 
 just as he was purposely, saying 1 good-bye to his host
 
 THE DUEL 63 
 
 first, he was already dreaming of the delightful 
 moment when, in taking leave of Shurochka, he 
 would feel at the same time the strong yet caressing 
 pressure of a beloved one's hand. When this 
 longed-for moment at length arrived he found him- 
 self in such a state of happiness that he did not 
 hear Shurochka say to him 
 
 "Don't quite forget us. You know you are 
 always welcome. Besides, it is far more healthy 
 for you to spend your evenings with us than to sit 
 drinking with that dreadful Nasanski. Also, don't 
 forget we stand on no ceremony with you." 
 
 He heard her last words as it were in a dream, 
 but he did not realize their meaning till he reached 
 the street . 
 
 " Yes, that is true indeed ; they don't stand on 
 ceremony with me," whispered he to himself with 
 the painful bitterness in which young arid conceited 
 persons of his age are so prone to indulge.
 
 ROMASHOV was still standing on the doorstep. 
 The night was rather warm, but very dark. He 
 began to grope his way cautiously with his hand 
 on the palings whilst waiting until his eyes got 
 accustomed to the darkness. Suddenly the kitchen- 
 door of Nikolaiev's dwelling was thrown open, and 
 a broad stream of misty yellow light escaped. 
 Heavy steps sounded in the muddy street, the next 
 moment Romashov heard Stepan's, the Nikolaievs' 
 servant's, angry voice 
 
 " He comes here every blessed day, and the deuce 
 knows what he comes for." 
 
 Another soldier, whose voice Romashov did not 
 recognize, answered indifferently with a lazy, long- 
 drawn yawn 
 
 41 What business can it be of yours, my dear 
 fellow? Good-night, Stepan." 
 
 44 Good-night to you, Baulin ; look in when you 
 like." 
 
 Romashov's hands suddenly clung to the 
 palings. An unendurable feeling of shame made 
 him blush, in spite of the darkness. All his body 
 broke out into a perspiration, and, in his back and 
 the soles of his feet, he felt the sting of a thousand 
 red-hot, pointed nails. ' This chapter's closed ; 
 even the soldiers laugh at me," thought he with 
 indescribable pain. Directly afterwards it flashed 
 
 on his mind that that very evening, in many expres- 
 
 64
 
 THE DUEL 65 
 
 sipns used, in the tones of the replies, in glances 
 exchanged between man and wife, he had seen a 
 number of trifles that he had hitherto not noticed, 
 but which he now thought testified only to contempt 
 of him, and ridicule, impatience and indignation 
 at the persistent visits of that insufferable guest. 
 
 " What a disgrace and scandal this is to me I " he 
 whispered without stirring from the spot. " Things 
 have reached such a pitch that it is as much as the 
 Nikolaievs can do to endure my company." 
 
 The lights in their drawing-room were now 
 extinguished . "They are in their bedroom now," 
 thought Romashov, and at once he began fancying 
 that Nikolaiev and Shurochka were then talking 
 about him whilst making their toilet for the night 
 with the indifference and absence of bashfulness at 
 each other's presence that is characteristic of married 
 couples. The wife is sitting in her petticoat in front 
 of the mirror, combing her hair. Vladimir Yefimo- 
 vitch is sitting in his night-shirt at the edge of 
 the bed, and saying in a sleepy but angry tone, 
 whilst flushed with the exertion of taking off his 
 boots : " Hark you, Shurochka, that infernal bore, 
 your dear Romashov, will be the death of me with 
 his insufferable visits. And I really can't under- 
 stand how you can tolerate him." Then to this 
 frank and candid speech Shurochka replies, without 
 turning round, and with her mouth full of hairpins : 
 " Be good enough to remember, sir, he is not my 
 Romochka, but yours." 
 
 Another five minutes elapsed before Romashov, 
 still tortured by these bitter and painful thoughts, 
 made up his mind to continue his journey. Along 
 the whole extent of the palings belonging to the 
 Nikolaievs' house he walked with stealthy steps, 
 cautiously and gently dragging his feet from the 
 
 5
 
 66 THE DUEL 
 
 mire, as if he feared he might be discovered and 
 arrested as a common vagrant . To go straight home 
 was not to his liking at all. Nay, he dared not 
 even think of his gloomy, low-pitched, cramped room 
 with its single window and repulsive furniture. ' By 
 Jove 1 why shouldn't I look up Nasanski, just to 
 annoy her? " thought he all of a sudden, where- 
 upon he experienced the delightful satisfaction of 
 revenge . 
 
 " She reproached me for my friendship with 
 Nasanski. Well, I shall just for that very reason 
 pay him a visit." 
 
 He raised eyes to heaven, and said to himself 
 passionately, as he pressed his hands against his 
 heart 
 
 " I swear I swear that to-d&y I have visited them 
 for the last time . I will no longer endure this morti- 
 fication." 
 
 And immediately afterwards he added mentally, 
 as was his ingrained habit 
 
 " His expressive black eyes glistened with reso- 
 lution and contempt." 
 
 But Romashov's eyes, unfortunately, were neither 
 "black" nor "expressive," but of a very common 
 colour, slightly varying between yellow and green. 
 
 Nasanski tenanted a room in a comrade's 
 Lieutenant Sie"gerscht's house. This Siegerscht 
 was most certainly the oldest lieutenant in the whole 
 Russian Army. Notwithstanding his unimpeachable 
 conduct as an officer and the fact of his having 
 served in the war with Turkey, through some 
 unaccountable disposition of fate, his military career 
 seemed closed, and every hope of further advance- 
 ment was apparently lost. He was a widower, with 
 four little children and forty-eight roubles a month, 
 on which sum, strangely enough, he managed to
 
 THE DUEL 67 
 
 get along. It was his practice to hire large flats 
 which he afterwards, in turn, let out to his brother 
 officers. He took in boarders, fattened and sold 
 fowls and turkeys, and no one understood better 
 than he how to purchase wood and other necessaries 
 cheap and at the right time. He bathed his children 
 himself in a common trough, prescribed for them 
 from his Little medicine- chest when they were ill, 
 and, with his sewing-machine, made them tiny shirts, 
 under-vests, and drawers. Like many other officers, 
 Si6gerscht had, in his bachelor days, interested him- 
 self in woman's work, and acquired a readiness 
 with his needle that proved very useful in hard 
 times. Malicious tongues went so far as to assert 
 that he secretly and stealthily sold his handiwork. 
 
 Notwithstanding all his economy and closeness, 
 his life was full of troubles. Epidemic diseases 
 ravaged his fowl-house, his numerous rooms stood 
 unlet for long periods ; his boarders grumbled at 
 their bad food and refused to pay. The consequence 
 of this was that, three or four times a year, 
 Sidgerscht tall, thin, and unshaven, with cheerless 
 countenance and a forehead dripping with cold sweat 
 might be seen on his way to the town to borrow 
 some small sum. And all recognized the low, regi- 
 mental cap that resembled a pancake, always with 
 its peak askew, as well as the antiquated cloak, 
 modelled on those worn in the time of the Emperor 
 Nicholas, which waved in the breeze like a couple 
 of huge wings. 
 
 A light was burning in Sie'gerscht's flat, and as 
 Romashov approached the window, he saw him 
 sitting by a Hound table under a hanging-lamp . The 
 bald head, with its gentle, worti features, was bent 
 low over a little piece of red cloth which was prob- 
 ably destined to form an integral part of a Little
 
 68 THE DUEL 
 
 Russian roubashka.. 1 Romashov went up and tapped 
 at the window. Sie'gerscht started up, laid aside his 
 work, rose from the table, and went up to the 
 window. 
 
 " It is I, Adam Ivanich open the window a 
 moment." 
 
 Si6gerscht opened a little pane and looked out. 
 
 "Well, it's you, Sub- Lieutenant Romashov. 
 What's up? " 
 
 " Is Nasanski at home? " 
 
 " Of course he's at home where else should he 
 be? Ah 1 your friend Nasanski cheats me nicely, 
 I can tell you. For two months I have kept him 
 in food, but, as for his paying for it, as yet I've 
 only had grand promises. When he moved here, 
 I asked him most particularly that, to avoid unpleas- 
 antness and misunderstandings, he should " 
 
 " Yes, yes, we know all about that," interrupted 
 Romashov ; " but tell me now how he is. Will he 
 see me? " 
 
 " Yes, certainly, that he will ; he does nothing 
 but walk up and down his room." Siegerscht 
 stopped and listened for a second. " You yourself 
 can hear him tramping about. You see, I said to 
 him, ' To prevent unpleasantness and misunderstand- 
 ings, it will be best for ' ' 
 
 " Excuse me, Adam Ivanich ; but we'll talk of 
 that another time. I'm in a bit of a hurry," said 
 Romashov, interrupting him for the second time, 
 and meanwhile continuing his way round the corner. 
 A light was burning in one of Nasanski's windows ; 
 the other was wide open. Nasanski himself was 
 walking, in his shirt sleeves and without a collar, 
 backwards and forwards with rapid steps. Roma- 
 shov crept nearer the wall and called him by name. 
 
 ' Roubashka (blouse).
 
 THE DUEL 69 
 
 "Who's there?" asked Nasanski in a careless 
 tone, leaning out of the window. " Oh, it's you, 
 Georgie Alexievich. Come in through the window. 
 It's a long and dark way round through that door. 
 Hold out your hand and I'll help you." 
 
 Nasanski 's dwelling was if possible more wretched 
 that Romashov's. Along the wall by the window 
 stood a low, narrow, uncomfortable bed, the bulging, 
 broken bottom of which was covered by a coarse 
 cotton coverlet ; on the other wall one saw a plain 
 unpainted table with two common chairs without 
 backs. High up in one corner of the room was 
 a little cupboard fixed to the wall. A brown 
 leather trunk, plastered all over with address labels 
 and railway numbers, lay in state. There was not 
 a single thing in the room except these articles 
 and the lamp. 
 
 " Good-evening, my friend," said Nasanski, with 
 a hearty hand-shake and a warm glance from his 
 beautiful, deep blue eyes. " Please sit down on 
 this bed. As you've already heard, I have handed 
 in my sick-report." 
 
 ' Yes, I heard it just now from Nikolaiev." 
 
 Again Romashov called to mind Stepan's insulting 
 remark, the painful memory of which was reflected 
 in his face. 
 
 " Oh, you come from the Nikolaievs," cried Nas- 
 anski and with visible interest. " Do you often visit 
 them?" 
 
 The unusual tone of the question made Romashov 
 uneasy and suspicious, and he instinctively uttered 
 a falsehood. He answered carelessly 
 
 " No, certainly not often. I just happened to look 
 them up." 
 
 Nasanski, who Ijad beeji walking up and down the 
 room during the conversation, now stopped before
 
 70 THE DUEL 
 
 the little cupboard, the door of which he opened. 
 On one of its shelves stood a bottle of yodka, 
 and beside it lay an apple cut up into thin, even 
 slices. Standing with his back to his guest, 
 Nasanski poured out for himself a glass, and quickly 
 drained it. Romashov noticed how Nasanski's 
 back, under its thin linen shirt, quivered con- 
 vulsively. 
 
 " Would you like anything 1 ? " asked Nasanski, 
 with a gesture towards the cupboard. " My larder 
 is, as you see, poor enough ; but if you are hungry 
 one can always try and procure an omelette. Any- 
 how, that's more than our father Adam had to 
 offer." 
 
 44 Thanks, not now. Perhaps later on." 
 
 Nasanski stuck his hands in his pocket, and 
 walked about the room. After j>acing up and down 
 twice he began talking as though resuming an in- 
 terrupted conversation . 
 
 44 Yes, I am always walking up and down and 
 thinking. But I am quite happy. To-morrow, of 
 course, they will say as usual in the regiment, 
 4 He's a drunkard.' And that is true in a sense, 
 but it is not the whole truth. All the same, at 
 this moment, I'm happy ; I feel neither pain nor 
 ailments. It is different, alas ! in ordinary cir- 
 cumstances. My mind and will-power are para- 
 lysed ; I shall again become a cowardly and 
 despicably mean creature, vain, shabby, hypocritical 
 a curse to myself and every one else. I 
 loathe my profession, but, nevertheless, I remain 
 in it. And why? Ah I the devil himself could 
 not explain that. Because I had it knocked into 
 me in my childhood, and have lived since in a set 
 where it is held that the most important thing in life 
 is to serve the State, to be free from anxiety as
 
 THE DUEL 71 
 
 to one's clothes and daily bread. And philosophy, 
 people say, is mere rubbish, good enough for one 
 who has nothing else to do or who has come into a 
 goodly heritage from his dear mamma. 
 
 " Thus I, too, occupy myself with things in which 
 1 don't take the slightest interest, or issue orders that 
 seem to me both harsh and unmeaning. My daily 
 life is as monotonous and cheerless as an old deal 
 board, as rough and hard as a soldier's regulation 
 cap. I dare scarcely think of, far less talk of, 
 love, beauty, my place in the scheme of creation, 
 of freedom and happiness, of poetry and God. 
 They would only laugh ha I ha 1 ha I at me, and 
 say : ' Oh, damn it ! That, you know, is philosophy . 
 It is not only ridiculous but even dangerous for 
 an officer to show he holds any high views,' and 
 at best the officer escapes with being dubbed a 
 harmless, hopeless ass." 
 
 " And yet it is this that alone gives life any 
 value," sighed Romashov. 
 
 " And now the happy hour is drawing nigh 
 about which they tattle so heartlessly and with 
 so much contempt," Nasanski went on to say 
 without listening to Romashov's words. He 
 walked incessantly backwards and forwards, and 
 interpolated his speech, every now and then, with 
 striking gestures, which were not, however, 
 addressed to Romashov, but were always directed 
 to the two corners of the room which he visited 
 in turn. " Now comes my turn of freedom, 
 Romashov freedom for soul, thought, and will. 
 Then I shall certainly live a peculiar, but never- 
 theless rich, inner life. All that I have iseen, heard, 
 and read will then gain a deeper meaning, will 
 appear in a clear and more distinct light, nd receive 
 a deep, infinite significance. My memory will then
 
 72 THE DUEL 
 
 be like a museum of rare curiosities. I shall be 
 a very Rothschild. I take the first object within 
 my reach, gaze at it long, closely, and with rapture. 
 Persons, events, characters, books, women, love 
 nay, first arid last, women and love all this is 
 interwoven in my imagination. Now and then I 
 think of the heroes and geniuses of history, of the 
 countless martyrs of religion and science. I don't 
 believe in God, Romashov, but sometimes I think 
 of the saints and martyrs and call to mind the 
 Holy Scriptures and canticles." 
 
 Romashov got up quietly from his seat at the 
 edge of the bed and walked away to the open 
 window, and then he sat down with his back resting 
 against the sill. From that spot, from the lighted 
 room, the night seemed to him still darker and 
 more fraught with mystery. Tepid breezes whis- 
 pered just beneath the window, amongst the dark 
 foliage of the shrubs . And in this mild air, charged 
 with the sharp, aromatic perfume of spring, under 
 those gleaming stars, in this dead silence of the 
 universe, one might fancy he felt the hot breath 
 of reviving, generating, voluptuous Nature. 
 
 Nasanski continued all along his eternal wander- 
 ing, and indulged in building castles in the air, 
 without looking at Romashov, as if he were talking 
 to the walls. 
 
 " In these moments my thoughts seething, 
 motley, original chase one another. My senses 
 acquire an unnatural acuteness ; my imagination 
 becomes an overwhelming flood. Persons and 
 things, living or dead, which are evoked by me 
 stand before me in high relief and also in an extra- 
 ordinarily intense light, as if I sa!w them 'in a camera 
 obscura. I know, I know now, that all that is 
 merely a super-excitation of the senses, an emanation
 
 THE DUEL 73 
 
 of the soul flaming up like lightning, but in the next 
 instant flickering out, being produced by the physio- 
 logical influence of alcohol on the nervous system. 
 In the beginning I thought such psychic phenomena 
 implied an elevation of my inner, spiritual Ego, 
 and that even I might have moments of inspiration. 
 But no ; there was nothing permanent or of any 
 value in this, nothing creative or fructifying. Alto- 
 gether it was only a morbid, physiological process, 
 a river wave that at every ebb that occurs sucks away 
 with it and destroys the beach. Yes, this, alas I 
 is a fact. But it is also equally indisputable that 
 these wild imaginings procured me moments of 
 ineffable happiness. And besides, let the devil keep 
 for his share your much-vaunted high morality, 
 your hypocrisy, and your insufferable rules of health . 
 I don't want to become one of your pillar-saints 
 nor do I wish to live a hundred years so as to 
 figure as a physiological miracle in the advertise- 
 ment columns of the newspapers. I am happy, 
 and that suffices." 
 
 Nasanski again went up to the little cupboard, 
 poured out and swallowed a " nip," after which he 
 shut the cupboard door with much ceremony and an 
 expression on his face as if he had fulfilled a 
 religious duty. Romashov walked listlessly up from 
 the window to the cupboard, the life-giving contents 
 of which he sampled with a gloomy and blase 
 air. This done, he returned to his seat on the 
 window-bench . 
 
 " What were you thinking about just before I 
 came, Vasili Nilich? " asked Romashov, as he made 
 himself as comfortable as possible. 
 
 Nasanski, however, did not hear his question. 
 " How sweet it is to dream of women I " he ex- 
 claimed with a grand and eloquent gesture. " But
 
 74 THE DUEL 
 
 away with all unclean thoughts ! And why? Ah I 
 because no one has any right, even in imagination, 
 to make a human being a culprit in what is low, sin- 
 ful, and impure. How often I think of chaste, tender, 
 loving women, of their bright tears and gracious 
 smiles ; of young, devoted, self-sacrificing mothers, 
 of all those who have faced death for love ; of 
 proud, bewitching maidens with souls as pure as 
 snow, knowing all, yet afraid of nothing. But such 
 women do not exist yet I am wrong, Romashov ; 
 such women do exist although neither you nor I 
 have seen them. This may possibly be vouchsafed 
 you ; but to me never 1 " 
 
 He was now standing right in front of Romashov 
 and staring him straight in the face, but by the 
 far-off expression in his eyes, by the enigmatical 
 smile that played on his lips, any one could observe 
 that he did not even see to whom he was talking. 
 Never had Nasanski's countenance even in his 
 better and sober moments seemed to Romashov so 
 attractive and interesting as at this instant. His 
 golden hair fell in luxuriant curls around his pure 
 and lofty brow ; his blond, closely clipped beard 
 was curled in light waves, and his strong, handsome 
 head on his bare, classically shaped neck reminded 
 one of the sages and heroes of Greece, whose busts 
 Romashov had seen in engravings and at museums. 
 Nasanski's bright, clever blue eyes glistened with 
 moisture, and his well-formed features were rendered 
 still more engaging by the fresh colour of his com- 
 plexion, although a keen eye could not, I daresay, 
 avoid noticing a certain flabbiness the infallible 
 mark of every person addicted to drink. 
 
 " Love what an abyss of mystery is contained in 
 the word, and what bliss lies hidden in its tortures ! " 
 Nasanski went on to say in an enraptured voice.
 
 THE DUEL 75 
 
 In his violent excitement he caught hold of his 
 hair with both hands, and took two hasty strides 
 towards the other end of the room, but suddenly 
 stopped, and turned round sharply to Romashov 
 with a merry laugh. The latter observed him with 
 great interest, but likewise not without a certain 
 uneasiness . 
 
 " Just this moment I remember an amusing 
 story " (Nasanski now dropped into his usual good- 
 tempered tone), " but, ugh I how my wits go wool- 
 gathering now here, now there. Once upon a 
 time I sat waiting for the train at Ryasan, and 
 wait I did I suppose half a day, for it was right 
 in the middle of the spring floods, and the 
 train had met with real obstacles. Well, you 
 must know, I built myself a little nest in the 
 waiting-room. Behind the counter stood a girl 
 of eighteen not pretty, being pockmarked, but brisk 
 and pleasant. She had black eyes and a charming 
 smile. In fact, she was a very nice girl. We 
 were three, all told, at the station : she, I, and 
 a little telegraphist with white eyebrows and eye- 
 lashes. Ah 1 excuse me, there was another person 
 there the girl's father, a fat, red-faced, grey-haired 
 brute, who put me in mind of a rough old mastiff. 
 But this attractive figtire kept itself, as a rule, behind 
 the scenes. Only rarely and for a few minutes did 
 he put in an appearance behind the counter, ,to 
 yawn, scratch himself under his waistcoat, and 
 immediately afterwards disappear for a longish time. 
 He spent his life in bed, and his eyes were glued 
 together by eternally sleeping. The little teleg- 
 raphist paid frequent and regular visits to the 
 waiting-room, laid his elbows on the counter, but 
 was, for the most part, as mute as the grave. 
 She, too, was silent and looked dreamily out of the
 
 76 THE DUEL 
 
 window at the floods. All of a sudden our youngster 
 began humming 
 
 " ' Love love. 
 What is love ? 
 Something celestial 
 That drives us wild.' 
 
 " After this, again silence. A pause of five 
 minutes, she begins, in her turn 
 
 " ' Love love. 
 
 What is love ? ' etc. 
 
 " Both the sentimental words as well as the 
 melody were taken from some musty old operetta 
 that had perhaps been performed in the town, and 
 had become a pleasant recollection to both the young 
 people. Then again the same wistful song and 
 significant silence. At last she steals softly a couple 
 of paces to the window, all the while keeping one 
 hand on the counter. Our Celadon quietly lays 
 hold of the delicate fingers, one by one, and with 
 visible trepidation gazes at them in profound 
 devotion. And again the motif of that hackneyed 
 operetta is heard from his lips. It was spring with 
 all its yearning. Then all this cloying ' love ' only 
 awoke in me nausea and disgust, but, since then, I 
 have often thought with deep emotion of the vast 
 amount of happiness this innocent love-making 
 could bestow, and how it was most certainly the 
 only ray of light in the dreary lives of these two 
 human beings lives, very likely, even more empty 
 and barren than my own. But, I beg your pardon, 
 Romashov ; why should I bore you with my silly, 
 long-winded stories?" 
 
 Nasanski again betook himself to the little cup-
 
 THE DUEL 77 
 
 board, but he did not fetch out the schnapps bottle, 
 but stood motionless with his back turned to 
 Romashov. He scratched his forehead, pressed his 
 right hand lightly to his temple, and maintained this 
 position for a considerable while, evidently a prey to 
 conflicting thoughts. 
 
 4 You were speaking of women, love, abysses, 
 mystery, and joy," remarked Romashov, by way 
 of reminder. 
 
 " Yes, love," cried Nasanski in a jubilant voice. 
 He now took out the bottle, poured some of its 
 contents out, and drained the glass quickly, as he 
 turned round with a fierce glance, and wiped his 
 mouth with his shirt sleeve. " Love ! who do 
 you suppose understands the infinite meaning of 
 this holy word ? And yet from it men have derived 
 subjects for filthy, rubbishy operettas ; for lewd 
 pictures and statues, shameless stories and disgusting 
 'rhymes.' That is what we officers do. Yesterday 
 I had a visit from Ditz. He sat where you are 
 sitting now. He toyed with his gold pince-nez 
 and talked about women. Romashov, my friend, 
 I tell you that if an animal, a dog, for instance, 
 possessed the faculty of understanding human 
 speech, and had happened to hear what Ditz said 
 yesterday, it would have fled from the room 
 ashamed. Ditz, as you know, Romashov, is a ' good 
 fellow,' and even the others are ' good/ for really 
 bad people do not exist ; but for fear of forfeiting 
 his reputation as a cynic, ' man about town,' and 
 4 lady-killer,' he dares not express himself about 
 women otherwise than he does . Amongst our young 
 men there is a universal confusion of ideas that 
 often finds expression in bragging contempt, and 
 the cause of this is that the great majority seek 
 in the possession of women only coarse, sensual,
 
 78 THE DUEL 
 
 brutish enjoyment, and that is the reason why love 
 becomes to them only something contemptible, 
 wanton well, I don't know, damn it 1 how to 
 express exactly what I mean and, when the animal 
 instincts are satisfied, coldness, disgust, and enmity 
 are the natural result. The man of culture has 
 said good-night to love, just as he has done to 
 robbery and murder, and seems to regard it only as 
 a sort of snare set by Nature for the destruction 
 of humanity." 
 
 " That is the truth about it," agreed Romashov 
 quietly and sadly. 
 
 " No, that is not true 1 " shouted Nasanski in a 
 voice of thunder. " Yes, I say it once more it is a 
 lie. In this, as in everything else, Nature has re- 
 vealed her wisdom and ingenuity. The fact is 
 merely that whereas Lieutenant Ditz finds in love only 
 brutal enjoyment, disgust, and surfeit, Dante finds 
 in it beauty, felicity, and harmony. True love is the 
 heritage of the elect, and to understand this let us 
 take another simile. All mankind has an ear for 
 music, but, in the case of millions, this is developed 
 about as much as in stock-fish or Staff -Captain 
 Vasilichenko . Only one individual in all these 
 millions is a Beethoven. And the same is the case 
 in everything in art, science, poetry. And so far as 
 love is concerned, I tell you that even this has its 
 peaks which only one out of millions is able to 
 climb." 
 
 He walked to the window, and leaned his forehead 
 against the sill where Romashov sat gazing out 
 on the warm, dark, spring night. At last he said 
 in a voice low, but vibrating with strong inward 
 excitement 
 
 " Oh, if we could see and grasp Love's innermost 
 being, its supernatural beauty and charm we gross,
 
 THE DUEL 79 
 
 blind earth-worms ! How many know and feel what 
 happiness, what delightful tortures exist in an un- 
 dying, hopeless love ? I remember, when I was a 
 youth, how all my yearning took form and shape in 
 this single dream : to fall in love with an ideally 
 beautiful and noble woman far beyond my reach, 
 and standing so high above me that every thought 
 of possessing her I might harbour was mad and 
 criminal ; to consecrate to her all my life, all my 
 thoughts, without her even suspecting it, and to 
 carry my delightful, torturing secret with me to the 
 grave.; to be her slave, her lackey, her protector, 
 or to employ a thousand arts just to see her once a 
 year, to come close to her, and oh, maddening 
 rapture I to touch the hem of her garment or kiss 
 
 the ground on which she had walked " 
 
 " And to wind up in a mad-house," exclaimed 
 Romashov in a gloomy tone. 
 
 "Oh, my dear fellow, what does that matter?" 
 cried Nasanski passionately. " Perhaps who knows? 
 one might then attain to that state of bliss one 
 reads of in stories. Which is best to lose your 
 wits through a love which can never be realized, 
 or, like Ditz, to go stark mad from shameful, in- 
 curable diseases or slow paralysis? Just think what 
 felicity to stand all night in front of her window 
 on the other side of the street. Look, there's a 
 shadow visible behind the drawn curtain can it 
 be she? What's she doing? What's she thinking 
 of? The light is lowered sleep, my beloved, sleep 
 in peace, for Love is keeping vigil. Days, months, 
 years pass away.;; the moment at last arrives when 
 Chance, perhaps, bestows on you her glove, handker- 
 chief, the concert programme she has thrown away. 
 She is not acquainted with you, does not even know 
 that you exist. Her glance passes over you without
 
 8o THE DUEL 
 
 seeing you ; but there you stand with the same 
 unchangeable, idolatrous adoration, ready to sacrifice 
 yourself for her nay, even for her slightest whim, 
 for her husband, lover, her pet dog, to sacrifice 
 life, honour, and all that you hold dear. Romashov, 
 a bliss such as this can never fall to the lot of our 
 Don Juans and lady-killers." 
 
 "Ah, how true this is I how splendidly you 
 speak ! " cried Romashov, carried away by Nasanski's 
 passionate words and gestures. Long before this 
 he had got up from the window, and now he was 
 walking, like his eccentric host, up and down the 
 long, narrow room, pacing the floor with long, quick 
 strides. " Listen, Nasanski. I will tell you some- 
 thing about myself. Once upon a time I fell in 
 love with a woman oh, not here.; no, in Moscow. 
 I was then a mere stripling. Ah, well, she had no 
 inkling of it, and it was enough for me to be allowed 
 to sit near her when she sewed, and to draw 
 quietly and imperceptibly, the threads towards me. 
 That was all, and she noticed nothing ; but it was 
 enough to turn my head with joy." 
 
 "Ah, yes, how well I understand this ! " replied 
 Nasanski with a friendly smile, nodding his head all 
 the time. " A delicate white thread charged with 
 electrical currents. What a store of poetry is en- 
 shrined in that ! My dear fellow, life is so 
 beautiful ! " 
 
 Nasanski, absorbed in profound reverie, grew 
 silent, and his blue eyes were bright with tears. 
 Romashov also felt touched, and there was some- 
 thing nervous, hysterical, and spontaneous about this 
 melancholy of his, but these expressions of pity 
 were not only for Nasanski, but himself. 
 
 " Vasili Nilich, I admire you," cried he as he 
 grasped and warmly pressed both Nasanski's hands.
 
 THE DUEL 8 1 
 
 " But how can so gifted, far-sighted, and wideawake 
 a man as you rush, with his eyes open, to his own 
 destruction? But I am the last person on earth who 
 ought to read you a lesson on morals. Only one 
 more question : supposing in the course of your life 
 you happened to meet a woman worthy of you, 
 
 and capable of appreciating you, would you then ? 
 
 I've thought of this so often." 
 
 Nasanski stopped and stared for a long time 
 through the open window. 
 
 " A woman " he uttered the word slowly and 
 
 dreamily. " I'll tell you a story," he continued 
 suddenly and in an energetic tone. " Once in my 
 life I met an exceptional ah ! wonderful woman, 
 a young girl, but as Heine somewhere says : * She 
 was worthy of being loved, and he loved her ; but 
 he was not worthy, and she did not love him.' Her 
 love waned because I drank, or perhaps it was I 
 drank because she did not love me. She by the 
 way, it was not here that this happened. It was a 
 long time ago, and you possibly know that I first 
 served in the infantry for three years, after that 
 for four years with the reserves, and for a second 
 time, three years ago, I came here. Well, to 
 continue, between her and me there was no romance 
 whatever. We met and had five or six chats 
 together that was all. But have you ever thought 
 what an irresistible, bewitching might there is in the 
 past, in our recollections ? The memory of these 
 few insignificant episodes of my life constitutes the 
 whole of my wealth'. I love her even to this very 
 day. Wait, Romashov, you deserve to hear it I 
 will read out to you the first and only letter I ever 
 received from her." He crouched down before the 
 old trunk, opened it, and began rummaging im- 
 patiently among a mass of old papers, during which 
 
 6
 
 82 THE DUEL 
 
 he kept on talking. " I know she never loved any 
 one but herself. There was a depth of pride, im- 
 periousness, even cruelty about her, yet, at the same 
 time, she was so good, so genuinely womanly, so 
 infinitely pleasant and lovable. She had two 
 natures the one egoistical and calculating, the other 
 all heart and passionate tenderness. See here, I 
 have it. Read it now, Romashov. The beginning 
 will not interest you much " (Nasanski turned over 
 a few lines of the letter), " but read from here ; 
 read it all." 
 
 Romashov felt as if some one had struck him a 
 stunning blow on the head, and the whole room 
 seemed to dance before his eyes, for the letter was 
 written in a large but nervous and compressed hand, 
 that could only belong to Alexandra Petrovna 
 quaint, irregular, but by no means unsympathetic. 
 Romashov, who had often received cards from her 
 with invitations to small dinners and card parties, 
 recognized this hand at once. 
 
 "It is a bitter and hard task for me to write 
 this," read Romashov under Nasanski 's hand ; " but 
 only you yourself are to blame for our acquaintance 
 coming to this tragic end. Lying I abominate 
 more than anything else in life. It always springs 
 from cowardice and weakness, and this is the reason 
 why I shall also tell you the whole truth. I loved 
 you up to now ; yes, I love you even now, and il 
 know it will prove very hard for me to master this 
 feeling. But I also know that, in the end, I shall 
 gain the victory. What do you suppose our lot 
 would be if I acted otherwise ? I confess I lack the 
 energy and self-denial requisite for becoming the 
 housekeeper, nurse-girl, or sister of mercy to a 
 weakling with no will of his own. I loathe above 
 everything self-sacrifice and pity for others, and I
 
 THE DUEL 83 
 
 shall let neither you nor any one else excite these 
 feelings in me. I will not have a husband who 
 would only be a dog at my feet, incessantly craving 
 alms or proofs of affection. And you would never be 
 anything else, in spite of your extraordinary talents 
 and noble qualities. Tell me now, with your hand 
 upon your heart, if you are capable of it. Alas 1 my 
 dear Vasili Nilich, if you could. All my heart, all 
 my life yearns for you. I love you. What is the 
 obstacle, then? No one but yourself. For a person 
 one loves, one can, you know, sacrifice the whole 
 world, and now I ask of you only this one thing ; 
 but can you ? No, you cannot, and now I bid you 
 good-bye for ever. In thought I kiss you on your 
 forehead as one kisses a corpse, and you are dead 
 to me for ever. I advise you to destroy this letter, 
 not that I blush for or fear its contents, but because 
 I think it will be a source to you of tormenting, 
 recollections. I repeat once more " 
 
 " The rest is of little interest to you," said 
 Nasanski abruptly, as he took the letter from 
 Romashov's hand. " This, as I have just told you, 
 was Jier only letter to me." 
 
 "What happened afterwards?" stammered 
 Romashov awkwardly. 
 
 " Afterwards ? We never saw one another after- 
 wards. She went her way and is reported to have 
 married an engineer. That, however, is another 
 matter." 
 
 "And you never visit Alexandra Petrovna?" 
 
 Romashov uttered these words in a whisper, but 
 both officers started at the sound of them, and gazed 
 at each other a long time without speaking. During 
 these few seconds all the barriers raised by human 
 guile and hypocrisy fell away, and the two men read 
 each other's soul as an open bqok. Hundreds of
 
 84 THE DUEL 
 
 things that had hitherto been for them a profound 
 secret stood before them that moment in dazzling 
 light, and the whole of the conversation that evening 
 suddenly took a peculiar, deep, nay, almost tragic, 
 significance. 
 
 "What? you too?" exclaimed Nasanski at last, 
 with an expression bordering on fear in his eyes, but 
 he quickly regained his composure and exclaimed 
 with a laugh, " Ugh I what a misunderstanding! 
 We were discussing something quite different. That 
 letter which you have just read was written hundreds 
 of years ago, and the woman in question lived in 
 Transcaucasia. But where was it we left off? " 
 
 " It is late, Vasili Nilich, and time to say good- 
 night," replied Romashov, rising. 
 
 Nasanski did not try to keep him. They separated 
 neither in a cold or unfriendly way, but they were, 
 as it seemed, ashamed of each other. Romashov 
 was now more convinced than ever that the letter 
 was from Shurochka. During the whole of his 
 way home he thought of nothing except this letter, 
 but he could not make out what feelings it aroused 
 in him. They were a mingling of jealousy of 
 Nasanski jealousy on account of what had been 
 but also a certain exultant pity for Nasanski, and 
 in himself there awoke new hopes, dim and in- 
 definite, but delicious and alluring. It was as if this 
 letter had put into his hand a mysterious, invisible 
 clue that was leading him into the future. 
 
 The breeze had subsided. The tepid night's 
 intense darkness and silence reminded one of soft, 
 warm velvet. One felt, as it were, life's mystic 
 creative force in the never-slumbering air, in the 
 dumb stillness of the invisible trees, in the smell of 
 the earth. Romashov walked without seeing which 
 way he went, and it seemed to him as if he felt the
 
 THE DUEL 85 
 
 hot breath' of something strong and powerful, but, 
 at the same time, sweet and caressing. His thoughts 
 went back with dull, harrowing pain to bygone happy 
 springs that would never more return to the 
 blissful, innocent days of his childhood. 
 
 When he reached home he found on the table 
 another letter from Raisa Alexandrovna Peterson. 
 In her usual bad taste she complained, in turgid, 
 extravagant terms, of his " deceitful conduct " to- 
 wards her. She " now understood everything," and 
 the " injured woman " within her invoked on him 
 all the perils of hatred and revenge. 
 
 Now I know what I have to do (the letter ran). If I survive the 
 sorrow and pain of your abominable conduct, you may be quite 
 certain I shall cruelly avenge this insult. You seem to think that 
 nobody knows where you are in the habit of spending your evenings. 
 You are watched 1 and even walls have ears. Every step you take is 
 known to me. But all the same, you will never get anything there 
 with all your soft, pretty speeches, unless N. flings you downstairs 
 like a puppy. So far as I am concerned, you will be wise not to lull 
 yourself into fancied security. I am not one of those women who let 
 themselves be insulted with impunity. 
 
 A Caucasian woman am I 
 
 Who knows how to handle a knife. 
 
 Once yours, now nobody's, 
 
 RAISA. 
 
 PS. I command you to meet me at the soiree on Saturday and 
 explain your conduct. The third quadrille will be kept for you ; but 
 mind, there is no special importance now in that. 
 
 R. P. 
 
 To Romashov this ill -spelled, ungrammatical letter 
 was a breath of the stupidity, meanness, and spiteful 
 tittle-tattle of a provincial town. He felt for ever 
 soiled from head to foot by this disgusting liaison, 
 scarcely of six months' standing, with a woman he
 
 86 THE DUEL 
 
 had never loved. He threw himself on his bed 
 with an indescribable feeling of depression. He 
 even felt as if he were torn to tatters by the events 
 of the day, and he involuntarily called to mind 
 Nasanski's words that very night : " his thoughts 
 were as grey as a soldier's cloak." 
 
 He soon fell into a deep, heavy sleep. As he 
 had always done of late, when he had had bitter 
 moments, he saw himself, even now in his dreams, 
 as a little child. There were no impure impulses 
 in him, no sense of something lacking, no weariness 
 of life ; his body was light and healthy, and his 
 soul was luminous and full of joy and hope ; and 
 in this world of radiance and happiness he 3aw 
 dear old Moscow's streets in the dazzling brightness 
 that is presented to the eyes in dreamland. But 
 far away by the horizon, at the very verge of this 
 sky that was saturated with light, there arose quickly 
 and threateningly a dark, ill-boding wall of cloud, 
 behind which was hidden a horrible provincial hole 
 of a place with cruel and unbearable slavery, drills, 
 recruit schools, drinking, false friends, and utterly 
 corrupt women. His life was nothing but joy and 
 gladness, but the dark cloud was waiting patiently 
 for the moment when it was to fold him in its 
 deadly embrace. And it so happened that little 
 Romashov, amidst his childish babble and innocent 
 dreams, bewailed in silence the fate of his 
 "double." 
 
 He awoke in the middle of the night, and noticed 
 that his pillow was wet with tears. Then he wept 
 afresh, and the warm tears again ran down his 
 cheeks in rapid streams.
 
 WITH the exception of a few ambitious men bent 
 on making a career for themselves, all the officers 
 regarded the service as an intolerable slavery to 
 which they must needs submit. The younger of 
 them behaved like veritable schoolboys ; they came 
 late to the drills, and wriggled away from them 
 as soon as possible, provided that could be done 
 without risk of serious consequences to themselves 
 afterwards. The captains, who, as a rule, were 
 burdened with large families, were immersed in 
 household cares, scandals, money troubles, and were 
 worried the whole year through with loans, 
 promissory notes, and other methods of raising 1 the 
 wind. Many ventured often at the instigation of 
 their wives secretly to divert to their own purposes 
 the moneys belonging to the regiment and the 
 soldiers' pay nay, they even went so far as 
 " officially " to withhold their men's private letters 
 when the latter were found to contain money. Some 
 lived by gambling vint, schtoss, lansquenet and 
 certain rather ugly stories were told in connection 
 with this stories which high authorities had a good 
 deal of trouble to suppress. In addition to all 
 this, heavy drinking, both at mess and in their 
 own homes, was widespread amongst the officers. 
 With regard to the officers' sense of duty, that, 
 too, was, as a rule, altogether lacking. The non- 
 
 8 7
 
 88 THE DUEL 
 
 commissioned officers did all the work ; the pay- 
 sergeants set in motion and regulated the inner 
 mechanism of the company, and were held re- 
 sponsible for the despatch of it ; hence very soon, 
 and quite imperceptibly, the commander became a 
 mere marionette in the coarse, experienced hands 
 of his subordinates. The senior officers, moreover, 
 regarded the exercises of the troops with the same 
 aversion as did their junior comrades, and if at 
 any time they displayed their zeal by punishing 
 an ensign, they only did it to gain prestige or 
 which was more seldom the case to satisfy their 
 lust of power or desire for revenge. 
 
 Captains of brigades and battalions had, as a rule, 
 absolutely nothing to do in the winter. During 
 the summer it was their duty to inspect the exercises 
 of the battalion, to assist at those of the regiment 
 and division, and to undergo the hardships of the 
 field-manoeuvres. During their long freedom from 
 duty they used to sit continually in their mess-room, 
 eagerly studying the Russki Invalid, 1 and savagely 
 criticizing aU new appointments ; but cards were, 
 however, their alpha and omega, and they most 
 readily permitted their juniors to be their hosts, 
 though they but very rarely exercised a cautious 
 hospitality in their own homes, and then only with 
 the object of getting their numerous daughters 
 married . 
 
 But when the time for the great review 
 approached, it was quite another tune. All, from 
 the highest to the lowest, were seized by a sort 
 of madness. There was no talk of peace and quiet 
 then ; every one tried, by additional hours of drill 
 and an almost maniacal activity, to make up for 
 previous negligence. The soldiers were treated with 
 1 The official newspaper of the Russian Army.
 
 THE DUEL 89 
 
 the most heartless cruelty, and overtaxed to the 
 last degree of sheer exhaustion. Every one was 
 tyrant over some wretch ; the company commanders, 
 with endless curses, threatened their " incompetent " 
 subalterns, and the latter, in turn, poured the vials 
 of their wrath over the " non-coms.," and the ! " non- 
 coms.," hoarse with shouting orders, oaths, and the 
 most frightful insults, struck and misused the soldiers 
 in the most ferocious manner. The whole camp 
 and parade-ground were changed into a hell, and 
 Sundays, with their indispensable rest and peace, 
 loomed like a heavenly paradise in the eyes of the 
 poor tortured recruits. 
 
 This spring the regiment was preparing for the 
 great May parade. It was at this time common 
 knowledge that the review was to take place before 
 the commander of the corps a strict old veteran, 
 known throughout military literature by his works 
 on the Carlist War and the Franco-German Cam- 
 paign of 1870, in which he took part as a volunteer. 
 Besides, he was known throughout the kingdom 
 for his eccentric general orders and manifestoes 
 that were invariably couched in a lapidary style a la 
 Sav6roff. The reckless, sharp, and coarse sarcasm 
 he always infused into his criticism was feared by 
 the officers more than even the severest disciplinary 
 punishment . 
 
 It was not to be wondered at that for a fortnight 
 the whole regiment worked with feverish energy, and 
 Sunday was no less longed for by the utterly worn- 
 out officers than by the men, who were well-nigh 
 tortured to death . 
 
 But to Romashov, who sat idle under arrest, 
 Sunday brought neither joy nor repose. As he 
 had tried in vain to sleep during the night, he 
 got up early, dressed slowly and unwillingly, drank
 
 90 THE DUEL 
 
 his tea with undisguised repugnance, and refreshed 
 himself at last by hurling! a few insults at Hainan, 
 who did not heed them in the least, but continued 
 to stalk about the room as happy, active, and clumsy 
 as a puppy. 
 
 Romashov sauntered up and down his narrow 
 room in his unbuttoned., carelessly donned undress 
 uniform. Now he bumped his knee against the foot 
 of the bed, now his elbow against the rickety book- 
 case. It was the first time now for half a year 
 thanks to a somewhat unpleasant accident that he 
 found himself alone in his own abode. He had 
 always been occupied with drill, sentry duty, card- 
 playing, and libations to Bacchus, dancing atten- 
 dance on the Peterson woman, and evening calls 
 on the Nikolaievs. Sometimes, if he happened to 
 be free and had nothing particular in view, 
 Romashov might, if worried by moping and lazi- 
 ness, and as if he feared his own company, rush 
 aimlessly off to the club, or some acquaintance, or 
 simply to the street, in hopes of finding some 
 bachelor comrade a meeting which infallibly ended 
 with a drinking-bout in the mess-room. Now he 
 contemplated with dread the long, unendurable day 
 of loneliness and boredom before him, and a crowd 
 of stupid, extraordinary fancies and projects buzzed 
 in his brain. 
 
 The bells in the town were ringing for High 
 Mass. Through the inner window, which had not 
 been removed since the winter began, forced their 
 way into the room these trembling tones that were 
 produced, as it were, one from the other, and in 
 the melancholy clang of which, on this sentimental 
 spring morning, there lay a peculiar power of 
 charm. Immediately outside Romashov 's window lay 
 a garden in which many cherry-trees grew in rich
 
 THE DUEL 91 
 
 abundance, all white with blooms, and all soft 
 and round as a flock of snow-white sheep whose 
 wool was fine. Between them, here and there, 
 arose slim but gigantic poplars that stretched their 
 boughs beseechingly towards heaven, and ancient, 
 venerable chestnut -trees with their dome -like crests. 
 The trees were still bare, with black, naked boughs, 
 but on these, though the eye could hardly discern 
 them, the first yellowish verdure, fresh as the dew, 
 began to be visible. In the pure, moisture -laden 
 air of the newly -a wakened spring day, the trees 
 rocked softly here and there before the cool, sportive 
 breezes that murmured from time to time among the 
 flowers, and bowed them to the ground with a 
 roguish kiss. 
 
 From the windows one could discern, on the left, 
 through a gateway, a part of the dirty street, which 
 on one side was fenced off. People passed along- 
 side of the fence from time to time, walking slowly 
 as they picked out a dry place for their next step. 
 " Lucky people," thought Romashov, as he enviously 
 followed them with his eyes, " they need not hurry. 
 They have the whole of the long day before them 
 ah ! a whole, free, glorious day." 
 
 And suddenly there came over him a longing 
 for freedom so intense and passionate that tears 
 rushed to his eyes, and he had great difficulty in 
 restraining himself from running out of the house. 
 Now, however, it was not the mess-room that 
 attracted him, but only the yard, the street, fresh air. 
 It was as if he had never understood before what 
 freedom was, and he was astonished at the amount 
 of happiness that is comprised in the simple fact 
 that one may go where one pleases, turn into this 
 or that street, stop in the middle of the square, peep 
 into a half -opened church door, etc., etc., all at
 
 92 THE DUEL 
 
 one's own sweet will and without having 1 to fear 
 the consequences. The right to do, and the possi- 
 bility of doing, all this would be enough to fill 
 a man's heart with an exultant sense of joy and 
 bliss. 
 
 He remembered in connection with this hoWj in 
 his earliest youth, long before he entered the 'Cadet 
 School, his mother used to punish him by tying 
 him tightly to the foot of the bed with fine thread, 
 after which she left him. by himself ; and little 
 Romashov sat for whole hours submissively still. 
 But never for an instant did it occur to him to flee 
 from the house, although, under ordinary circum- 
 stances, he never stood on ceremony for instance, 
 to slide down the water-pipe from other storys to 
 the street ; to dangle, without permission, after a 
 military band or a funeral procession as far as the 
 outskirts of Moscow ; or to steal from his mother 
 lumps of sugar, jam, and cigarettes for older play- 
 fellows, etc. But this brittle thread exercised a 
 remarkable hypnotizing influence on his mind as 
 a child. He was even afraid of breaking it by 
 some sudden, incautious movement. In that case he 
 was influenced by no fear whatsoever of punishment, 
 neither by a sense of duty, nor by regret, but by 
 pure hypnosis, a superstitious dread of the un- 
 fathomable power and superiority of grown-up or 
 older persons, which reminds one of the savage 
 who, paralysed by fright, dares not take a step 
 beyond the magic circle that the conjurer has drawn. 
 
 " And here I am sitting now like a schoolboy, 
 like a little helpless, mischievous brat tied by the 
 leg," thought Romashov as he slouched backwards 
 and forwards in his room. " The door is open, I 
 can go when I please, can do what I please, can 
 talk and laugh but I am kept back by a thread.
 
 THE DUEL 93 
 
 / sit here ; / and nobody else. Some one has 
 ordered me to sit here, and I shall sit here ; but 
 who has authorized him to order this? Certainly 
 not /. 
 
 " I " Romashov stood in the middle of the room 
 with his legs straddling and his head hanging down, 
 thinking deeply. " /, /, // " he shouted in a loud 
 voice, in which there lay a certain note of astonish- 
 ment, as if he now was first beginning to compre- 
 hend the meaning of this short word. "Who is 
 standing here and gaping at that black crack in the 
 floor ? Is it really I ? How curious I " he paused 
 slowly and with emphasis on the monosyllable, just 
 as if it were only by such means that he could 
 grasp its significance. 
 
 He smiled unnaturally ; but, in the next instant, 
 he frowned, and turned pale with emotion and strain 
 of thought. Such small crises had not infrequently 
 happened to him during the last five or six years, 
 as is nearly always the case with young people 
 during that period of life when the mind is in 
 course of development. A simple truth, a saying, 
 a common phrase, with the meaning of which he 
 has long ago been familiar, suddenly, by some 
 mysterious impulse from within, stands in a new 
 light, and so receives a particular philosophical 
 meaning. Romashov could still remember the first 
 time this happened to him. It was at school during 
 a catechism lesson, when the priest tried to explain 
 the parable of the labourers who carried away stones. 
 One o'f them began with the light stones, and after- 
 wards took the heavier ones, but when at last he 
 came to the very heaviest of all his strength /was 
 exhausted. The other worked according to a 
 diametrically different plan, and luckily fulfilled his 
 duty. To Romashov was opened the whole abyss
 
 94 THE DUEL 
 
 of practical wisdom that lay hidden in this simple 
 picture that he had known and understood ever 
 since he could read a book. Likewise with the old 
 saying : '' Seven times shalt thou measure, once 
 shalt thou cut." In a happy moment he suddenly 
 perceived the full, deep import of this maxim ; 
 wisdom, understanding, wise economy, calculation. 
 A tremendous experience of life lay concealed in 
 these few words. Such was the case now. All his 
 mental individuality stood suddenly before him with 
 the distinctness of a lightning flash. 
 
 " My Ego," thought Romashov, " is only that 
 which is within me, the very kernel of my being ; 
 all the rest is the non-Ego that is, only secondary 
 things. This room, street, trees, sky, the com- 
 mander of my regiment, Lieutenant Andrusevich, 
 the service, the standard, the soldiers all this is 
 non-Ego. No, no, this is non-Ego my hands and 
 feet." Romashov lifted up his hands to the level 
 of his face, and looked at them with wonder and 
 curiosity, as if he saw them now for the first time 
 in his life. " No, all this is non-Ego. But look I 
 pinch my arm that is the Ego. I see my arm, 
 I lift it up this is the Ego. And what I am 
 thinking now is also Ego. If I now want to go my 
 way, that is the Ego. And even if I stop, that 
 is the Ego. 
 
 " Oh, how wonderful, how mysterious is this. 
 And so simple too. Is it true that all individuals 
 possess a similar Ego ? Perhaps it is only I who 
 have it? Or perhaps nobody has it. Down there 
 hundreds of soldiers stand drawn up in front of me. 
 I give the order : ' Eyes to the right,' to hundreds 
 of human beings who has each his own Ego, and 
 who see in me something foreign, distant, i.e. non- 
 Ego then turn their heads at once^to the right.
 
 THE DUEL 95 
 
 But I do not distinguish one from the other ; they 
 are to me merely a mass. And to Colonel Schul- 
 govich both I and Viatkin and Lbov, and all the 
 captains and lieutenants, are likewise perhaps merely 
 a ' mass/ viz., he does not distinguish one of us 
 from the other, or, in other words, we are entirely 
 outside his ken as individuals to him." 
 
 The door ,was opened, and Haindn stole into the 
 room. He began at once his usual dance, threw 
 up his legs into the air, rocked his shoulders, and 
 shouted 
 
 " Your Honour, I got no cigarettes. They said 
 that Lieutenant Skriabin gave orders that you were 
 not to have any more on credit." 
 
 " Oh, damn 1 You can go, Haindn. What am 
 I to do without cigarettes ? However, it is of no 
 consequence. You can go, Haindn.". 
 
 " What was it I 'was thinking of ? " Romashov 
 asked himself, when he was once more alone. He 
 had lost the threads, and, unaccustomed as he was 
 to think, he could not pick them up again at once. 
 " What was I thinking of just now? It was some- 
 thing important and interesting. Well, let us turn 
 back and take the questions in order. Also, I am 
 under arrest ; out in the street I see people at 
 large ; my mother tied me up with a thread me, 
 me. Yes, so it was. The soldier perhaps has an 
 Ego, perhaps even Colonel Shulgovich. Ha, he 1 
 now I remember ; go on. Here I am sitting in 
 my room. I am arrested, but my door is open. 
 I want to go out, but I dare not. Why do I not 
 dare? Have I committed any crime theft 
 murder ? No . All I did was merely omitting to 
 keep my heels together when I was talking to 
 another man. Possibly I was wrong. Yet, why? 
 Is it anything important? Is it the chief thing
 
 96 THE DUEL 
 
 in life? In about twenty or thirty years a second 
 in eternity my life, my Ego, will go out like a 
 lamp does when one turns the wick down. They 
 will light life the lamp afresh, over and over 
 again ; but my Ego is gone for ever. Likewise 
 this room, this sky, the regiment, the whole army, 
 all stars, this, dirty globe, my hands and feet all, 
 all shall be annihilated for ever. Yes, yes ; that 
 is so. Well, all right but wait a bit. I must 
 not be in too much of a hurry. I shall not be in 
 existence. Ah, wait. I found myself in infinite 
 darkness. Somebody came and lighted my life's 
 lamp, but almost immediately he blew it out again, 
 and once more I was in darkness, in the eternity of 
 eternities. What did I do? What did I utter 
 during this short moment of my existence? I held 
 my thumb on the seam of my trousers and my heels 
 together. I shrieked as loud as I could : ' Shoulder 
 arms I * and immediately afterwards I thundered 
 ' Use your butt ends, you donkeys I ' I trembled 
 before a hundred tyrants, now miserable ghosts 
 in eternity like my own remarkable, lofty Ego. 
 But why did I tremble before those ghosts 
 and why could they compel me to do such a lot 
 of unnecessary, idiotic, unpleasant things ? How 
 could they venture to annoy and insult my Ego 
 these miserable spectres ? " 
 
 Romashov sat down by the table, put his elbows 
 on it, and leaned his head on his hands. It was 
 hard work for him to keep in check these wild 
 thoughts which raced through his mind. 
 
 " H'm I my friend Romashov, what a lot you 
 have forgotten your fatherland, the ashes of your 
 sire, the altar of honour, the warrior's oath and dis- 
 cipline. Who shall preserve the land of your sires 
 when the foe rushes over its boundaries ? Ah I when
 
 THE DUEL 97 
 
 I am dead there will be no more fatherland, no 
 enemy, no honour. They will disappear at the same 
 time as my consciousness. But if all this be buried 
 and brought to naught country, enemies, honour, 
 and all the other big words what has all this to 
 do with my Ego ? I am more important than all 
 these phrases about duty, honour, love, etc. Assume 
 that I am a soldier and my Ego suddenly says, 
 ' I won't fight,' and not only my own Ego, but 
 millions of other Egos that constitute the whole of 
 the army, the whole of Russia, the entire world ; all 
 these say, ' We won't 1 ' Then it will be all over 
 so far as war is concerned, and never again will 
 any one have to hear such absurdities as ' Open 
 order,' ' Shoulder arms,' and all the rest of that 
 nonsense. 
 
 " Well, well, well. It must be so some day," 
 shouted an exultant voice in Romashov. " All that 
 talk about ' warlike deeds, 1 ' discipline,' ' honour of 
 the uniform, 1 ' respect for superiors,' and, first and 
 last, the whole science of war exists only because 
 humanity will not, or cannot, or dare not, say, ' I 
 won't.' " 
 
 " What do you suppose all this cunningly reared 
 edifice that is called the profession of arms really 
 is? Nothing, humbug, a house hanging in mid- 
 air, which will tumble down directly mankind pro- 
 nounces three short words : ' I will not.' My Ego 
 will never say, ' I will not eat,' ' I will not breathe,' 
 ' I will not see.' But if any one proposes to my 
 Ego that it shall die, it infallibly replies : ' I will 
 not.' What, then, is war with all its hecatombs of 
 dead and the science of war, which teaches us the 
 best methods of murdering? Why, a universal 
 madness, an illusion. But wait. Perhaps I am 
 mistaken. No, I cannot be mistaken, for this ' \ 
 
 7
 
 98 THE DUEL 
 
 will not l is so simple, so natural, that everybody 
 must, in the end, say it. Let us, however, examine 
 the matter more closely. Let us suppose that this 
 thought is pronounced this very moment by all 
 Russians, Germans, Englishmen, and Japanese. 
 Ah, well, what would be the consequence? Why, 
 that war would cease for ever, and the officers and 
 soldiers would go, every man, to his home. And 
 what would happen after that ? I know : Shulgovich 
 would answer ; Shulgovich would immediately get 
 querulous and say : ' Now we are done for ; they 
 can attack us now whenever they please, take away 
 our hearths and homes, trample down our fields, 
 and carry off our wives and sisters.' And what 
 about rioters, socialists, revolutionaries ? But when 
 the whole of mankind without exception has shouted : 
 ' We will no longer tolerate bloodshed/ who will 
 then dare to assail us ? No one ! All enemies 
 would be reconciled, submit to each other, forgive 
 everything, and justly divide among themselves the 
 abundance of the earth. Gracious God, when shall 
 this dream be fulfilled? " 
 
 Whilst Romashov was indulging in these fancies, 
 he failed to notice that Hainan had quietly stolen 
 in behind his back and suddenly stretched his arm 
 over his shoulder. Romashov started in terror, and 
 roared out angrily 
 
 " What the devil do you want? " 
 
 Hainan laid before him on the table a cinnamon - 
 coloured packet. " This is for you," he replied in 
 a friendly, familiar tone, and Romashov felt behind 
 him his servant's 'jovial smile. " They are cigarettes ; 
 smoke now." 
 
 Romashov looked at the packet. On it was 
 printed, " The Trumpeter, First-class Cigarettes. 
 Price 3 kopecks for 20."
 
 THE DUEL 99 
 
 "What does this mean? " he asked in astonish- 
 ment. " Where did this come from? " 
 
 " I saw that you had no cigarettes, so I bought 
 these with my own money. Please, smoke them. 
 It is nothing. Just a little present." 
 
 After this, to conceal his confusion, Hainan ran 
 headlong to the door, which he slammed after him 
 with a deafening bang. Romashov lighted a 
 cigarette, and the room was soon filled with a 
 perfume that strongly reminded one of melted 
 sealing-wax and burnt feathers. 
 
 " Oh, you dear ! " thought Romashov, deeply 
 moved. " I get cross with you and scold you and 
 make you pull off my muddy boots every evening, 
 and yet you go and buy me cigarettes with your 
 few last coppers. ' Please smoke them.' What 
 made you do it ? " 
 
 Again he got up and walked up and down the 
 room with his hands behind him. 
 
 " Our company consists of at least a hundred 
 men, and each of them is a creature with thoughts, 
 feelings, experience of life, personal sympathies and 
 antipathies. Do I know anything about them? No, 
 nothing, except their faces. I see them before me 
 as they stand in line every day, drawn up from 
 right to left : Soltyss, Riaboschapka, Yegoroff, 
 Yaschtschischin, etc., etc. mere sorry, grey figures. 
 What have I done to bring my soul nearer to their 
 souls, my Ego to theirs ? Nothing." 
 
 He involuntarily called to mind a rough night at 
 the end of autumn, when (as was his custom) he 
 was sitting drinking in the mess-room with a few 
 comrades. Suddenly the pay-sergeant Goumeniuk, 
 of the 9th Company, rushed into the room,, and 
 breathlessly, called to his commander 
 
 " Your Excellency, the recruits are here."
 
 ioo THE DUEL 
 
 Yes, there they stood in the rain, in the barrack- 
 yard, driven together like a herd of frightened 
 animals without any will of their own, which with 
 cowed, suspicious glances gazed at their tormentors. 
 " Each individual," thought Romashov, as he slowly 
 and carefully inspected their appearance, " has his 
 own characteristic expression of countenance. This 
 one, for instance, is most certainly a smith ; that is, 
 doubtless, a jolly chap who plays his accordion with 
 some talent.; that one with the shrewd features can 
 both read and write, and looks as if he were a 
 polevoi." I And one felt that these poor recruits 
 who, a few days ago, had been violently seized 
 whilst their wives and children were crying iand 
 lamenting, had tried, with tears in their voices, to 
 join in the coarse songs of their wild, drunken 
 brothers in misfortune. But a year later they stood 
 like soldiers in long rigid rows grey, sluggish, 
 apathetic figures, all cast, as it were, in the same 
 mould. But they never left their homes of their own 
 free will. Their Ego resented it. And yet they 
 went. .Why all this inconsistency? How can one 
 not help thinking of that old and well-known story 
 about the cock who fought desperately with his 
 wings and resisted to the uttermost when his beak 
 was pressed against a table, but who stood motion- 
 less, hypnotized, when some one drew a thick line 
 with a piece of chalk across the table from the tip 
 of his beak. 
 
 Romashov threw himself on the bed. 
 
 " What is there left for you to do under the 
 circumstances? " he asked himself in bitter mockery. 
 "Do you think of resigning? But, in that case, 
 where do you think of going? What does the sum 
 of knowledge amount to that you have learnt at the 
 1 Professional floor-polisher.
 
 XT1S3 
 
 THE DUEL 101 
 
 infants' school, the Cadet School, at the Military 
 Academy, at mess? Have you tried the struggle 
 and seriousness of life ? No, you have been looked 
 after and your wants supplied, as if you were a 
 little child, and you think perhaps, like a certain 
 schoolgirl, that rolls grow on trees. Go out into 
 the world and try. At the very first step you would 
 slip and fall ; people would trample you in the dust, 
 and you would drown your misery in drink. And 
 besides, have you ever heard of an officer leaving 
 the service of his own free will? No, never. Just 
 because he is unfit for anything he will not give up 
 his rneagre bread-and-butter. And if any one is 
 forced into doing this, you will soon see him wearing 
 a greasy old regimental cap, and accepting alms 
 from people in the street. I am a Russian officer 
 of gentle birth, comprenez-vous? Alas, where shall 
 I go what will become of me? " 
 
 " Prisoner, prisoner 1 " cried a clear female voice 
 beneath the window. 
 
 Romashov jumped up from his bed and rushed 
 to the window. Opposite him stood Shurochka. 
 She was protecting her eyes from the sun with the 
 palm of her hand, and pressing her rosy face 
 against the window pane, exclaiming in a mocking 
 tone : 
 
 " Oh, 'give a poor beggar a copper ! " 
 
 Romashov fumbled at the window- catch in wild 
 eagerness to open it, but he remembered in the same 
 moment that the inner window had not been re- 
 moved. With joyous resolution he seized the 
 window-frame with both hands, and dragged it to 
 him with a tremendous tug. A loud noise was 
 heard, and the whole window fell into the room, 
 besprinkling Romashov with bits of lime and pieces 
 of dried putty. The outer window flew up, and a
 
 102 THE DUEL 
 
 stream of fresh air, Charged with joy and the perfume 
 of flowers, forced its way into the room. 
 
 " Ha, at last I Now I'll go out, cost what it may," 
 shouted Romashov in a jubilant voice. 
 
 " Romashov, you mad creature I what are you 
 doing? " 
 
 i outstretched hand through the 
 window,-; it was closely covered by a cinnamon- 
 color, .ve. and he he,u;m boldly to ki- 
 first upwards and downwards, arid after that from 
 the finger-tips to the wrist. Last of all, he kissed 
 the hole in the glove just below ,the buttons. He 
 was astonished at his boldness ; never before had 
 he ventured to do this. Shurochka submitted 
 as though unconscious to this passionate burst of 
 affection, and smilingly accepted his kisses whilst 
 gazing at him in shy wonderment. 
 
 "Alexandra Petrovna, you are an angel. How 
 shall I ever be able to thank you? " 
 
 "Gracious, Romochka 1 what has come to you? 
 And why are you so happy? " she asked laughingly 
 as she eyed Romashov with persistent curiosity. 
 " But wait, rny poor prisoner, I have brought you 
 from home a splendid kaldtsch and the most de- 
 licious apple puffs." 
 
 " Stepan, bring the basket here." 
 
 He looked at her with devotion in his eyes, and 
 without letting go her hand, which she allowed to 
 remain unresistingly in his, he said hurriedly 
 
 " Oh, if you knew all I have been thinking about 
 this morning if you only knew I But of this, later 
 on." 
 
 " Yes, later on. Look, here comes my lord and 
 master. Let go my hand. How strange you look 
 to-day I I even think you have grown handsome." 
 
 Nikolaiev now came up to the window. He
 
 THE DUEL 103 
 
 frowned, and greeted Romashov in a rather cool 
 and reserved way. 
 
 " Come, Shurochka," he said to his wife, " what 
 in the world are you thinking about? You must 
 both be mad. Only think, if the Commander were 
 to see us. Good-bye, Romashov ; come and see us." 
 
 " Yes, come and see us, Yuri Alexievich," re- 
 peated Shurochka. She left the window, bu,t 
 returned almost at once and whispered rapidly to 
 Romashov. " Don't forget us. You are the only 
 man here whom I can associate with as a friend 
 do you hear? And another thing. Once for all I 
 forbid you to look at me with such sheep's eyes, 
 remember that. Besides, you have no right to 
 imagine anything. You are not a coxcomb yet, you 
 know."
 
 'VII 
 
 AT 3.30 p.m. Lieutenant Federovski, the Adjutant 
 of the regiment, drove up to Romashov's house. 
 He was a tall, stately, and (as the ladies of the 
 regiment used to say) presentable young man, with 
 freezingly cold eyes and an enormous moustache 
 that almost grazed his shoulder. Towards the 
 younger officers he was always excessively polite, 
 but, at the same time, officially correct in his 
 conduct. He was not familiar with any one, and had 
 a very high opinion of himself and his position. 
 Nearly all the captains flattered and paid court to 
 him. 
 
 As he entered the door, he rapidly scanned with 
 his blinking eyes the whole of the scanty furniture 
 in Romashov's room. The latter, who lay resting 
 on his bed, jumped off, and, blushing, began to 
 button up his undress tunic. 
 
 " I am here by orders of the commander, who 
 wishes to speak to you," said Federovski in a dry 
 tone. " Be good enough to dress and accompany 
 me as soon as possible." 
 
 " I shall be ready at once. Shall I put on undress 
 or parade uniform? " 
 
 " Don't, please, stand on ceremony. A frock-coat, 
 if you like, that would be quite sufficient. Mean- 
 while, with your permission, I will take a seat." 
 
 " Oh, I beg your pardon will you have some 
 
 tea? " said Romashov fussily. 
 
 104
 
 THE DUEL 105 
 
 " No, thanks. My time is short, and I must ask 
 you to be as quick as possible about changing your 
 clothes." 
 
 And without taking off his cloak or gloves, he 
 sat down whilst Romashov changed his clothes in 
 nervous haste and with painful glances at his not 
 particularly clean shirt. Federovski sat the whole 
 time with his hands resting on the hilt of his sabre, 
 as motionless as a stone image. 
 
 " I suppose you do not happen to know why I 
 am sent for? " 
 
 The Adjutant shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " A singular question ! How should I know? 
 You ought to know the reason better than I. But if 
 I may give you a bit of friendly advice, put the 
 sabre -belt under not over the shoulder strap. 
 The Colonel is, as you ar.e aware, particular about 
 such matters. And now, if you please, we will 
 start." 
 
 Before the steps stood a common caleche, attached 
 to which were a couple of high, lean army horses. 
 Romashov was polite enough to encroach as little 
 as possible on the narrow seat, so as not to cause 
 his attendant any discomfort, but the latter did not, 
 so it seemed, take the slightest notice of that. On 
 the way they ri\et Viatkin ; the latter exchanged 
 a chilly and correct salute with the Adjutant, but 
 honoured Romashov, who for a second turned round, 
 with a comic but enigmatical gesture that might 
 probably mean : " Ah, poor fellow, you are on your 
 way to Pontius Pilate." They met other officers, 
 some of whom regarded Romashov with a sort of 
 solemn interest, others with unfeigned astonishment, 
 and some bestowed on him only a derisive smile. 
 Romashov tried to avoid their glances and felt him- 
 self shrinking beneath them.
 
 io6 THE DUEL 
 
 The Colonel did not receive him at once. He had 
 some one in his private room. Romashov had to 
 wait in a half -dark hall that smelt of apples, 
 naphtha, newly-polished furniture and, besides that, 
 of something which not at all unpleasantly reminded 
 him of the odour which seems particularly insepar- 
 able from clothes and furniture in well-to-do German 
 families that are pedantically careful about their 
 goods and chattels. 
 
 As he walked slowly up and down the hall, he 
 glanced at himself several times in a mirror in a 
 light ashwood frame which was fixed to, the wall ; 
 and each time he looked his face struck him as 
 being unhealthily pale, ugly, and queer. His 
 uniform, too, was shabby, and his epaulettes soiled. 
 
 Out in the hall might be heard the incessant 
 rumbling of the Colonel's deep bass voice. The 
 words themselves could not be distinguished, but 
 the ferocious tone told the tale clearly enough that 
 Colonel Shulgovich was scolding some one with 
 implacable and sustained rage. This went on for 
 about five minutes ; after which Schulgovich 
 suddenly became silent, a trembling, supplicating 
 voice succeeded his, and, after a moment's pause, 
 Romashov clearly heard the following frightful 
 tirade uttered with a terrible accent of pride, indig- 
 nation, and contempt : 
 
 " What nonsense is it that you dare to talk about 
 your wife and your children? What the devil have 
 I to do with them? Before you brought your 
 children into the world you ought to have considered 
 how you could manage to feed them. What? So 
 now you are trying to throw the blame on your 
 Colonel, are you? But it has nothing to do with 
 him. You know too well, Captain, that if I do 
 not deliver you into the hands of justice I shall
 
 THE DUEL 107 
 
 fail in my duty as your commander. Be good 
 enough not to interrupt me. Here there is no 
 question of an offence against discipline, but a 
 glaring crime, and your place henceforward will 
 certainly not be in the regiment, but you yourself 
 best know where." Again he heard that miserable, 
 beseeching \ pitiful that it did not sound 
 
 human. 
 
 1. ! what is it all aboui ? " thou h 
 Romashov. who, as it he were glued to the looking- 
 glass, gazed at his pale face without seeing it, and 
 felt his heart throbbing painfully. " Good Lord ! 
 how horrible ! " 
 
 The plaintive, beseeching voice again replied, and 
 spoke at some length. When it ceased, the Colonel's 
 deep bass began thundering, but now evidently a 
 trifle more calmly and gently than before, as if 
 his rage had spent itself, and his desire to witness 
 the humiliation of another were satisfied. 
 
 Shulgovich said abruptly : " Engrave it for ever 
 on your red nose. All right ! But this is the last 
 time. Remember now 1 The last time ! Do you 
 (hear? If it ever comes to my ears that you have 
 been drunk, the silence ! I know what you intend 
 to say, but I won't hear any more of your promises. 
 In a week's time I shall inspect your company. 
 You understand? And as to the troops' pay, that 
 matter must be settled to-morrow. You hear? To- 
 morrow. And now I shall not detain you longer, 
 Captain. I have the honour 
 
 The last words were interrupted by a scraping 
 on the floor, and a few tottering steps towards the 
 door ; but, suddenly, the Colonel's voice was again 
 heard, though this time its wrathful and violent 
 tone did not sound quite natural. 
 
 " Wait a moment ! Come here, you devil's 'pepper-
 
 io8 THE DUEL 
 
 box 1 Where are you off to? To the Jews, of 
 course to get a bill signed. Ah, you fool you 
 blockhead ! Here you are ! One, two, three, four 
 three hundred. I can't do more. Take them 
 and be off with you. Pay me back when you can. 
 What a mess you have made of things, Captain ! 
 Now be off with you ! Go to the devil your servant, 
 sir ! '' 
 
 The door sprang open, and into the hall staggered 
 little Captain Sviatovidov, red and perspiring, with 
 harassed, nay, ravaged, features. His right hand 
 grasped convulsively his new, rustling bundle of 
 banknotes. He made a sort of pirouette directly he 
 recognized Romashov, tried, but failed miserably in 
 the attempt, to assume a sportive, free-and-easy 
 look, and clutched tight hold of Romashov's fingers 
 with his hot, moist, trembling hand. His wandering, 
 furtive glances rested at last on Romashov as if he 
 would ask the question : " Have you heard anything 
 or have you not? " 
 
 " He's a tiger, a bloodhound 1 " he whispered, 
 pointing to the door of the Colonel's room ; " but 
 what the deuce does it matter ? " Sviatovidov twice 
 crossed himself quickly. ' The Lord be praised ! 
 the Lord be praised I " 
 
 " Bon-da-ren-ko ! " roared Shulgovich from his 
 room, and his powerful voice that moment filled 
 every nook and corner of the house. " Bondarenko, 
 who is out there still? Bring him in." 
 
 " Hold your own, my young lion," whispered 
 Sviatovidov with a false smile. " Au revoir, Lieu- 
 tenant. Hope you'll have a good time." 
 
 Bondarenko glided through the door. He was 
 a typical Colonel's servant, with an impudently con- 
 descending look, hair pomaded and parted in the 
 middle, dandified, with white gloves. He addressed
 
 THE DUEL 109 
 
 Romashov in a respectful tone, but eyed him, at the 
 same time, in a very bold way. 
 
 " His Excellency begs your Honour to step in." 
 
 He opened the door and stepped aside. Romas- 
 hov walked in. 
 
 Colonel Shulgovich sat at a table in a corner of 
 the room, to the left of the door. He was wearing 
 his fatigue tunic, under which appeared his gleam- 
 ing white shirt. His red, sinewy hands rested on 
 the arm of his easy chair. His unnaturally big, old 
 face, with short tufts of hair on the top of his head, 
 and the white pointed beard, gave an impression of 
 a certain hardness and coldness. The bright colour- 
 less eyes gleamed almost aggressively at the visitor, 
 whose salutation .was returned with a brief nod. 
 Romashov at that moment noticed a crescent- 
 shaped ring in the Colonel's ear, and thought 
 to himself : " Strange that I never saw that, ring 
 before." 
 
 " This is very serious," began Shulgovich, in 
 a gruff bass that seemed to proceed from the depths 
 of his diaphragm, after which he made a long pause. 
 " Shame on you ! '" he continued in a raised voice. 
 " Because you've served a year all but one week you 
 begin to put on airs. Besides this, I have many 
 other reasons to be annoyed with you. For 
 instance : I come to the parade-ground and make 
 a justifiable remark about you. At once you are 
 ready to answer your commanding officer in a silly, 
 insolent manner. Can that be called military tact 
 and discipline? No. Such a thing is incredible, 
 and you ought to be ashamed of yourself." The 
 latter words were roared by Shulgovich with such 
 deafening violence that his victim felt a tremor under 
 his knee-cap. 
 
 Romashov looked gloomily away, and no power
 
 no THE DUEL 
 
 in the world, thought he, should induce him to look 
 at the Colonel straight in his basilisk face. 
 
 "Where's my Ego now?" he asked himself 
 ironically. " Here the only thing to do is to suffer, 
 keep silent, and stand at attention." 
 
 " It does not matter now how I obtained my 
 information about you. It is quite sufficient I know 
 all your sins. You drink. You, a mere boy a callow 
 creature that has but lately left school swig 
 schnapps like a cobbler's apprentice. Hold your 
 tongue, don't try to defend yourself, I know every- 
 thing and much more than you think. Well, 
 God forbid ! if you are bent on going down the 
 broad path you are welcome to do it, so far as I'm 
 concerned. Still, J'll give you a warning : drink has 
 made more than one of your sort acquainted with 
 the inside .of a prison. Lay these words of mine to 
 heart. My long-suffering is great, but even an 
 angel's patience can be exhausted. The officers of 
 a regiment are mutually related as members of one 
 family ; but .don't forget that an unworthy member 
 who tarnishes the honour of the family is ruthlessly 
 cast out.*' 
 
 " Here I ^stand paralysed with fright, and my 
 tongue is numbed," thought RJomashov, as he stared, 
 as though hypnotized, at the little silver ring in the 
 Colonel's ear. " At this moment I ought to tell him 
 straight out that I do not in the least degree value 
 the honour pf belonging to this worthy family, and 
 that I shall be delighted to leave it to enter the 
 reserves ; but have I the courage to say so ? *' His 
 lips moved, he found a difficulty in swallowing, 
 but he stood still, as he had throughout the inter- 
 view, t 
 
 " But let us," continued Shulgovich in the same 
 harsh tone, " examine more closely your conduct in
 
 THE DUEL 1 1 1 
 
 the past. In the previous year practically as soon 
 as you entered the service, you requested leave on 
 account of your mother's illness, nay, you even pro- 
 duced a .sort of letter about it. Well, in such cases 
 an officer .cannot, you know, openly express his 
 doubts as to the truth of a comrade's word. But I 
 take this opportunity of telling you in private that 
 I had my own opinion then about tha.t story. You 
 understand? " 
 
 Romashov had for a long time felt a tremor in 
 his right knee. This tremor was at first very slight, 
 in fact scarcely noticeable, but it very soon assumed 
 alarming proportions, and finally extended over the 
 whole of his body. This feeling grew very painful 
 at the thought that Shulgovich might possibly re- 
 gard his nervousness as proceeding from fear ; but 
 when his mother's name was mentioned, a consuming 
 heat coursed through Romashov's veins, and his 
 intense nervous tremor ceased immediately. For 
 the first time during all this painful scene he raised 
 his eyes to his torturer and looked him defiantly 
 straight in the face. And in this look glittered a 
 hatred, menace, and imperious lust of vengeance from 
 the insulted man, so intense and void of all fear that 
 the illimitable distance between the omnipotent 
 commander and the insignificant sub -lieutenant, who 
 had no rights at all, was absolutely annihilated. A 
 mist arose before Romashov's eyes, the various ob- 
 jects in the room lost their shape, and the Colonel's 
 gruff voice sounded to him as if from a deep abyss. 
 Then there suddenly came a moment of darkness 
 and ominous silence, devoid of thoughts, will, or 
 external perception, nay, even without consciousness. 
 He experienced only a horrible certainty that, in 
 another moment, something terrible and maniacal, 
 something irretrievably disastrous, would happen.
 
 H2 THE DUEL 
 
 A strange, unfamiliar voice whispered in his ear : 
 '' Next moment I will kill him," and Romashov was 
 slowly but irresistibly forced to fix his eyes on the 
 Colonel's bald head. 
 
 Afterwards, as if in a dream, he became aware, 
 although he could not understand the reason, of 
 a curious change in his enemy's eyes, which, in 
 rapid succession, reflected wonder, dread, helpless- 
 ness, and pity. The wave of destruction that had 
 just whelmed through Romashov 's soul, by the 
 violence of natural force, subsided, sank, and disap- 
 peared in space. He tottered, and now everything 
 appeared to him commonplace and uninteresting. 
 Shulgovich, in nervous haste, placed a chair before 
 him, and said, with unexpected but somewhat rough 
 kindness 
 
 " The Devil take you ! what a touchy fellow 
 you are ! Sit down and be damned to you ! But 
 you are all alike. You look at me as if I were a 
 wild beast. ' The old fossil goes for us without 
 rhyme or reason.' And all the time God knows I 
 love you as if you were my own children. Do you 
 think I have nothing to put up with, either ? Ah, 
 gentlemen, how little you know me 1 It is true 
 I scold you occasionally, but, damn it all ! an old 
 fellow has a right to be angry sometimes. Oh, you 
 youngsters ! Well, let us make peace. Give me 
 your hand and come to dinner." 
 
 Romashov bowed without uttering a syllable, 
 and pressed the coarse, cold, hairy hand. His recol- 
 lection of the past insult to some extent faded, 
 but his heart was none the lighter for this. He 
 remembered his proud, inflated fancies of that very 
 morning, and he now felt like a little pale, pitiful 
 schoolboy, like a shy, abandoned, scarcely tolerated 
 brat, and he thought of all this with shame and
 
 THE DU.EL Ira- 
 
 mortification. Also, whilst accompanying Shulgo- 
 vich to the dining-room, he could not help address- 
 ing himself, as his habit was, in the third person 
 
 " And a shadow rested on his brow." 
 
 Shulgovich was childless. In the dining-room, 
 his wife a fat, coarse, self-important and silent 
 woman awaited him. She had not a vestige of 
 neck, but displayed a whole row of chins. Not- 
 withstanding her pince-nez and her scornful mien, 
 there was a certain air of vulgarity about her 
 countenance, which gave the impression of its being 
 formed, at the last minute, hurriedly and negligently, 
 out of dough, with raisins or currants instead of 
 eyes. Behind her waddled, dragging her feet, the 
 Colonel's old mother a little deaf, but still an active, 
 domineering, venomous old hag. While she closely 
 and rudely examined Romashov over her spectacles, 
 she clawed hold of his fingers and coolly pressed 
 to his lips her black, shrivelled, bony hand, that 
 reminded one most of an anatomical specimen. 
 This done, she turned to the Colonel and asked 
 him, just as if they had been absolutely alone in the 
 dining-room! 
 
 " Who is this ? I don't remember seeing him 
 here before? " 
 
 Shulgovich formed his hands into a sort of 
 speaking-tube, and bawled into the old woman's 
 ear : 
 
 " Sub -lieutenant Romashov, mamma. A capital 
 officer, a smart fellow, and an ornament to his regi- 
 ment comes from the Cadet School. By the way, 
 Sub-lieutenant," he exclaimed abruptly, " we are 
 certainly from the same province. Aren't you from 
 Pevsa ? " * 
 
 "Yes, Colonel, I was born in Pevsa." 
 
 1 A town and " government " in East Russia. 
 8
 
 H4 THE DUEL 
 
 " To be sure, to be sure ; nowl I remember. You 
 are from the Narovtschdtski district? " 
 
 " Quite right, Colonel." 
 
 " Ah, yes how could I have forgotten it ! 
 Mamma," he again trumpeted into his mother's ear, 
 " mamma, Sub -lieutenant Romashov is from our 
 province ; he's from Narovtschdtski." 
 
 " Ah, ah," and the old woman raised her eye- 
 brows as a sign that she understood. "Well, then, 
 you're, of course, a son of Sergei Petrovich 
 Shishkin?" : 
 
 " No, dear mother," roared the Colonel, " you are 
 wrong. His name is Romashov, not Shishkin." 
 
 ' Yes, didn't I say so ? I never knew Sergei 
 Petrovich except by hearsay ; but I often met 
 Peter Petrovich. He was a charming 1 young man. 
 We were near neighbours, and I congratulate you, 
 my young friend, on your relationship." 
 
 " Well, as you will have it, you old deaf -as -a- 
 post," exclaimed the Colonel, interrupting her with 
 good-humoured cynicism. " But now, let's sit 
 down ; please take a seat, Sub -lieutenant. Lieu- 
 tenant Federovski," he shrieked towards the door, 
 " stop your work and come and have a schnapps." 
 The Adjutant, who, according to the custom in many 
 regiments, dined every day with his chief, hurriedly 
 entered the dining-room. He clicked his spurs 
 softly and discreetly, walked straight up to the little 
 majolica table with the sakuska, 1 calmly helped him- 
 self to a schnapps, and ate with extreme calmness 
 and enjoyment. Romashov noticed all that with 
 an absurd, envious feeling 1 of admiration. 
 
 "You'll take one, won't you?" said Shulgovich 
 to Romashov, " You're no teetotaller, you know." 
 
 1 Corresponds to the Swedish smorgasbord, and consists of a 
 number of cold dishes and delicacies.
 
 THE DUEL 115 
 
 " No, thank you very much," replied Romashov 
 hoarsely ; and, with a slight cough, "I do not 
 usually " 
 
 " Bravo, my young friend. Stick to that in 
 future." 
 
 They sat down to table. The dinner was good 
 and abundant. Any one could observe that, in 
 this childless family, both host and hostess had 
 an innocent little weakness for good living. Dinner 
 consisted of chicken soup with vegetables, roast 
 bream with kascha, 1 a splendid fat duck and aspara- 
 gus. On the table stood three remarkable decanters 
 containing red wine, white wine, and madeira, 
 resplendent with embossed silver stoppers bearing 
 elegant foreign marks. The Colonel, whose violent 
 explosion of wrath but a short time previously had 
 evidently given him an excellent appetite, ate with 
 an elegance and taste that struck the spectator with 
 pleasure and surprise. He joked all the time with a 
 certain rough humour. When the asparagus was 
 put on the table, he crammed a corner of his 
 dazzlingly white serviette well down under his chin, 
 and exclaimed in a lively way 
 
 "If I were the Tsar, I would eat asparagus 
 every day of my life." 
 
 v Only once, at the fish course, he fell into his 
 usual domineering tone, and shouted almost harshly 
 to Romashov 
 
 " Sub -lieutenant, be good enough to put your 
 knife down. Fish and cutlets are eaten only with 
 a fork. An officer must know how to eat properly >; 
 he may, at any time, you know, be invited to 
 the palace. Don't forget that." 
 
 1 A national dish in Russia, consisting of a sort of buckwheat 
 porridge baked in the oven in fire-proof earthen vessels, which are 
 put on the table.
 
 n6 THE DUEL 
 
 Romashov was uncomfortable and constrained the 
 whole time. He did not know wha,t to do with 
 his hands, which, for the most part, he kept under 
 the table plaiting the fringe of the tablecloth. He 
 had long got out of the habit of observing what 
 was regarded as " good form " in an elegant and 
 wealthy house. And, during the whole time he was 
 at table, one sole thought tortured him : '* How 
 disagreeable this is, and what weakness and 
 cowardice on my part not to have the courage to 
 refuse this humiliating invitation to dinner. Now 
 I shall not stand this any longer. Til get up 
 and bow to the company, and go my way. They 
 may think what they please about it. They can 
 hardly eat me up for that nor rob me of my 
 soul, my thoughts, my consciousness. Shall I 
 go? " And again he was obliged to acknowledge 
 to himself, with a heart overflowing with pain 
 and indignation, that he lacked the moral 
 courage necessary to assert his individuality and 
 self-respect. 
 
 Twilight was falling when at last coffee was 
 served. The red, slanting beams of the setting 
 sun filtered in through the window blinds, iand 
 sportively cast little copper -coloured spots or rays 
 on the dark furniture, on the white tablecloth, and 
 the clothes and countenances of those present. Con- 
 versation gradually languished. All sat silent, as 
 though hypnotized by the mystic mood of the dying 
 day. 
 
 " When I was an ensign," said Shulgovich, 
 breaking the silence, " we had for the chief of our 
 brigade a General named Fofanov. He was just 
 one of those gentle and simple old fogies who 
 had risen from the ranks during a time of war, 
 and, as I believe, belonged at the start to what
 
 THE DUEL 117 
 
 we call Kantonists. 1 I remember how at reviews 
 he always went straight up to the big drum! he 
 was insanely enamoured of that instrument and said 
 to the drummer, ' Come, come, my friend, play me 
 something really melancholy.' This same General 
 had also the habit of going to bed directly the 
 clock struck eleven. When the clock was just on 
 the stroke of the hour, he invariably said to his 
 guests, ' Well, well, gentlemen, eat, drink, and enjoy 
 yourselves, but I'm going to throw myself into the 
 arms of Neptune.' Somebody once remarked, 
 ' Your Excellency, you mean the arms of Morpheus ? ' 
 ' Oh, that's the same thing 1 . They both belong to 
 the same mineralogy.' Well, that's just what I am 
 going to do, gentlemen.'* 
 
 Shulgovich got up and placed his serviette on 
 the arm of his chair. " I, too, am going to throw 
 myself into the arms of Neptune. I release you, 
 gentlemen." 1 
 
 Both officers got up and stretched themselves. 
 " A bitter, ironical smile played on his thin lips," 
 thought Romashov about himself only thought, 
 however, for at that moment his countenance was 
 pale, wretched, and by no means prepossessing to 
 look at. 
 
 Once more Romashov was on his way home, and 
 once more he felt himself lonely, abandoned, and 
 helpless in this gloomy and hostile place. Once 
 more the sun flamed in the west, amidst heavy, 
 dark blue thunder-clouds, and once more before 
 Romashov's eyes, in the distance, behind houses 
 and fields, at the verge of the horizon, there loomed 
 a fantastic fairy city beckoning to him with promises 
 of marvellous beauty and happiness. 
 
 1 In the time of Nicholas, sons of soldiers quartered or garrisoned 
 in certain districts. They were liable to be called on to serve.
 
 n8 THE DUEL 
 
 The darkness fell suddenly between the rows of 
 houses. A few little Jewish children ran, squealing, 
 along the path. Here and there in doorways, in the 
 embrasures of windows, and in the dusk of gardens 
 there were sounds of women's laughter, provoca- 
 tive and unintermittent, and with a quiver of warm 
 animalistic gladness which is heard only when spring 
 is near. With the deep yet calm melancholy that 
 now lay heavy on Romashov's heart there were 
 mingled strange, dim memories of a bliss miraged 
 but never enjoyed in youth's still lovelier spring, 
 and there arose in his heart a delicious presentiment 
 of a strong, invincible love that at last gained 
 its object. 
 
 When Romashov reached his abode he found 
 Haindn in his dark and dirty cupboard in front of 
 Pushkin's bust. The great bard was smeared all 
 over with grease, and before him burning candles 
 cast bright blurs on the statue's nose, its thick lips 
 and muscular neck. Hainan sat, in the Turkish 
 style, cross-legged on the three boards that con- 
 stituted his bed, rocked his body to and fro, and 
 mumbled out in a sing-song tone something weird, 
 melancholy, and monotonous. 
 
 " Hainan," shouted Romashov. 
 
 The servant started, jumped up, and stood at 
 attention. Fear and embarrassment were displayed 
 on his countenance . 
 
 "Allah?" asked Romashov in the most friendly 
 way. 
 
 The Circassian's shaven boyish mouth expanded 
 in a broad grin which showed his beautiful white 
 teeth in the candle-light. 
 
 " Allah, your Honour." 
 
 "It is all the same, Haindn. Allah is in you. 
 Allah is in me. There is one Allah for us all,"
 
 THE D.UEL 1 1.9 
 
 " My excellent Hainan," thought Romashov to 
 himself as he went into his room. " And I dare 
 not shake hands with him. Dare not ! Damn it 
 all I from to-day I will dress and undress myself. 
 It's a disgrace that some one else should do it 
 for me." 
 
 That evening he did not go to the mess-room, 
 but stayed at home and brought out of a drawer a 
 thick, ruled book, nearly entirely filled with elegant, 
 irregular handwriting. He wrote far into the night. 
 It was the third in order of Romashov 's novels, 
 and its title ran : A Fatal Beginning. 
 
 But our lieutenant blushed furiously at his literary 
 efforts, and he would not have been induced for 
 anything in the world to acknowledge his 
 authorship .
 
 VIII 
 
 BARRACKS had just begtun to be built for the 
 garrison troops on what was called the " Cattle 
 Square," outside the town, on the other side of 
 the railway. Meanwhile the companies were 
 quartered here and there in the town. The officers' 
 mess-room was situated in a rather small house. 
 The drawing-room and ballroom had their windows 
 over the street. The other rooms, the windows of 
 which overlooked a dark, dirty backyard, were 
 set apart for kitchen, dining-room, billiard -room, 
 guest-chamber, and ladies' -room. A long narrow 
 corridor with doors to all the rooms in the house 
 ran the whole length of the building. In the rooms 
 that were seldom used, and not often cleaned or 
 aired, a musty, sour smell greeted the visitor as he 
 entered. I ; j , J | 
 
 Romashov reached the mess at 9 p.m. Five or 
 six unmarried officers had already assembled for the 
 appointed soiree, but the Ladies had not yet arrived. 
 For some time past there had been a keen rivalry 
 amongst the latter to display their acquaintance with 
 the demands of fashion, according to which it was 
 incumbent on a lady with pretensions to elegance 
 scrupulously to avoid being among the first to reach 
 the ballroom. The musicians were already in their 
 places in a sort of gallery that was connected with 
 the room by means of a large window composed of 
 many panes of glass. Three-branched candelabra
 
 THE DUEL 121 
 
 on the pillars between the windows shed their 
 radiance^ and lamps were suspended from the roof. 
 The bright illumination on the scanty furniture, con- 
 sisting only of Viennese chairs, the bare walls, and 
 the common white muslin window- curtains, gave 
 the somewhat spacious room a very empty and' 
 deserted air. 
 
 In the billiard-room the two Adjutants of the 
 battalion, Biek-Agamalov and Olisar the only count 
 in the regiment were engaged in a game of 
 " Carolina." The stakes were only ale. Olisar 
 tall, gaunt, sleek, and pomaded an i" old, young 
 man " with wrinkled face and bald crown, scattered 
 freely billiard-room jests and slang*. Biek-Agama- 
 lov lost both his game and his temper inconsequence. 
 In the seat by the window sat Staff-Captain Liescht- 
 schenko a melancholy individual of forty-five, 
 an altogether miserable figure, the mere sight of 
 which could bore people to death watching the 
 game. His whole appearance gave the impression 
 of hopeless melancholy. Everything about him was 
 limp : his long, fleshy, wrinkled red nose ; his dim, 
 dark-brown thread-like moustache that reached down 
 below his chin. His eyebrows, which grew a good 
 way down to the bridge of his nose, made his eyes 
 look as if he were just about to weep, and his thin, 
 lean body with his sunken chest and sloping 
 shoulders looked like a clothes-horse in its worn 
 and shiny uniform. Lieschtschenko neither smoked, 
 drank, nor played ; but he found a strange pleasure 
 in looking at the cards from behind the players' 
 backs, and in following the movements of the balls 
 in the billiard-room. He likewise delighted in 
 listening, huddled up in a dining-room window, 
 to the row and vulgarities of the wildest idrinking- 
 bouts. He could thus sit, for hours at a time,
 
 122 THE DUEL 
 
 motionless as a stone statue, and without uttering 1 
 a single word. All the officers were so accustomed 
 to this that they almost regarded the silent 
 Lieschtschenko as one of the inevitable fixtures of 
 a normal gambling or drinking bout. 
 
 After saluting the three officers, Romashov sat 
 down by Lieschtschenko, who courteously made 
 room for him, as with a deep sigh he fixed his 
 sorrowful and friendly, dog-like eyes on him. 
 
 " How is Maria Viktorovna? " asked Romashov in 
 the careless and intentionally loud voice which is 
 generally employed in conversation with deaf or 
 rather stupid people, and which all the regiment 
 (including the ensigns) used when they happened to 
 address Lieschtschenko . 
 
 " Quite well, thanks," replied Lieschtschenko 
 with a still deeper sigh. " You understand her 
 nerves ; but, you know, at this time of year 
 
 "But why did she not come with you? But 
 perhaps Maria Viktorovna is not coming to the 
 soiree to-night ? " 
 
 "What do you mean? of course she's coming; 
 but you see, my dear fellow, there was no room for 
 me in the cab. She and Raisa Peterson took a 
 trap between them, and as you'll understand, my dear 
 fellow, they said to me, ' Don't come here with your 
 dirty, rough boots, they simply ruin our clothes.' ' 
 
 " Croisez in the middle a nice 'kiss.' Pick up 
 the ball, Biek," cried Olisar. 
 
 " I am not a lackey. Do you think I'll pick up 
 your balls?" replied Biek-Agamalov in a furious 
 tone. 
 
 Lieschtschenko caught in his mouth the tips of 
 his long moustaches, and thereupon began sucking 
 and chewing them with an extremely thoughtful and 
 troubled air.
 
 THE DUEL 123 
 
 " Yuri Alexievich, my dear fellow, I have a 
 favour to ask you," he blurted out at last in a shy 
 and deprecating tone. " You lead the dance to- 
 night, eh? " 
 
 " Yes, damn it all ! They have so arranged it 
 among themselves. I did try to get off it, kow- 
 towed to the Adjutant ah, pretty nearly reported 
 myself ill. 'In that case,' said he, 'you must be 
 good enough to hand in a medical certificate.' ' 
 
 " This is what I want you 'to do for me," 
 Lieschtschenko went on in the same humble voice. 
 " For God's sake see that she does not have to sit 
 out many dances." 
 
 " Maria Viktorovna ?" 
 
 ' Yes, please - n 
 
 " Double with the yellow in the corner," said 
 Biek-Agamalov, indicating the stroke he intended 
 to make. Being short, he often found billiards very 
 troublesome. To reach the ball now he was oblig'ed 
 to Me lengthways on the table. He became quite 
 red in the face through the effort, and two veins in 
 his forehead swelled to such an extent that they 
 converged at the top of his nose like the letter V. 1 
 
 " What a conjurer ! " said Olisar in a jeering, 
 ironical tone. " I could not do that." 
 
 Agamalov's cue touched the ball with a dry, 
 scraping sound. The ball did not move from jits 
 place . 
 
 " Miss 1 " cried Olisar jubilantly, as he danced a 
 cancan round the billiard table. " Do you snore 
 when you sleep, my pretty creature?" 
 
 Agamalov banged the thick end of his cue ion the 
 floor. 
 
 " If you ever again speak when I am making 1 a 
 
 1 An old Slavonic character (1'schiza), only occurring in the Russian 
 Bible and Ritual,
 
 124 THE DUEL 
 
 stroke," He roared, his black eyes 'glittering, " I'll 
 throw up the game." 
 
 " Don't, whatever you do, get excited. It's so 
 bad for your health. Now it's my turn." ; 
 
 Just at that moment in rushed one of the soldiers 
 stationed in the hall for the service of the ladies, 
 and came to attention in front of Romashov. : 
 
 " Your Honour, the ladies would like you to 
 come into the ballroom." 
 
 Three ladies who had just arrived were already 
 pacing up and down the ballroom. They were 
 none of them exactly young! ; the eldest of them, 
 the wife of the Club President Anna Ivanovna 
 Migunov turned to Romashov and exclaimed in 
 a prim, affected tone, drawling out the words and 
 tossing her head : 
 
 ** Sjub -lieutenant Rb^nashov, please order the 
 band to play something whilst we are waiting." 
 
 " With pleasure, ladies," replied Romashov with 
 a polite bow. He then went up to the orchestra and 
 called to the conductor, " Zisserman, play us some- 
 thing pretty." 
 
 The first thundering notes of the overture to 
 " Long live the Tsar " rolled through the open 
 windows of the music gallery across the ballroom, 
 and the flames of the candelabra vibrated to the 
 rhythm of the drum beats. 
 
 The ladies gradually assembled. A year ago, 
 Romashov had felt an indescribable pleasure in those 
 very minutes before the ball when, in accordance 
 with his duties as director of the ball, he received 
 the ladies as they arrived in the hall. Oh, what 
 mystic witchery those enchantresses possessed when, 
 fired by the strains of the orchestra, by the glare 
 of many lights, and by the thought of the approach- 
 ing ball, they suffered themselves, in delicious
 
 THE DUEL 125 
 
 confusion, to be divested of their boas, fur cloaks, 
 wraps, etc. Women's silvery laughter, high-pitched 
 chatter, mysterious whispers, the freezing perfume 
 from furs covered with hoar-frost, essences, powder, 
 kid gloves, etc. All this commingled constituted 
 the mystic, intoxicating atmosphere that is only 
 found where beautiful women in evening' dress crowd 
 one another immediately before entering a ballroom. 
 What a charm in their lovely eyes, beaming with 
 the certainty of victory, that cast a last, ;swift, 
 scrutinizing glance in the mirror at their hair !. 
 What music in the frou-frou of trains and silken 
 skirts ! What bliss in the touch of delicate little 
 hands, shawls, and fans ! 
 
 All this enchantment, Romashov felt, had now 
 ceased for ever. He now understood, and not (with- 
 out a certain sense of shame, that much of this 
 enchantment had owed its origin to the perusal of 
 bad French novels, in which occurred the inevitable 
 description of how " Gustave and Armand cross the 
 vestibule when invited to a ball at the Russian 
 Embassy." He also knew that the ladies of his 
 regiment wore for years the same evening dress, 
 which, on certain festive occasions, was patheti- 
 cally remodelled, and [that the white gloves 
 very often smelt of benzine. The generally pre- 
 vailing passion for different sorts of aigrettes, 
 scarves, sham diamonds, feathers, and ribbons of 
 loud and gaudy colours, struck him as being highly 
 ridiculous and pretentious. The same lack of taste 
 and shabby-genteel love of display were shown even 
 in their homes. They " made up " shamelessly, 
 and some faces by this means had acquired 
 a bluish tint ; but the most unpleasant part 
 of the affair, in Romashov 's opinion, was what he 
 and others in the regiment, on the day after the ball,
 
 126 THE DUEL 
 
 discovered as having happened behind the scenes- 
 gossip, flirtations, and big and little scandals. And 
 he also knew how much poverty, envy, love of 
 intrigue, petty provincial pride, and low morality 
 were hidden behind all this splendid misery. 
 
 Now Captain Taliman and his wife entered the 
 room. They were both tall and compact. 3he 
 was a delicate, fragile blonde ; he, dark, with 
 the face of a veritable brigand, and affected 
 with a chronic hoarseness and cough. Romashov 
 knew beforehand that Taliman would very soon 
 whisper his usual phrase, and, sure enough, the 
 latter directly afterwards exclaimed, as his gipsy 
 eyes wandered spy-like over the ballroom 
 
 "Have you started cards yet, Lieutenant?" 
 
 " No, not yet, they are all together in the dining- 
 room." 
 
 " Ah, really, do you know, Sonochka, I think 
 I'll go into the dining-room for a minute just to 
 glance at the Russki Invalid. And you, my dear 
 Romashov, kindly look after my wife here for a bit 
 they are starting the quadrille there." 
 
 After this the Lykatschev family a whole caravan 
 of pretty, laughing, lisping young ladies, always 
 chattering; made its appearance. At the head 
 walked the mother, a lively little woman, who, 
 despite her forty years, danced every dance, and 
 brought children into the world " between the second 
 and third quadrille," as Artschakovski, the wit of 
 the regiment, liked to put it. 
 
 The young ladies instantly threw themselves on 
 Romashov, laughing and chattering in the attempt 
 to talk one another down. 
 
 " Lieutenant Romashov, why do you never come 
 to thee uth? " 
 
 " You wicked man I "
 
 THE DUEL 127 
 
 " Naughty, naughty, naughty 1 " 
 
 " Wicked man ! " 
 
 " I will give you the firtht quadwille." 
 
 " Mesdames, mesdames," said Romashov in self- 
 defence, bowing and scraping in all directions, and 
 forced against his will to do the polite. 
 
 At that very moment he happened to look in the 
 direction of the street door. He recognized, sil- 
 houetted against the glass, Raisa Alexandrovna's 
 thin face and thick, prominent lips, which, however, 
 were almost hidden by a white kerchief tied over 
 her hat. 
 
 Romashov, like a schoolboy caught in the act, 
 slipped into the reception-room as quick as lightning, 
 but however much he might try to convince himself 
 that he escaped Raisa 's notice, he felt a certain 
 anxiety. In his quondam mistress's small eyes lay 
 a new expression, hard, menacing, and revengeful, 
 that foreboded a bad time for him. 
 
 He walked into the dining-room, where a crowd of 
 officers were assembled. Nearly all the chairs round 
 the long oilcloth-covered table were engaged. The 
 blue tobacco smoke curled slowly along the roof and 
 walls. A rancid smell of fried butter emanated from 
 the kitchen. Two or three groups of officers had 
 already made inroads on the cold collation and 
 schnapps. A few were reading the newspapers. A 
 loud, multitudinous murmur of voices blended with 
 the click of billiard balls, the rattle of knives, and 
 the slamming of the kitchen door. A cold, un- 
 pleasant draught from the vestibule caught one's 
 feet and legs. 
 
 Romashov looked for Lieutenant Bobetinski and 
 went to him. 
 
 Bobetinski was standing, with his hands in his 
 trousers pockets, quite near the long table. He
 
 128 THE DUEL 
 
 was rocking backwards and forwards, first on his 
 toes, then on his heels, and his eyes were blinking 
 from the smoke. Romashov gently touched his arm. 
 
 " I beg your pardon ! " said Bobetinski as he 
 turned round and drew one hand out of his pocket ; 
 but he continued peering with his eyes, squinting 
 at Romashov, and screwing his moustache with a 
 superior air and his elbows akimbo. " Ha I it is 
 you? This is very delightful I " 
 
 He always assumed an affected, mincing air, and 
 spoke in short, broken sentences, thinking, by so 
 doing, that he imitated the aristocratic Guardsmen 
 and the jeunesse doree of St. Petersburg. He had 
 a very high opinion of himself, regarded himself 
 as unsurpassed as a dancer and connoisseur of women 
 and horses, and loved to play the part of a blase man 
 of the world, although he was hardly twenty-four. 
 He always shrugged his shoulders coquettishly high, 
 jabbered horrible French, pattered along the streets 
 with limp, crooked knees and trailing gait, and 
 invariably accompanied his conversation with care- 
 less, weary gestures. 
 
 " My good Peter Taddeevich," implored Romas- 
 hov in a piteous voice, " do, please, conduct the 
 ball to-night instead of me." 
 
 " Mais, mon ami " Bobetinski shrugged his 
 shoulders, raised his eyebrows, and assumed a stupid 
 expression. " But, my friend," he translated into 
 Russian, "why so? Pourquoi done? Really, how 
 shall I say it? You you astonish me." 
 
 " Well, my dear fellow, please " 
 
 " Stop 1 No familiarities, if you please. My 
 dear fellow, indeed 1 " 
 
 " But I beg you, Peter Taddeevich. You see, my 
 head aches, and I have a pain in my ( throat*; it is 
 absolutely impossible for me to "
 
 THE DUEL 129 
 
 In this way Romashov long and fruitlessly 
 assailed his brother officer. Finally, as a last 
 expedient, he began to deluge him with gross 
 flattery. 
 
 " Peter Taddeevich, there is no one in the whole 
 regiment so capable as yourself of conducting a ball 
 with good taste and genius, and, moreover, a lady 
 has specially desired " 
 
 " A lady ! " Bobetinski assumed a blank, melan- 
 choly expression. "A lady, did you say? Ah, my 
 friend, at my age " he smiled with a studied ex- 
 pression of hopeless resignation. " Besides, what is 
 woman? Ha, ha! an enigma. However, I'll do 
 what you want me to do." And in the same doleful 
 tone he added suddenly, " Mon cher ami, do you 
 happen to have what do you call it three 
 roubles ? " 
 
 " Ah, no, alas ! " sighed Romashov. 
 
 "Well, one rouble, then?" 
 
 " But " 
 
 " Desagreable. The old, old story. At any rate, 
 I suppose we can take a glass of vodka together? " 
 
 " Alas, alas ! Peter Taddeevich, I have no further 
 credit." 
 
 " Oh ! O pauvre enfant! But it does not matter, 
 come along ! " Bobetinski waved his hand with 
 an air of magnanimity. " I will treat you." 
 
 Meanwhile, in the dining-room the conversation 
 had become more and more high-pitched and inter- 
 esting for some of those present. The talk was 
 about certain officers' duels that had lately taken 
 place, and opinions were evidently much divided. 
 
 The speaker at that moment was Artschakovski, 
 a rather obscure individual who was suspected, not 
 without reason, of cheating at cards. There was a 
 story current about him, which was whispered about, 
 
 9
 
 130 THE DUEL 
 
 to the effect that, before he entered the regiment, 
 when he still belonged to the reserves, he had been 
 head of a posting-station, and was arrested and 
 condemned for killing a post-boy by a blow of 
 his fist. 
 
 " Duels may often be necessary among the fools 
 and dandies of the Guards," exclaimed Artschakovski 
 roughly, "but it is not the same thing with us. 
 Let us assume for an instance that I and Vasili 
 Vasilich Lipski get blind drunk at mess, and that I, 
 who am a bachelor, whilst drunk, box his ears. 
 What will be the result? Well, either he refuses to 
 exchange a couple of bullets with me, and is con- 
 sequently turned out of the regiment, or he accepts 
 the challenge and gets a bullet in his stomach ; but 
 in either case his children will die of starvation. 
 No, all that sort of thing is sheer nonsense." 
 
 " Wait a bit," interrupted the old toper, Lieu- 
 tenant-Colonel Liech, as he held his glass with one 
 hand and with the other made several languid 
 motions in the air ; "do you understand what the 
 honour of the uniform is ? It is the sort of thing, 
 
 my dear fellow, which But speaking of duels, 
 
 I remember an event that happened in 1862 in the 
 Temriukski Regiment." 
 
 " For God's sake," exclaimed Artschakovski, in- 
 terrupting him in turn, " spare us your old stories 
 or tell us something that took place after the reign 
 of King Orre." 
 
 " What cheek-! you are only a little boy compared 
 with me. Well, as I was saying " 
 
 " Only blood can wipe out the stain of an insult," 
 stammered Bobetinski, who plumed himself on being 
 a cock, and now took part in the conversation in 
 a bragging tone. 
 
 " Well, gentlemen, there was at that time a certain
 
 THE DUEL 131 
 
 ensign Solucha," said Liech, making one more 
 attempt. 
 
 Captain Osadchi, commander of the ist Com- 
 pany, approached from the buffet. 
 
 " I hear that you are talking about duels most 
 interesting," he began in a gruff, rolling bass that 
 reminded one of a lion's roar, and immediately 
 drowned every murmur in the room. " I have the 
 honour, Lieutenant -Colonel. Good-evening, gentle- 
 men." 
 
 "Ah! what do I see the Colossus of Rhodes? 
 Come and sit down," replied Liech affably. " Come 
 and have a glass with me, you prince of giants." 
 
 " All right," answered Osadchi in an octave 
 lower. 
 
 This officer always had a curiously unnerving 
 effect on Romashov, and at the same time aroused 
 in him a mingled feeling of fear and curiosity. 
 Osadchi was no less famous than Shulgovich, not 
 only in the regiment but also in the whole division, 
 for his deafening voice when giving the word of com- 
 mand, his gigantic build, and tremendous physical 
 strength. He was also renowned for his remark- 
 able knowledge of the service and its requirements. 
 Now and then it even happened that Osadchi was, 
 in the interests of the service, removed from his 
 own regiment to another, and he usually succeeded, 
 in the course of half a year, in turning the most 
 backward, good-for-nothing troops into exemplary 
 war-machines. His magic power seemed much more 
 incomprehensible to his brother officers inasmuch 
 as he never or at least in very rare instancies 
 had recourse to blows or insults. Romashov always 
 thought he could perceive, behind those handsome, 
 gloomy, set features, the extreme paleness of which 
 was thrown into stronger relief by the bluish-black
 
 132 THE DUEL 
 
 hair, something strained, masterly, alluring, and 
 cruel a gigantic, bloodthirsty wild beast. Often 
 whilst observing Osadchi unseen from a distance, 
 Romashov would try to imagine what the man would 
 be like if he were in a rage, and, at the very thought 
 of it, his limbs froze with fear. And now, without a 
 thought of protesting, he saw how Osadchi, with 
 the careless calm that enormous physical (strength 
 always lends, coolly sat down on the seat intended 
 for himself. 
 
 Osadchi drained his glass, nibbled a crisp radish, 
 and said in a tone of indifference 
 
 " Well, what is the verdict? " 
 
 " That story, my dear friend," Liech put in, " I 
 will tell you at once. It was at the time when I 
 was serving in the Temriukski Regiment, a Lieu- 
 tenant von Zoon the soldiers called him ' Pod- 
 Zvoon ' who, on a certain occasion, happened to 
 be at mess " 
 
 Here, however, Liech was interrupted by Lipski, 
 a red-faced, thick-set staff captain who, in spite 
 of his good forty years, did not think it beneath him 
 to be the Jack-pudding in ordinary and butt of the 
 men, and by virtue thereof had assumed the insolent, 
 jocular tone of a spoilt favourite. 
 
 " Allow me, Captain, to put the matter in a nut- 
 shell. Lieutenant Artschakovski says that duels are 
 nothing but madness and folly. For such heresy he 
 ought to be sent with a bursary to a seminary for 
 priests but enough of that. But to get on with the 
 story, Lieutenant Bobetinski took up the debate and 
 demanded blood. Then came Lieutenant-Colonel 
 Liech with his hoary chestnuts, which, on that 
 occasion, by a wonderful dispensation of Providence, 
 we managed to escape. After that, Sub -lieutenant 
 Michin tried, in the midst of the general noise, to
 
 THE DUEL 133 
 
 expound his views, which were more and more un- 
 distinguishable both from the speaker's insufficient 
 strength of lungs and his well-known bashfulness." 
 
 Sub -lieutenant Michin an undersized youth with 
 sunken chest, dark, pock-marked, freckled face and 
 two timid, almost frightened eyes blushed till the 
 tears came into his eyes. 
 
 " Gentlemen, I only gentlemen, I may be mis- 
 taken," he said, " but, in my opinion I mean in other 
 words, as I look at the matter, every particular case 
 ought necessarily to be considered by itself." He 
 now began to bow and stammer worse and worse, 
 at the same time grabbing nervously with the tips 
 of his fingers at his invisible moustaches. " A 
 duel may occasionally be useful, even necessary, 
 nobody can deny, and I suppose there is no one 
 among us who will not approach the lists when 
 honour demands it. That is, as I have said, indis- 
 putable ; but, gentlemen, sometimes the highest 
 honour might also be found in in holding out the 
 hand of reconciliation. Well, of course, I cannot 
 now say on what occasions this 
 
 " Ugh ! you wretched Ivanovich," exclaimed 
 Artschakovski, interrupting him in a rude and 
 contemptuous tone, ." don't stand here mumbling. 
 Go home to your dear mamma and the feeding- 
 bottle." 
 
 " Gentlemen, won't you allow me to finish what 
 I was going to say? " 
 
 But Osadchi with his powerful bass voice put a 
 stop to the dispute. In a second there was silence 
 in the room. 
 
 " Every duel, gentlemen, must, above all, end in 
 death for at least one of the parties, otherwise it is 
 absurd. Directly coddling or humanity, so-called, 
 comes in, the whole thing is turned into a farce.
 
 134 THE DUEL 
 
 ' Fifteen paces distance and only one shot.' How 
 damnably pitiful ! Such a deplorable event only 
 happens in such tomfooleries as are called French 
 duels, which one reads about, now and then, in our 
 papers. They meet, each fires a bullet out of a 
 toy pistol, and the thing is over. Then come the 
 cursed newspaper hacks with their report on the 
 duel, which invariably winds up thus : ' The duel 
 went off satisfactorily. Both adversaries exchanged 
 shots without inflicting any injury on either party, 
 and both displayed the greatest courage during the 
 whole time. At the breakfast, after the champagne, 
 both the former mortal enemies fell into each other's 
 arms, etc.* A duel like that, gentlemen, is nothing 
 but a scandal, and does nothing to raise the tone of 
 our society." 
 
 Several of the company tried to speak at once. 
 Liech, in particular, made a last despairing attack 
 on those present to finish his story : 
 
 " Well, well, my friends, it was like this but 
 listen, you puppies." 
 
 Nobody, however, did listen to his adjurations, 
 and his supplicating glances wandered in vain over 
 the gathering, seeking for a deliverer and ally. 
 All turned disrespectfully away, eagerly engrossed 
 in that interesting subject, and Liech shook his head 
 sorrowfully. At last he caught sight of Romashov. 
 The young officer had the same miserable experience 
 as his comrades with regard to the old Lieutenant - 
 Colonel's talents as a story-teller, but his heart 
 grew soft, and he determined to sacrifice himself. 
 Liech dragged his prey away with him to the 
 table. 
 
 " This well come and listen to me, Ensign. Ah, 
 sit here and drink a glass with me. All the others 
 are mere asses and loons." Liech, with considerable
 
 THE DUEL 135 
 
 difficulty, raised his languid arm and made a con- 
 temptuous gesture towards the group of officers. 
 " Buzz, buzz, buzz ! What understanding or experi- 
 ence is there amongst such things? But wait a bit, 
 you shall hear." 
 
 Glass in one hand, the other waving in the air 
 as if he were the conductor of a big orchestra, Liech 
 began one of his interminable stories with which 
 he was larded like sausages with liver and which 
 he never brought to a conclusion because of an 
 endless number of divagations from the subject, 
 parentheses, embroideries, and analogues. The 
 anecdote in question was about an American duel, 
 Heaven only knows how many years ago, between 
 two officers who, playing for their lives, guessed 
 odd and even on the last figure of a date on a 
 rouble -note. But one of them it was never quite 
 cleared up as to whether it was a certain Pod-Zvoon 
 or his friend Solucha was blackguard enough to 
 paste together two rouble -notes of different dates 
 of issue, whereby the front had always an even date, 
 but the back an odd one " or perhaps it was the 
 other way about," pondered Liech long and con- 
 scientiously. " You see, my dear fellow, they of 
 course then began to dispute. One of them 
 said " 
 
 Alas, however, Liech did not even this time get to 
 the end of his story. Madame Raisa Alexandrovna 
 Peterson had glided into the buffet. Standing at 
 the door, but not entering, which was, moreover, 
 not permitted to ladies, she shouted with the roguish - 
 ness and audacity of a privileged young lady : 
 
 " Gentlemen, what do I see? The ladies have 
 arrived long ago, and here you are sitting and 
 having a good old time. We want to dance." 
 , Two or three young officers arose to go into the
 
 136 THE DUEL 
 
 ballroom. The rest coolly remained sitting where 
 they were, chatting, drinking, and smoking, without 
 taking the slightest notice of the coquettish lady. 
 Only Liech, the chivalrous old professional flirt, 
 strutted up with bandy, uncertain legs to Raisa, 
 with hands crossed over his chest and pouring 
 the contents of his glass over his uniform, cried 
 with a drunken emotion : 
 
 " Most divine among women, how can any one 
 forget his duties to a queen of beauty ? Your hand, 
 my charmer ; just one kiss 
 
 " Yuri Alexievich," Raisa babbled, " it's your turn 
 to-day to arrange the dancing. You are a nice 
 one to do that." 
 
 " Mille pardons, madame. C'est ma faute. This 
 is my fault," cried Bobetinski, as he flew off to her. 
 On the way he improvised a sort ,of ballet with 
 scrapes, bounds, genuflections, and a lot of wonderful 
 attitudes and gestures. " Your hand. Votre main, 
 madame. Gentlemen, to the ballroom, to the ball- 
 room ! " 
 
 He offered his arm to Raisa Alexandrovna, and 
 walked out of the room as proud as a peacock. 
 Directly afterwards he was heard shouting in his 
 well-known, affected tone : 
 
 " Messieurs, take partners for a waltz. Band 1 
 a waltz 1 " 
 
 '" Excuse me, Colonel, I am obliged to go now. 
 Duty calls me," said Romashov. 
 
 " Ah, my dear fellow," replied Liech, as his head 
 drooped with a dejected look " are you, too, such 
 a coxcomb as the others ? But wait just a moment, 
 Ensign ; have you heard the story of Moltike about 
 the great Field -Marshal Moltke, the strategist? " 
 
 " Colonel, on my honour, I must really go 
 I "
 
 THE DUEL 137, 
 
 " Well, well, don't get excited. I won't be long. 
 You see, it was like this : the great Man of Silence 
 used to take his meals in the officers' mess, and 
 every day he laid in front of him on the table a 
 purse full of gold with the intention of bestowing 
 it on the first officer from whose lips he heard a 
 single intelligent word. Well, at last, you know, 
 the old man died after having borne with this world 
 for ninety years, but you see the purse had always 
 been in safe keeping. Now run along, my boy. 
 Go and hop about like a sparrow."
 
 IX 
 
 IN the ballroom, the walls of which seemed to 
 vibrate in the same rhythm as the deafening music, 
 two couples were dancing. Bobetinski, whose elbows 
 flapped like a pair of wings, pirouetted with short, 
 quick steps around his partner, Madame Taliman, 
 who was dancing with the stately composure of a 
 stone monument. The gigantic Artschakovski of 
 the fair locks made the youngest of the Lykatschev 
 girls, a little thing with rosy cheeks, rotate round 
 him, whereas he, leaning forward, and closely observ- 
 ing his partner's hair and shoulders, moved his 
 legs as if he were dancing with a child. Fifteen 
 ladies lined the walls quite deserted, and trying 
 to look as if they did not mind it. As, which was 
 always the case at these soirees, the gentlemen 
 numbered less than a quarter of the ladies, the 
 prospect of a lively and enjoyable evening was 
 not particularly promising. 
 
 Raisa Alexandrovna, who had just opened the 
 ball, and was, therefore, the object of the other 
 ladies' envy, was now dancing with the slender, 
 ceremonious Olisar. He held one of her hands as 
 if it had been fixed to his left side. She supported 
 her chin in a languishing way against her other 
 hand, which rested on his right shoulder. She 
 kept her head far thrown back in an affected 
 
 and unnatural attitude. When the dance was over 
 
 138
 
 THE DUEL 139 
 
 she sat purposely near Romashov, who was leaning 
 against the doorpost of the ladies' dressing-room. 
 She fanned herself violently, and looking up to 
 Olisar, who was leaning over her, lisped in a soft 
 dolcissimo : 
 
 ' Tell me, Count, tell me, please, why do I always 
 feel so hot? Do tell me." 
 
 Olisar made a slight bow, clicked his spurs, 
 stroked his moustache several times. 
 
 " Dear lady, that is a question which I don't think 
 even Martin Sadek could answer." 
 
 When Olisar cast a scrutinizing glance at the 
 fair Raisa's decollete bosom, pitiable and bare as 
 the desert itself, she began at once to breathe 
 quickly and deeply. 
 
 " Ah, I have always an abnormally high tempera- 
 ture," Raisa Alexandrovna went on to say with a 
 significant expression, insinuating by her smile that 
 her words had a double meaning. " I suffer, too, 
 from an unusually fiery temperament." 
 
 Olisar gave vent to a short, soft chuckle. 
 
 Romashov stood looking sideways at Raisa, think- 
 ing with disgust, " Oh, how loathsome she is." 
 And at the thought that he had once enjoyed her 
 favours, he experienced the sensation as if he had 
 not changed his linen for months. 
 
 " Well, well, Count, don't laugh. Perhaps you 
 do not know that my mother was a Greek? " 
 
 " And how horribly she speaks, too," thought 
 Romashov. " Curious ,that I never noticed this be- 
 fore. It sounds as if she had a chronic cold or a 
 polypus in her nose ' by buther was a Greek.' ' 
 
 Now Raisa turned to Romashov and threw him 
 a challenging glance. 
 
 Romashov mentally said, -' His face became im- 
 passive like a mask."
 
 140 THE DUEL 
 
 " How do you do, Yuri Alexievich? Why don't 
 you come and speak to me? " Romashov went up 
 to her. With a venomous glance from her small, 
 sharp eyes she pressed his hand. The pupils of 
 her eyes stood motionless. 
 
 " At your desire I have kept the third quadrille 
 for you. I hope you have not forgotten that." 
 
 Romashov bowed. 
 
 " You are very polite ! At least you might say 
 Enchant e, madame! " (" Edchadte", badabe " was 
 what Romashov heard.) " Isn't he a blockhead, 
 Count ? 
 
 " Of course, I remember," mumbled Romashov 
 insincerely. " I thank you for the great honour." 
 
 Bobetinski did nothing to liven up the evening. 
 He conducted the ball with an apathetic, conde- 
 scending look, just as if he was performing, from 
 a strict sense of duty, something very distasteful 
 and uninteresting to himself, but of infinite impor- 
 tance to the rest of mankind. When, however, the 
 third quadrille was about to begin, he got, as it 
 were, a little new life, and, as he hurried across 
 the room with the long gliding steps of a skater, 
 he shouted in a loud voice : 
 
 " Quadrille monstre ! Cavaliers, engagez vos 
 dames! l ' 
 
 Romashov and Raisa Alexandrovna took up a 
 position close to the window of the music gallery, 
 with Michin and Madame Lieschtschenko for their 
 vis -a- vis. The latter hardly reached up to her 
 partner's shoulders. The number of dancers had 
 now very noticeably increased, and the couples stood 
 up for the third quadrille. Every dance had there- 
 fore to be repeated twice. 
 
 " There must be an explanation ; this must be 
 put a stop to," thought Romashov, almost deafened
 
 THE DUEL 141 
 
 by the noise of the big drums and the braying 
 brass instruments in his immediate proximity. " I 
 have had enough I ' And in his countenance you 
 could read fixed resolution.' " 
 
 The " dancing -masters " and those who arranged 
 the regimental balls had preserved by tradition 
 certain fairly innocent frolics and jokes for such 
 soirees, which were greatly appreciated by the 
 younger dancers. For instance, at the third 
 quadrille it was customary, as it were accidentally, 
 by changing the dances, to cause confusion among 
 the dancers, who with uproar and laughter did their 
 part in increasing the general disorder. Bobetinski's 
 device that evening consisted in the gentlemen 
 pretending to forget their partners and dancing the 
 figure by themselves. Suddenly a " galop all 
 round " was ordered, the result of which was a 
 chaos of ladies and gentlemen rushing about in 
 fruitless search for their respective partners. 
 
 " Mesdames, avancez pardon, reculez. Gentle- 
 men, alone. Pardon balancez avec vos dames! " 
 
 Raisa Alexandrovna kept talking to Romashov 
 in the most virulent tone and panting with fury, 
 but smiling all the while as if her conversa- 
 tion was wholly confined to pleasant and joyous 
 subjects. 
 
 " I will not allow any one to treat me in such 
 a manner, do you hear? I am not a, good-for- 
 nothing girl you can do as you like with. Besides, 
 decent people don't behave as you are behaving." 
 
 " Raisa Alexandrovna, for goodness' sake try to 
 curb your temper," begged Romashov in a low, 
 imploring tone. 
 
 " Angry with you ? No, sir, that would be to pay 
 you too high a compliment. I despise you, do you 
 hear? Despise you ; but woe to him who dares
 
 142 THE DUEL 
 
 to play with my feelings ! You left my letter un- 
 answered. How dare you?" 
 
 " But your letter did not reach me, I assure 
 you." 
 
 " Ha ! don't try to humbug me. I know your 
 lies, and I also know where you spend your time. 
 Don't make any mistake about that. 
 
 " Do you think I don't know this woman, this 
 Lilliput queen, and her intrigues ? Rather, you may 
 be sure of that," Raisa 'went on to say. " She fondly 
 imagines she's a somebody ; yes, she does ! Her 
 father was a thieving notary." 
 
 " I must beg you, in my presence, to express 
 yourself in a more decent manner in regard to my 
 friends," interrupted Romashov sharply. 
 
 Then and there a painful scene occurred. Raisa 
 stormed and broke out in a torrent of aspersions on 
 Shurochka. The fury within her had now the 
 mastery ; her artificial smiles were banished, and she 
 even tried to drown the music by her snuffly voice. 
 Romashov, conscious of his impotence to try to 
 poit in a word in defence of the grossly insulted 
 Shurochka, was distracted with shame and wrath. 
 In addition to this were the intolerable din of the 
 band and the disagreeable attention of the by- 
 standers, which his partner's unbridled fury was 
 beginning to attract. 
 
 " Yes, her father was a common thief ; she has 
 nothing to stick her nose in the air about and she 
 ought, to be sure, to be very clareful not to give her- 
 self airs ! " shrieked Raisa. " And for a thing like 
 that to dare to look down on us ! We know some- 
 thing else about her, too ! " 
 
 " I implore you ! " whispered Romashov. 
 
 " Don't make any mistake about it ; both you and 
 she shall feel my claws. In the first place, I
 
 THE DUEL 143 
 
 shall open her husband's eyes the eyes of that fool 
 Nikolaiev, who has, for the third time, been 
 ' ploughed ' in his exam. But what else can one 
 expect from a fool like that, who does not know 
 what is going on under his nose ? And it is certainly 
 no longer any secret who the lover is." 
 
 " Mazurka generate! Promenade! " howled 
 Bobetinski, who at that moment was strutting 
 through the room with the pomp of an archangel. 
 
 The floor rocked under the heavy tramping of the 
 dancers, and the muslin curtains and coloured lamps 
 moved in unison with the notes of the mazurka. 
 
 "Why cannot we part as friends?" Romashov 
 asked in a shy tone. He felt within himself that 
 this woman not only caused him indescribable 
 disgust, but also aroused in his heart a cowardice 
 he could not subdue, and which filled him with 
 self-contempt. " You no longer love me ; let us 
 part good friends." 
 
 " Ha I ha ! You're frightened ; you're trying to 
 cut my claws. No, my fine fellow. I am not one 
 of those who are thrown aside with impunity. It 
 is I, mind you, who throw aside one who causes 
 me disgust and loathing not the other way about. 
 And as for your baseness " 
 
 " That's enough ; let's end all this talk," said 
 Romashov, interrupting her in a hollow voice and 
 with clenched teeth. 
 
 " Five minutes' entr'acte. Cavalier s, occupez vos 
 dames! " shouted Bobetinski. 
 
 " I'll end it when I think fit. You have deceived 
 me shamefully. For you I have sacrificed all that 
 a virtuous woman can bestow. It is your fault 
 that I dare not look my husband in the face 
 my husband, the best and noblest man on earth. 
 It's you who made me forget my duties jas wife
 
 144 THE DUEL 
 
 and mother. Oh, why, why did I not remain true 
 to him ! " 
 
 Romashov could not, however, now refrain from 
 a smile. Raisa Alexandrovna's innumerable amours 
 with all the young, new-fledged officers in the 
 regiment were an open secret, and both by word 
 of mouth and in her letters to Romashov she was 
 in the habit of referring to her " beloved husband " 
 in the following terms : " my fool," or " that 
 despicable creature," or " this booby who is always 
 in the way," etc., etc. 
 
 " Ah, you have even the impudence to laugh," 
 she hissed ; " but look out now, sir, it is my turn." 
 
 With these words she took her partner's arm 
 and tripped along, with swaying hips and smiling 
 a vinegary smile on all sides. When the dance 
 was over her face resumed its former expression 
 of hatred. Again she began to buzz savagely 
 " like an angry wasp," thought Romashov. 
 
 "I shall never forgive you this, do you hear? 
 Never. I know the reason why you have thrown 
 me over so shamelessly and in such a blackguardly 
 fashion ; but don't fondly imagine that a new love- 
 intrigue will be successful. No ; never, as long as 
 I live, shall that be the case. Instead of acknow- 
 ledging in a straightforward and honourable way 
 that you no longer love me, you have preferred to 
 cloak your treachery and treat me like a vulgar 
 harlot, reasoning, I suppose, like this : ' If it does 
 not come off with the other, I always have her, 
 you know.' Ha ! ha ! ha !" 
 
 " All right, you may perhaps allow me to speak 
 decently," began Romashov, with restrained wrath. 
 His face grew paler and paler, and he bit his lips 
 nervously. ' You have asked for it, and now I 
 tell you straight. I do not love you."
 
 THE DUEL 145 
 
 " Oh, what an insult ! " 
 
 " I have never loved you ; nor did you love me. 
 >We have both played an unworthy and false game, 
 a miserable, vulgar farce with a nauseous plot and 
 disgusting roles. Raisa Alexandrovna, I have 
 studied you, and I know you, very likely, better 
 than you do yourself. You lack every requisite 
 of love, tenderness, nay, even common affection. 
 The cause of it is your absolutely superficial 
 character, your narrow, petty outlook on life. And, 
 besides " (Romashov happened to remember at this 
 point Nasanski's words), " only elect, refined natures 
 can know what a great or real love is." 
 
 " Such elect, refined natures, for instance, as your 
 own." 
 
 Once more the band thundered forth. Romashov 
 looked almost with hatred at the trombone's wide, 
 shining mouth, that, with the most cynical indif- 
 ference, flung out its hoarse, howling notes over 
 the whole of the room. And its fellow-culprit the 
 poor soldier who, with the full force of his lungs, 
 gave life to the instrument was with his bulging 
 eyes and blue, swollen cheeks, no less an object 
 of his dislike and disgust. 
 
 " Don't let us quarrel about it. It is likely enough 
 that I am not worthy of a great and real love, 
 but we are not discussing that now. The fact is 
 that you, with your narrow, provincial views and 
 silly vanity, must needs always be surrounded by 
 men dancing attendance on you, so that you may 
 be able to boast about it to your lady friends in 
 what you are pleased to call ' Society.' And possibly 
 you think I have not understood the purpose /of 
 your ostentatiously familiar manner with me at the 
 regimental soirees, your tender glances, etc., the 
 intimately dictatorial tone you always assume when 
 
 10
 
 146 THE DUEL 
 
 we are seen together. Yes, precisely the chief 
 object was that people should notice the free-and- 
 easy way in which you treated me. Except for this 
 all your game would not have had the slightest 
 meaning, for no real love or affection on my part 
 has ever formed part of your programme." 
 
 " Even if such had been the case I .might well 
 have chosen a better and more worthy object 
 than you," replied Raisa, in a haughty and scornful 
 tone. 
 
 " Such an answer from you is too ridiculous to 
 insult me ; for, listen, I repeat once more, your 
 absurd vanity demands that some slave should 
 always be dancing attendance on you. But the 
 years come and go, and the number of your slaves 
 diminishes. Finally, in order not to be entirely 
 without admirers, you are forced to sacrifice your 
 plighted troth, your duties as wife and mother." 
 
 " No ; but that's quite sufficient. You shall most 
 certainly hear from me," whispered Raisa, in a 
 significant tone and with glittering eyes. 
 
 At that moment, Captain Peterson came across 
 the room with many absurd skips and shuffles in 
 order to avoid colliding with the dancers. He was 
 a thin, consumptive man with a yellow complexion, 
 bald head, and black eyes, in the warm and moist 
 glance of which lurked treachery and malice. It 
 was said of him that, curiously enough, he was 
 to such an extent infatuated with his wife that 
 he played the part of intimate friend, in an unctuous 
 and sickening way, with all her lovers. It was 
 likewise common knowledge that he had tried by 
 means of acrimonious perfidy and the most vulgar 
 intrigues to be revenged on every single person who 
 had, with joy and relief, turned his back on the 
 fair Raisa's withered charms.
 
 THE DUEL 147 
 
 He smiled from a distance at his wife and 
 Romashov with his bluish, pursed lips. 
 
 "Are you dancing, Romashov? Well, how are 
 you, my dear Georgi? Where have you been all 
 this time ? My wife and I were so used to your 
 company that we have been quite dull without you." 
 
 " Been awfully busy," mumbled Romashov. 
 
 " Ah, yes, we all know about those military 
 duties," replied Captain Peterson, with a little 
 insinuating whistle that was directly changed into 
 an amicable smile. His black eyes with their yellow 
 pupils wandered, however, from Raisa to Romashov 
 inquisitively. 
 
 " I have an idea that you two have been 
 quarrelling. Why do you both look so cross ? What 
 has happened? " 
 
 Romashov stood silent whilst he gazed, worried 
 and embarrassed, at Raisa 's skinny, dark, sinewy 
 neck. Raisa answered promptly, with the easy inso- 
 lence she invariaoly displayed when lying : 
 
 "- Yuri Alexievich is playing the philosopher. He 
 declares that dancing is both stupid and ridiculous, 
 and that he has seen his best days." 
 
 " And yet he dances? " replied the Captain, with 
 a quick, snake -like glance at Romashov. "Dance 
 away, my children, and don't let me disturb 
 you/' 
 
 He had scarcely got out of earshot before Raisa 
 Alexandrovna, in a hypocritical, pathetic tone, burst 
 out with, " And I have deceived this saint, (this 
 noblest of husbands. And for whom? Oh, if he 
 knew all, if he only knew ! " 
 
 "Mazurka gnrale," shrieked Bobetinski. 
 " Gentlemen, resume your partners." \ 
 
 The violently perspiring bodies of the dancers 
 and the dust arising from the parquet floor made
 
 148 THE DUEL 
 
 the air of the ballroom, close, and 1 the lights in 
 the lamps and candelabra took a dull yellow tint. 
 The dancing was now in 'full swing, but as the 
 space was insufficient, each couple, who every 
 moment squeezed and pushed against one another, 
 was obliged to tramp on the very same spot. This 
 figure the last in the quadrille consisted in a 
 gentleman, who was without a partner, pursuing a 
 couple who were dancing. If he managed to come 
 face to face with a lady he clapped her on the hand, 
 which meant that the lady was now his booty. 
 The lady's usual partner tried, of course, to prevent 
 this, but by this arose a disorder and uproar which 
 often resulted in some very brutal incidents. 
 
 " Actress," whispered Romashov hoarsely, as he 
 bent nearer to Raisa. '- You're as pitiable as you 
 are ridiculous." 
 
 " And you are drunk," the worthy lady, almost 
 shrieked, giving Romashov at the same time a 
 glance resembling that with which the heroine on 
 the stage measures the villain of the piece from head 
 to foot. 
 
 " It only remains for me to find out," pursued 
 Romashov mercilessly, " the exact reason why I 
 was chosen by you. But this, however, is a question 
 which I can answer myself. You gave yourself to 
 me in order to get a hold on me. Oh, if this had 
 been done out of love or from sentiment merely 1 
 But you were actuated by a base vanity. Are 
 you not frightened at the mere thought of the 
 depths into which we have both sunk, without even 
 a spark of love that might redeem the crime? You 
 must understand that this is even more wretched 
 than when a woman sells herself for money. Then 
 dire necessity is frequently the tempter. But in 
 this case the memory of this senseless, unpardbn-
 
 THE DUEL 149 
 
 able crime will always be to me a source of shame 
 and loathing." 
 
 With cold perspiration on his forehead and dis- 
 traction in his weary eyes, he gazed on the couples 
 dancing. Past him! hardly lifting her feet and 
 without looking at her partner sailed the majestic 
 Madame Taliman, with motionless shoulders and an 
 ironical, menacing countenance, as if she meant to 
 protect herself against the slightest liberty or insult. 
 Epifanov skipped round her like a little frisky 
 goat. Then glided little Miss Lykatschev, flushed 
 of face, with gleaming eyes, and bare, white, virginal 
 bosom. Then came Olisdr with his slender, elegant 
 legs, straight and stiff as a sparrow-'s. Romjashov 
 felt a burning headache and a strong, almost uncon- 
 trollable desire to weep ; but beside him, still stood 
 Raisa, pale with suppressed rage. With an exag- 
 gerated theatrical gesture she fired at him the 
 following sarcasm! 
 
 " Did any one ever hear such a thing before? A 
 Russian Infantry lieutenant playing the part of the 
 chaste Joseph? Ha, ha, ha ! " 
 
 '- Yes, quite so, my lady. Precisely that part,"- 
 replied Romashov, glaring with wrath. t I know 
 too well that it is humiliating and ridiculous. 
 Nevertheless, I am not ashamed to express my 
 sorrow that I should have so degraded myself. 
 With our eyes open we have both flung 1 our- 
 selves into a cesspool, and I know that I shall 
 never again deserve a pure and noble woman's 
 love. Who is to blame for this? Well, you. Bear 
 this well in mind you, you, you for you were the 
 older and more experienced ,of us two, especially 
 in affairs of that sort." 
 
 Raisa Alexandrovna got up hurriedly from her 
 chair. " That will do,' 1 she replied in a dramatic
 
 ISO THE DUEL 
 
 tone. " You have got what you wanted. / hate 
 you. I hope henceforward you will cease to visit 
 a home where you were received as a friend and 
 relation, where you were entertained and fed, and 
 where, too, you were found out to be the scoundrel 
 you are. Oh, that I had the courage to reveal 
 everything to my husband that incomparable crea- 
 ture, that saint whom I venerate. Were he only, 
 convinced of what has happened he would, I think, 
 know how to avenge the wounded honour of a 
 helpless, insulted woman. He would kill you." 
 
 Romashov looked through his eyeglass at her 
 big, faded mouth, her features distorted by hate 
 and rage. The infernal music from the open 
 windows of the gallery continued with unimpaired 
 strength ; the intolerable bassoon howled worse 
 than ever, and, thought Romashov, the bass drum 
 had now come into immediate contact with his 
 brain . 
 
 Raisa shut her fan with a snap that echoed 
 through the ballroom. " Oh, you lowest of all 
 blackguards on earth," whispered she, with a 
 theatrical gesture, and then disappeared into the 
 ladies' retiring-room. 
 
 All was now over and done with, but Romashov 
 did not experience the relief he expected. This long- 
 nourished hope to feel his soul freed from a heavy 
 unclean burthen was not fulfilled. His strict, 
 avenging conscience told him that he had acted 
 in a cowardly, low, and boorish way when he cast 
 all the blame on a weak, narrow, wretched woman 
 who, most certainly at that moment, in the ladies '- 
 room, was, through him, shedding bitter, hysterical 
 tears of sorrow, shame, and impotent rage. 
 
 " I am sinking more and more deeply," thought 
 he, in disgust ajt himself. What had his life been?
 
 THE DUEL 151 
 
 what had it consisted of? An odious and wanton 
 liaison, gambling, drinking, soul-killing, monotonous 
 regimental routine, with never a single inspiriting 
 word, never a ray of light in this black, hopeless 
 darkness. Salutary, useful work, music, art, science, 
 where were they ? 
 
 He returned to the dining-room. There he met 
 Osadchi and his friend Viatkin, who with much 
 trouble was making his way in the direction of the 
 street door. Liech, now quite drunk, was help- 
 lessly wobbling in different directions, whilst in 
 a fuddled voice he kept asserting that he was 
 an archbishop. Osadchi intoned in reply with the 
 most serious countenance and a low, rolling bass, 
 whilst carefully following the ecclesiastical ritual 
 
 " Your high, refulgent Excellency, the hour of 
 burial has struck. Give us your blessing", etc." 
 
 As the soire'e approached its end, the gathering 
 in the dining-room grew more noisy and lively. 
 The room was already so full of tobacco smoke 
 that those sitting at opposite sides of the table could 
 not recognize each other. Cards were being played 
 in one corner ; by the window a small but select 
 set had assembled to edify one another by racy 
 stories the spice most appreciated at officers' 
 dinners and suppers. 
 
 " No, no, no, gentlemen," shrieked Artschakovski, 
 " allow me to put in a word. You see it was 
 this way : a soldier was quartered at the house of 
 a khokhol ' who had a pretty wife. Ho, ho, thought 
 the soldier, that is something for me." 
 
 Then, however, he was interrupted by Vasili 
 Vasilievich, who had been waiting long and im- 
 patiently 
 
 Nickname for Little Russians on account of their curious habit of 
 cutting and fashioning their hair into a tuft (khokhol) on the crown.
 
 152 THE DUEL 
 
 " Shut up with your old stories, Artschakovski . 
 You shall hear this. Once upon a time in Odessa 
 there " 
 
 But even he was not allowed to speak very long'. 
 The generality of the stories were rather poor and 
 devoid of wit, but, to make up for that, they were 
 interspersed with coarse and repulsive cynicisms. 
 Viatkin, who had now returned from the street, 
 where he had been paying his respects to Liech's 
 " interment " and holy " departure," invited Romas - 
 hov to sit down at the table. 
 
 " Sit you here, my dear Georginka. 1 We will 
 watch them. To-day I am as rich as a Jew. I 
 won yesterday, and to-day I shall take the bank 
 again." 
 
 Romashov only longed to lighten his heart, for 
 a friend to whom he might tell his sorrow and 
 his disgust at life. After draining his glass he 
 looked at Viatkin with beseeching eyes, and began 
 to talk in a voice quivering with deep, inward 
 emotion. 
 
 " Pavel Pavlich, we all seem to have completely 
 forgotten the existence of another life. Where it 
 is I cannot say ; I only know that it exists. Even 
 in that men must struggle, suffer, and love, but 
 that life is rich rich in great thoughts and noble 
 deeds. For here, my friend, what do you suppose 
 our life is, and how will such a miserable existence 
 as ours end some day? " 
 
 " Well, yes, old fellow but it's life," replied 
 Viatkin in a sleepy way. " Life after all is only 
 natural philosophy and energy. And what is 
 energy? " 
 
 " Oh, what a 'wretched existence," Romashov went 
 on to say with increasing emotion, and without 
 
 1 An affectionate diminutive of George.
 
 THE DUEL 153 
 
 listening to Viatkin. " To-day we booze at mess 
 till we are drunk ; to-morrow we meet at drill 
 ' one, two, left, right ' in the evening we again 
 assemble round the bottle. Just the same, year in, 
 year out. That's what makes up our life. How 
 disgusting ! " 
 
 Viatkin peered at him with sleepy eyes, 
 hiccoughed, and then suddenly started singing in 
 a weak falsetto : 
 
 " In the dark, stilly forest 
 There once dwelt a maiden, 
 She sat at her distaff 
 By day and by night. 
 
 ' Take care of your health, my angel, and to 
 the deuce with the rest. 
 
 " Romashevich ! Romaskovski I let's go to the 
 board of green cloth. I'll lend you a " 
 
 " No one understands me, and I have not a single 
 friend here," sighed Romashov mournfully. The 
 next moment he remembered Shurochka the 
 splendid, high-minded Shurochka, and he felt in 
 his heart a delicious and melancholy sensation, 
 coupled with hopelessness and quiet resignation. 
 
 He stayed in the mess-room till daybreak, watched 
 them playing schtoss, and now and then took a hand 
 at the game, yet without feeling the slightest 
 pleasure or interest in it. Once he noticed how 
 Artschakovski, who was playing at a little private 
 table with two ensigns, made rather a stupid, but 
 none the less successful, attempt to cheat. Romas- 
 hov thought for a moment of taking up the matter 
 and exposing the fraud, but checked himself sud- 
 denly, saying to himself : " Oh, what's the use ! 
 I should not improve matters by interfering."
 
 154 THE DUEL 
 
 Viatkin, who had lost, in less than five minutes, 
 his boasted " millions," sat sleeping on a chair, with 
 his eyes wide open anfd his face as white as a 
 sheet. Beside Romashov sat the eternal Liescht- 
 schenko with his mournful eyes fixed on the game. 
 Day began to dawn. The guttering candle-ends' 
 half-extinguished, yellowish flames flickered dully 
 in their sticks, and illumined by their weak and 
 uncertain light the pale, emaciated features of the 
 gamblers. But Romashov kept staring at the cards, 
 the heaps of silver and notes, arid the green cloth 
 scrawled all over with chalk ; and in his heavy, 
 weary head the same cruel, torturing thoughts of a 
 worthless, unprofitable life ran incessantly.
 
 X 
 
 IT was a splendid, though somewhat chilly, spring 
 morning. The hedges were in bloom. Romashov, 
 who was still, as a rule, a slave to his youthful, 
 heavy sleep, had, as usual, overslept himself, and 
 was late for the morning drill. With an unpleasant 
 feeling of shyness and nervousness, he approached 
 the parade-ground, and his spirits were not cheered 
 by the thought of Captain Sliva's notorious habit 
 of making a humiliating and painful situation still 
 worse by his abuse and rudeness. 
 
 This officer was a survival of the barbaric times 
 when an iron discipline, idiotic pedantry parade 
 march in three time and inhuman martial laws were 
 virtually epidemic. Even in the 4th Regiment, 
 which, from being quartered in a God-forsaken hole, 
 seldom came into contact with civilization, and, 
 moreover, did not bear the reputation for much 
 culture, Captain Sliva was looked upon as a rough 
 and boorish person, and the most incredible anec- 
 dotes were current about him. Everything outside 
 the company, service, and drill -book, and which 
 he was accustomed to call " rot " or " rubbish," 
 had no existence so far as he was concerned. After 
 having borne for nearly all his life the heavy 
 burden of military service, he had arrived at such 
 a state of savagery that he never opened a book, 
 and, as far as newspapers were concerned, he only
 
 156 THE DUEL 
 
 looked at the official and military notices in the 
 Invalid. He despised with all his innate cynicism 
 the meetings and amusements of society, and there 
 were no oaths, no insulting terms too gross and 
 crude for him to incorporate in his " Soldier's 
 Lexicon." One story about him was that one lovely 
 summer evening, when sitting at his open window, 
 occupied, as usual, with his registers and accounts, 
 a nightingale began to warble. -Captain Sliva got 
 up instantly, and shouted in a towering rage to 
 his servant Sachartschuk, " Get a stone and drive 
 away that damned bird ; it's disturbing me." 
 
 This apparently sleepy and easy-going man was 
 unmercifully severe to the soldiers, whom he not 
 only abandoned to the ferocity of the " non-coms.," 
 but whom he himself personally whipped till they 
 fell bleeding to the ground ; but in all that con- 
 cerned their food, clothing, and pay, he displayed 
 the greatest consideration and honesty, and in this 
 he was only surpassed by the commander of the 
 5th Company. 
 
 To the junior officers Captain Sliva was always 
 harsh and stiff, and a certain native, crabbed humour 
 imparted an additional sharpness to his biting sar- 
 casms. If, for instance, a subaltern officer happened, 
 during the march, to step out with the wrong foot, 
 he instantly bellowed 
 
 ' ' Damnation ! What the devil are you doing ? 
 All the company except Lieutenant N. is marching 
 with the wrong foot ! " 
 
 He was particularly rude and merciless on 
 occasions when some young officer overslept him- 
 self or, for some other cause, came too late to drill, 
 which not unfrequently was the case with Romas - 
 hov. 
 
 Captain Sliva had a habit then of celebrating the
 
 THE DUEL 157 
 
 victim's advent by forming the 'whole company into 
 line, and, in a sharp voice, commanding " Atten- 
 tion ! " After this he took up a position opposite 
 the front rank, and in death -like silence waited, 
 watch in hand and motionless, while the unpunctual 
 officer, crushed with shame, sought his place in the 
 line. Now and then Sliva increased the poor sinner's 
 torture by putting to him the sarcastic question : 
 " Will your Honour allow the company to go on 
 with the drill ? " For Romashov he had, moreover, 
 certain dainty phrases specially stored up, e.g. "I 
 hope you slept well," or " Your Honour has, I 
 suppose, as usual, had pleasant dreams? " etc., etc. 
 When all these preludes were finished, he began 
 to shower abuse and reproaches on his victim. 
 
 " Oh, I don't care," thought Romashov to him- 
 self in deep disgust as he approached his company. 
 "It is no worse to be here than in other places. 
 All my life is ruined." 
 
 Sliva, Viatkin, Lbov, and the ensign were stand- 
 ing in the middle of the parade-ground, and all 
 turned at once to Romashov as he arrived. Even 
 the soldiers turned their heads towards him, and 
 with veritable torture Romashov pictured to him- 
 self what a sorry figure he cut at that 
 moment . 
 
 '" Well, the shame I am now feeling is possibly 
 unnecessary or excessive," he reasoned to himself, 
 trying, as is habitual with timid or bashful persons, 
 to console himself. " Possibly that which seems 
 so shameful and guilty to me is regarded by others 
 as the veriest trifle. Suppose, for instance, that 
 it was Lbov, not I, who came too late, and that 
 I am now in the line and see him coming pp. 
 Well, what more what is there to make a fuss 
 about? Lbov comes that's all it amounts to. How
 
 158 THE DUEL 
 
 stupid to grieve and get uncomfortable at such 
 a petty incident, which within a month, perhaps - 
 even in a week, will be forgotten by all here present. 
 Besides, what is there in this life which is not 
 forgotten? " Romashov remarked as he finished 
 his argument with himself, and felt in some degree 
 calm and consoled. 
 
 To every one's astonishment this time Sliva spared 
 Romashov from personal insults, nay, he even 
 seemed not to have noticed him in the least. 
 When Romashov went up to him and saluted, 
 with his heels together and his hand at 
 his cap, he only said, pointing his red, withered 
 fingers, which strongly resembled five little cold 
 sausages : 
 
 " I must beg you, Sub -lieutenant, to remember 
 that it is your duty to be with your company 
 five minutes before the senior subaltern officers, 
 and ten animates before the chief of your com- 
 pany." 
 
 -" I am very sorry, Captain," replied Romashov 
 in a composed tone. 
 
 " That's all very well, Sub -lieutenant, but you are 
 always asleep and you seem to have quite for- 
 gotten the old adage : ' He who is seldom awake 
 must go about shabby.' And I must now ask 
 you, gentlemen, to retire to your respective com- 
 panics." 
 
 The whole company was split up into small 
 groups, each of which was instructed in gymnastics. 
 The soldiers stood drawn up in open file at a dis- 
 tance of a pace apart, and with their uniforms un- 
 buttoned in order to enable them to perform their 
 gymnastic exercises. Bobyliev, the smart subaltern 
 officer stationed in Romashov's platoon, cast a 
 'respectful glance at his cornrnander, who was ap-
 
 THE DUEL 159 
 
 preaching, his lower jaw stuck out and his eyes 
 squinting, and giving orders in a resonant voice 
 
 " Hips steady. Rise on your toes. Bend your 
 knees." 
 
 And directly after that, very softly and in a sing- 
 song voice 
 
 " Begin." 
 
 " One," sang out the soldiers in unison, and they 
 simultaneously performed in slow time the order to 
 bend the knees till the whole division found itself 
 on its haunches. 
 
 Bobyliev, who likewise performed the same move- 
 ment, scrutinized the soldiers with severe, critical, 
 and aggressive eyes. Immediately beside him cried 
 the little spasmodic corporal, Syeroshtcin, in his 
 sharp, squeaky voice that reminded one of a cockerel 
 squabbling for food 
 
 " Stretch your arms to the right and left salute. 
 Begin, one, two, one, two," and directly afterwards 
 ten smart young fellows were heard yelling at the 
 top of their voices the regulation 
 
 " Had, had, had." 
 
 " Halt," shouted Syeroshtdn, red of face from 
 rage and over -exertion. " La-apschin, you great 
 ass, you toss about, give yourself airs, and twist 
 your arm like some old woman from Riasan chod, 
 chod. Do the movements properly, or by all that's 
 unholy I'll " 
 
 After this the subalterns led their respective 
 divisions at quick march to the gymnastic apparatus, 
 which had been set up in different parts of the 
 parade - ground. Sub - lieutenant Lbov young, 
 strong, and agile, and also an expert gymnast 
 threw down his sabre and cap, and ran before the 
 others to one of the bars. Grasping the bar with 
 both his hands, afte*- three violent efforts he made
 
 i6o THE DUEL 
 
 a somersault in the air, threw himself forward and 
 finally landed himself on all fours two yards and a 
 half from the bar. 
 
 " Sub -lieutenant Lbov, at your everlasting circus 
 tricks again," shrieked Captain Sliva in a tone meant 
 to be severe. In his heart the old warrior cherished 
 a sneaking affection for Lbov, who was a thoroughly 
 efficient soldier, and, by his brave bearing, invalu- 
 able at parades. " Be good enough to observe 
 the regulation, and keep the other thing till Carnival 
 comes round." 
 
 " Right, Captain ! " yelled Lbov in reply ; " but I 
 shan't obey," he whispered to Romashov with a wink. 
 
 The 4th platoon exercised on the inclined ladder. 
 The soldiers walked in turn to the ladder, gripped 
 hold of the steps, and climbed up them with 
 arms bent. Shapovalenko stood below and made 
 remarks 
 
 " Keep your feet still. Up with your soles." 
 
 The turn now came to a little soldier in the left 
 wing, whose name was Khliabnikov, who served 
 as a butt to the entire company. Whenever Romas- 
 hov caught sight of him, he wondered how this 
 emaciated, sorry figure, in height almost a dwarf, 
 whose dirty little beardless face was but a little 
 larger than a man's fist, could have been admitted 
 into the army. And when he met Khliabnikov's 
 soulless eyes, which looked as if they had expressed 
 nothing but a dull submissive fear ever since he 
 was born, he felt in his heart a heavy, oppressive 
 feeling of disgust and prick of conscience. 
 
 Khliabnikov hung motionless on the ladder like 
 a dead, shapeless mass. 
 
 " Take a grip and raise yourself on your arms, 
 you miserable dog ! " shrieked the sergeant. " Up 
 with you, I say."
 
 THE DUEL 161 
 
 Khliabnikov made a violent effort to show his 
 obedience, but in vain. He remained in the same 
 position, and his legs swung from side to side. 
 For the space of a second he turned downwards 
 and sideways his ashen grey face, in which the 
 dirty little turned-up nose obstinately turned up- 
 wards. Suddenly he let go of the ladder and fell 
 like a sack to the ground. 
 
 " Ho, ho, you refuse to obey orders, to make the 
 movement you were ordered to do," roared the 
 sergeant ; " but a scoundrel like you shall not 
 destroy discipline. Now you shall " 
 
 " Shapovalenko, don't tou<ch him ! " shouted 
 Romashov, beside himself with anger and shame. 
 " I forbid you to strike him now and always." 
 Romashov rushed up and pulled the sergeant's 
 arm. 
 
 Shapovalenko instantaneously became stiff and 
 erect, and raised his hand to his cap. In his eyes, 
 which at once resumed their ordinary lifeless ex- 
 pression, and on his lips there gleamed a faint 
 mocking smile. 
 
 " I will obey, your Honour, but permit me to 
 report that that fellow is utterly impossible." 
 
 Khliabnikov took his place once more in the 
 ranks. He looked lazily out of the corner of his 
 eyes at the young officer, and stroked his nose 
 with the back of his hand'. Romashov turned his 
 back on him and went off, meditating painfully 
 over this fruitless pity, to inspect the 3rd platoon. 
 
 After the gymnastics the soldiers had ten minutes' 
 rest. The officers forgathered at the bars, almost 
 in the middle of the exercise -ground. Their con- 
 versation turned on the great May parade, which 
 was approaching. 
 
 " Well, it now remains for us to guess where the 
 
 II
 
 1 62 THE DUEL 
 
 shoe pinches," began Sliva, as he swung his arms, 
 and opened wide his watery blue eyes, " for I'll 
 tell you one thing, every General has his special 
 little hobby. I remember we once had a Lieu- 
 tenant -General Lvovich for the commander of our 
 corps. He came to us direct from the Engineers. 
 The natural consequence was we never did any- 
 thing except dig and root up earth. Drill, marching, 
 and keeping time all such were thrown on the dust- 
 heap. From morning to night we built cottages 
 and quarters in .summer, of earth ; in winter, of 
 snow. The whole regiment looked like a collec- 
 tion of clodhoppers, dirty beyond recognition. 
 Captain Aleinikov, the com'mander of the loth 
 Company God rest his soul ! became a Knight 
 of St. Anne, because he had somehow constructed 
 a little redoubt in two hours." 
 
 ' That was clever of him," observed Lbov. 
 
 '" Wait, I have more to remind you of. You 
 remember, Pavel Pavlich, General Aragonski and 
 his everlasting gunnery instructions ? v 
 
 " And the story of Pontius Pilate," laughed 
 Viatkin. 
 
 ' What was that? " asked Romashov. 
 
 Captain Sliva made a contemptuous gesture with 
 his hand. 
 
 " At that time we did nothing but read Aragonski 's 
 ' Instructions in .Shooting.' One day it so happened 
 that one of the men had to pass an examination 
 in the Creed. When the soldier got to the clause 
 ' suffered under Pontius Pilatus,' there was a full 
 stop. But the fellow did not lose his head, but 
 went boldiy on with a lot of appropriate excerpts 
 from Aragonski's ' Instructions in Shooting,' and' 
 came out with flying colours. Ah, you may well 
 believe, those were grand times for idiocy. Things
 
 THE DUEL 163 
 
 went so far that the first finger was not allowed 
 to retain its good old name, but was called the 
 ' trigger finger/ etc., etc." 
 
 " Do you remember, Athanasi Kirillich", what 
 cramming and theorizing ' range,' elevation, etc. 
 went on from morning to night? If you gave the 
 soldier a rifle and said to him : ' Look down the 
 barrel . What do you see there ? ' you got for an 
 answer : ' I see a tense line which is the gun's axis,' 
 etc. And what practice in shooting there was in 
 those days, you remember, Athanasi Kirillich ! " 
 
 " Do I remember ! The shooting in our division 
 was the talk of the whole country, ah, even the 
 foreign newspapers had stories about it. At the 
 shooting competitions regiments borrowed ' crack ' 
 shots from each other. Down at the butts stood 
 young officers hidden behind a screen, who helped 
 the scoring by their revolvers. On another occasion 
 it so happened that a certain company made more 
 hits in the target than could be accounted for by 
 the shots fired, whereupon the ensign who was 
 marking got severely ' called over the coals.' ' 
 
 " Do you recollect the Schreiberovsky gymnastics 
 in Slesarev's time?" 
 
 " Rather ! It was like a ballet. Ah, may the 
 devil take all those old Generals with their hobbies 
 and eccentricities. And yet, gentlemen, all that sort 
 of thing all the old-time absurdities, were as nothing 
 compared with what is done in our days. It might 
 be well said that discipline has received its quietus. 
 The soldier, if you please, is now to be treated 
 ' humanely.' He is our ' fellow-creature,' our 
 ' brother ' .; his ' mind is to be developed,' he is 
 to be taught ' to think,' etc., etc. What absolute 
 madness I No, he shall have a thrashing, the 
 scoundrel. And oh, my saintly Suvorov, tell me
 
 1 64 THE DUEL 
 
 if a single individual nowadays knows how a soldier 
 ought to be treated, and what one should teach him. 
 Nothing but new-fangled arts and rubbish. That 
 invention in regard to cavalry charges, for instance." 
 
 " Yes, one might have something more amusing," 
 Viatkin chimed in. 
 
 " There you stand," continued Sliva, " in the 
 middle of the field, like a decoy-bird, and the 
 Cossacks rush at you in full pelt. Naturally, like a 
 sensible man, you make room for them in good time. 
 Directly after comes : ' You have bad nerves, 
 Captain ; one should not behave in that way in the 
 army. Be good enough to recollect that,' etc., etc., 
 in the same style." 
 
 " The General in command of the K Regi- 
 ment," interrupted Viatkin, " once had a brilliant idea. 
 He had a company marched to the edge of an awful 
 cesspool, and then ordered the Captain to order the 
 men to lie down. The latter hesitated for an instant, 
 but obeyed the command. The soldiers were chap- 
 fallen, gazing at one another in a questioning way. 
 All thought they had heard incorrectly ; but they 
 got their information right enough. The General 
 thundered away at the poor Captain in the presence 
 of all . ' What training do you give your company ? 
 Miserable lot of weaklings. Pretty heroes to take 
 into the field. No, you are cravens, every one of you, 
 and you, Captain, not the least among them. March 
 to arrest.' ' 
 
 "That 'takes the cake,' 1 laughed Lbov. 
 
 " And what's the use of it? First one insults the 
 officers in the presence of the men, and then com- 
 plaints are made of lack of discipline. But to give 
 a scamp his deserts is a thing one dare not do. He 
 is, if you please, a ' human being,' a ' personage ',,; 
 but in the good old times there were no ' personages '
 
 THE DUEL 1 6s 
 
 in the army. Then the cattle got what they needed, 
 and then there was the Italian Campaign, Sebastopol, 
 and several other trifles. Well, all the same thing, 
 so far as I am concerned. I'll do my duty even if it 
 costs me my commission, and as far as my arm 
 reaches every scoundrel shall get his deserts." 
 
 " There's no honour in striking a soldier," ex- 
 claimed Romashov, in a muffled voice. Up to this 
 he had been merely a silent listener. " One can't 
 hit a man who is not allowed to raise a hand in 
 self-defence. It is as cowardly as it is cruel." 
 
 Captain Sliva bestowed on Romashov an annihi- 
 lating look, pressed his underlip against his little 
 grey, bristling moustache, and at length exclaimed, 
 with an expression of the deepest contempt 
 
 11 Wha-at's that?" 
 
 Romashov stood as white as a corpse, his pulse 
 beat violently, and a cold shudder ran through his 
 body. 
 
 " I said that such a method of treatment was 
 cruel and cowardly, and I retain my opinion," 
 answered Romashov nervously, but without flinching. 
 
 " You don't say so ! " twittered Sliva. " Listen 
 to my young cockerel. Should you, against all 
 likelihood, be another year with the regiment, you 
 shall be provided with a muzzle. That you may 
 rely on. Thank God, I know how to deal with such 
 germs of evil. Don't worry yourself about that." 
 
 Romashov fearlessly directed at him a glance of 
 hatred, straight in his eyes, and said, almost in a 
 whisper 
 
 " If ever I see you maltreat a soldier I will report 
 it at once to the commander of the regiment." 
 
 "What, do you dare?" shrieked Sliva in a 
 threatening voice, but checked himself instantly. 
 " Enough of this," he went on to say dryly.; " you
 
 i66 THE DUEL 
 
 ensigns are a little too young to teach veterans who 
 have smelt powder, and who have, for more than 
 a quarter of a century, served their Tsar without 
 incurring punishment. Officers, return to your 
 respective posts." 
 
 Captain Sliva turned his back sharply on the 
 officers and went away. 
 
 "Why do you poke your nose into all that?" 
 asked Viatkin as he took Romashov by the arm 
 and left the place. " As you know, that old plum ! 
 isn't one of the sweetest ; besides, you don't know 
 him yet as well as I do. Be careful what you are 
 about ; he is not to be played with, and some fine 
 day he'll put you in the lock-up in earnest." 
 
 " Listen, Pavel Pavlich," cried Romashov, with 
 tears of rage in his voice. " Do you think views 
 such as Captain Sliva 's are worthy of an officer? 
 And is it not revolting that such old bags of bones 
 should be suffered to insult their subordinates with 
 impunity? Who can put up with it in the 
 long run? " 
 
 " Well, yes to a certain extent you are right," 
 replied Viatkin, in a tone of indifference. The rest 
 of what he thought of saying died away in a gape, 
 and Romashov continued, in increasing excitement 
 
 " Tell me, what is the use of all this shouting and 
 yelling at the men ? I never could imagine when 
 I became an officer that such barbarism was tolerated 
 in our time in a Russian regiment. Ah 1 never 
 shall I forget my first impressions and experiences 
 here. One incident remains very clearly graven in 
 my memory. It was the third day after my arrival 
 here. I was sitting at mess in company with that 
 red-haired libertine, Artschakovski . I addressed 
 him in conversation as ' lieutenant,' because he called 
 
 1 Sliva is the Russian for plum.
 
 THE DUEL 167 
 
 me ' sub -lieutenant.' Suddenly he began showering 
 insults and abuse on me. Although we sat at the 
 same table and drank ale together, he shouted at 
 me : ' In the first place, I am not lieutenant to you, 
 but Mr. Lieutenant, and, secondly, be good enough 
 to stand up when you are speaking to your superior.' 
 And there I stood in the room, like a schoolboy 
 under punishment, until Lieutenant-Colonel Liech 
 came and sat between us. No, no, pray don't say 
 anything, Pavel Pavlich. I am just sick of all that 
 goes on here."
 
 XI 
 
 THE 22nd of April was for Romashov not only an 
 uncomfortable and tiresome day, but a very remark- 
 able one. At 10 a.m., before Romashov had got 
 out of bed, Nikolaiev's servant, Stepan, arrived with 
 a letter from Alexandra Petrovna. 
 
 MY DEAR ROMOTCHKA (she wrote), I should not be in the least 
 surprised if you have forgotten that to-day is my name-day, of which 
 I also take the liberty to remind you. And in spite of all your trans- 
 gressions, I should like to see you at my house to-day. But don't 
 come at the conventional hour of congratulation, but at 5 p.m. We 
 are going to a little picnic at Dubetschnaia. Yours, 
 
 A. N. 
 
 The letter trembled in Romashov 's hands as he 
 read it. For a whole week he had not once seen 
 Shurochka's saucy, smiling, bewitching face ; had 
 not felt the delicious enchantment he always ex- 
 perienced in her presence. " To-day," a joyful voice 
 sang exultant in his heart. 
 
 " To-day," shouted Romashov, in a ringing voice, 
 as he jumped out of bed. " Haindn, my bath- 
 water, quick." 
 
 Hainan rushed in. 
 
 " Your Honour, the servant is waiting for an 
 answer." 
 
 " Oh* yes, of course." Romashov dropped, with 
 
 168
 
 T-HE DUEL 169 
 
 eyes wide open, on a chair. " The deuce, he is 
 waiting for a ' tip,' and I haven't a single copeck." 
 Romashov stared at his trusty servant with a look 
 of absolute helplessness. 
 
 Hainan returned his look with 1 a: broad grin of 
 delight. 
 
 '" No more have I either, your Excellency. You 
 have nothing, and I have nothing what's to be 
 done? Niche vd! " 
 
 At that moment Romashov called to mind that 
 dark spring night when he stood in the dirty road, 
 leaning against the wet, sticky fence, and heard 
 Stepan's scornful remark : "' That man hangs about 
 here every day." Now he remembered the intoler- 
 able feeling of shame he experienced at that moment, 
 and what would he not give if only he could conjure 
 up a single silver coin, a twenty :- copeck piece, 
 wherewith to stop the mouth of Shurochka's 
 messenger. 
 
 He pressed his hands convulsively against his 
 temples and almost cried from annoyance. 
 
 " Hainan," he whispered, looking shyly askance 
 at the door, " Hainan, go and tell him he shall 
 have his 'tip* to-night for certain, do you hear? 
 For certain." 
 
 Romashov was just then as hard up as it was 
 possible to be. His credit was gone everywhere 
 at mess, with the buffet proprietor, at the regi- 
 mental treasury, etc. He certainly still drew his 
 dinner and supper rations, but without sakuska. 
 He had not even tea and sugar in his room ; only 
 a tremendous tin can containing coffee grounds 
 a dark, awesome mixture which, when diluted with 
 water, was heroically swallowed every morning by 
 Romashov and his trusty servant. 
 
 With grimaces of the deepest disgust, Romashov
 
 1 70 THE DUEL 
 
 sat and absorbed this bitter, nauseous morning 
 beverage. His brain was working at high pressure 
 as to how he should find some escape from the 
 present desperate situation. First, where and how 
 was he to obtain a name-lday present for Shurochka? 
 It would be an impossibility for him to show up 
 at her house without one. And, besides, what 
 should he give her ? Sweets or gloves ? But he 1 
 did not 'know what size she wore sweets, then ? 
 But in the town the sweets were notoriously nasty, 
 therefore something else scent a fan? No, scent 
 would, he thought, be preferable. She liked " Ess 
 Bouquet," so " Ess Bouquet " it should be. More- 
 over, the expense of the evening's picnic. A trap 
 there and back, ; " tip " to Stepan, incidental ex- 
 penses. "Ah, my good Romashov, you won't do 
 it for less than ten roubles." 
 
 After this he reviewed his resources. His month's 
 pay every copeck of that was spent and receipted. 
 Advance of pay perhaps. Alas, he had tried that 
 way quite thirty times, but always with an unhappy 
 result. The paymaster to the regiment, Staff - 
 Captain Doroshenko, was known far and wide as the 
 most disobliging " swine," especially to sub -lieu- 
 tenants. He had taken part in the Turkish War, 
 and was there, alas I wounded in the most morti- 
 fying and humiliating spot in his heel. This had 
 not happened .during retreat, but on an occasion 
 when he was turning to his troops to order an 
 attack. None the less he was, on account of his 
 ill-omened wound, the object of everlasting flings 
 and sarcasms, with the result that Doroshenko, who 
 went to the campaign a merry ensign, was now 
 changed into a jealous, irritable hypochondriac. No, 
 Doroshenko would not advance a single copeck, 
 least of all to a sub -lieutenant who, with uncommon
 
 THE DUEL 171 
 
 eagerness, had long since drawn all the pay that 
 was due to him. 
 
 " But one need not hang oneself, I suppose, for 
 that," Romashov consoled himself by thinking, 
 after he had finished the foregoing meditation. 
 " One must try and borrow. Let us now take 
 the victims in turn. Well, the 1st Company, 
 Osadchi? " 
 
 Before Romashov's mind's eye appeared Osadchi's 
 peculiar but well -formed features and his heavy, 
 brutal expression. " No, anybody else in the world 
 except him. Second Company, Taliman? Ah, that 
 poor devil, who is borrowing all the year round, 
 even from the ensigns. He won't do. Take another 
 name Khutinski? " 
 
 But just at that moment a mad boyish idea crossed 
 Romashov's mind. " Suppose I go and borrow 
 money from the 'Colonel himself. What then would 
 be likely to happen? First he would be numbed 
 with horror at 'such a piece of impudence ; next 
 ,he would begin trembling with rage, then he would 
 fire, as if 'from a mortar, the words : ' Wha at ! 
 Si-lence 1 ' fj 
 
 Romashov 'burst out laughing. " How in the 
 world can a day that began so happily as this ever 
 end sadly and sorrowfully ? Yes, I don't know yet 
 how the problem is to be solved, but an inward 
 voice has told me that all will go well. Captain 
 Duvernois ? No, Duvernois is a skinflint, and, be- 
 sides, he can't bear me. I know that." 
 
 In this way he went through all the officers of 
 his company, from the first to the sixteenth, with- 
 out getting a step nearer his goal. He was just 
 about to despair 'altogether when suddenly a new 
 name sprang up in his head Lieutenant -Colonel 
 Rafalski .
 
 172 THE DUEL 
 
 " Rafalski ! What an ass I am I Hainan, my 
 coat, gloves, cap. Make haste ! " 
 
 Lieutenant -Colonel Rafalski, commander of the 
 4th Battalion, was an incorrigible old bachelor, and, 
 in addition, a most eccentric character, who was 
 called by his comrades " Colonel Brehm." He 
 associated with no one, was seen among the circle 
 of his brother officers only on occasions of ceremony, 
 i.e. at Easter and on New Year's Day, and he 
 neglected his duties to such a degree that at drill 
 he was the constant object of furious invectives 
 on the part of the higher authorities. All his time, 
 all his attention, and all his unconsumed funds of 
 love and tenderness, which he really possessed, were 
 devoted to his idolized proteges, his wild creatures 
 brutes, birds, and fishes, of which he owned almost 
 an entire menagerie. The ladies of the regiment, 
 who in the depths of their hearts were highly in- 
 censed with Rafalski for his unconcealed contempt 
 of women, used to say of him : " Such a dreadful 
 man, and what dreadful animals he keeps ! Such 
 dirtiness in his house, and, pardon the expression, 
 what a nasty smell he carries with him wherever 
 he goes." 
 
 All his savings went to the menagerie. This 
 most eccentric individual had succeeded in reducing 
 his temporal needs to a minimum. He wore a 
 cap and uniform that dated from prehistoric times, 
 he slept and 'dwelt God knows how, he shared the 
 soldiers' fare, and he ate in the 1 5th Company's 
 kitchen, towards the staff of which he displayed 
 a certain liberality. To his comrades particularly 
 the younger of them he seldom refused a small 
 loan if he was in funds, but to remain in debt to 
 " Colonel Brehm " was not regarded as comme il 
 faut, and he who did so was inevitably exposed 
 to his comrades' ridicule and contempt.
 
 THE DUEL 173 
 
 Frivolous and impudent individuals as, e.g. Lbov, 
 were occasionally not averse from extracting a few 
 silver roubles from Rafalski, and they always intro- 
 duced the business by a request to be allowed to 
 see the menagerie. This was generally an infallible 
 way to the old hermit's heart and cash -box. " Good 
 morning, Ivan Antonovich, have you got any fresh 
 animals ? Oh, how interesting I Come and show 
 us them," etc., in the same style. After this the 
 loan was a simple matter. 
 
 Romashov had many times visited Rafalski, but 
 never up to then with an ulterior motive. He 
 too was particularly fond of animals, and when 
 he was a cadet at Moscow, nay, even when he 
 was a lad, he much preferred a circus to a theatre, 
 and the zoological gardens or some menagerie to 
 either. In his dreams as a child there always 
 hovered a St. Bernard. Now his secret dream was 
 to be appointed Adjutant to a battalion so that 
 he might become the possessor of a horse. But 
 neither of his dreams was fulfilled. 
 
 The poverty of his parents proved an insuperable 
 obstacle to the realization of the former, and, as 
 far as his adjutancy was concerned, his prospects 
 were exceedingly small, as Romashov lacked the 
 most important qualifications for it, viz. a fine figure 
 and carriage. 
 
 Romashov went into the street. A warm spring 
 breeze caressed his cheeks, and the ground that 
 had just dried after the rain gave to his steps, 
 through its elasticity, a pleasant feeling of buoyancy 
 and power. Hagberry and lilac pointed and nodded 
 at him with their rich -scented bunches of blossom 
 over the street fences. A suddenly awakened joy 
 of life expanded his chest, and he felt as if he 
 was about to fly. After he had looked round the,
 
 174 THE DUEL 
 
 street and convinced himself that he was alone, 
 he took Shurochka's letter out of his pocket, read 
 it through once more, and then pressed her sig- 
 nature passionately to his lips. 
 
 " Oh, lovely sky ! Beautiful trees ! " he whis- 
 pered with moist eyes. 
 
 ' Colonel Brehm " lived at the far end of a great 
 enclosure hedged round by a green lattice -like 
 hedge. Over the gate might be read : " Ring the 
 bell. Beware of the dogs ! " 
 
 Romashov pulled the bell. The servant's sallow, 
 sleepy face appeared at the wicket. 
 ' Is the Colonel at home? " 
 " Yes. Please step in, your Honour." 
 " No. Go and take in my name first." 
 "It is not necessary. Walk in." The servant 
 sleepily scratched his thigh. " The Colonel does 
 not like standing on ceremony, you know." 
 
 Romashov strode on, and followed a sort of path 
 of bricks which led across the yard to the house. 
 A couple of enormous, mouse -coloured young bull- 
 dogs ran out of a corner, and one of them greeted 
 him with a rough but not unfriendly bark. Romas- 
 hov snapped his fingers at it, which was answered 
 in delight by awkward, frolicsome leaps and still 
 noisier barking. The other bull -dog followed closely 
 on Romashov's heels, and sniffed with curiosity be- 
 tween the folds of his cape. Far away in the court, 
 where the tender, light green grass had already 
 sprouted up, stood a little donkey philosophizing, 
 blinking in delight at the sun, and lazily twitching 
 its long ears. Here and there waddled ducks of 
 variegated hues, fowls and Chinese geese with large 
 excrescences over their bills. A bevy of peacocks 
 made their ear-splitting cluck heard, and a huge 
 turkey-cock with trailing wings and tail-feathers high
 
 THE DUEL 175 
 
 in the air was courting the favourite sultana of 
 his harem. A massive pink sow of genuine York- 
 shire breed 'wallowed majestically in a hole. 
 
 " Colonel BreJhm," dressed in a Swedish leather 
 jacket, stood at a window with his back to the 
 door, and he did not notice Romashov as the latter 
 entered the room. He was very busy with his 
 glass aquarium, into which he plunged one arm 
 up to the elbow, and he was so absorbed by this 
 'occupation that Romashov was obliged to cough 
 loudly twice before Rafalski turned round and pre- 
 sented his long, thin, unshaven face and a pair of 
 old-fashioned spectacles with tortoise-shell rims. 
 
 "Ah, ha what do I see? Sub - lieutenant 
 Romashov? Very welcome, very welcome ! " rang 
 his friendly greeting. -' Excuse my not being able 
 to shake hands, but, as you see, I am quite wet. 
 I am now testing a new siphon. I have simpli- 
 fied the apparatus, which will act splendidly. Will 
 you have some tea? v 
 
 " I am very much obliged to you, but I have 
 just breakfasted. I have come, Colonel, to -- " 
 
 " Of course you have heard the rumour that our 
 regiment is to be moved to garrison another town," 
 interrupted Rafalski, in a tone as if he had only 
 resumed a conversation just dropped. " You may 
 well imagine my despair. How shall I manage to 
 transport all my fishes ? At least half of them 
 will die on the journey. And this aquarium too ; 
 look at it yourself. Wholly of glass and a yard 
 and a half long 1 . Ah, my dear fellow " (here 
 he suddenly sprang into a wholly different train 
 of thought), " what an aquarium they have in 
 Sebastopol 1 A cistern of continually flowing sea- 
 .water, big as this room, and entirely of stone. And 
 lighted by electricity too. You stand and gaze 

 
 176 THE DUEL 
 
 down on all those wonderful fishes sturgeons, 
 sharks, rays, sea-cocks nay, God forgive me my 
 sins ! sea-cats, I mean. Imagine in your mind a 
 gigantic pancake, an arshin 1 and a half in diameter, 
 which moves and wags and behind it a tail shaped 
 like an arrow. My goodness, I istood there staring 
 for a couple of hours but what are you laugh- 
 ing at?" 
 
 " I beg your pardon, but I just noticed a little 
 white rat sitting on your shoulder." 
 
 " Oh, you little rascal I Who gave you leave ? " 
 Rafalski twisted his head and produced with his 
 lips a whistling but extraordinarily delicate sound 
 that was remarkably like the cheeping noise of a 
 rat. The little white, red -eyed beast, trembling 
 all over its body, snuggled up to Rafalski 's cheek, 
 and began groping with its nose after its master's 
 mouth and chin -tuft. 
 
 " How tame your animals are, and how well 
 they know you ! " exclaimed Romashov. 
 
 " Yes, they always know me well enough," replied 
 Rafalski. After this he drew a deep sigh and 
 sorrowfully shook his grey head. " It is unfortu- 
 nate that mankind troubles itself and knows so little 
 about animals. We have trained and tamed for 
 our use or good pleasure the dog, the horse, and 
 the cat, but how much do we knpw about the real 
 nature and being of these animals ? Now and then, 
 of course, some professor a marvel of learning 
 comes along may the devil devour them all ! and 
 talks a lot of antediluvian rubbish that no sensible 
 person either understands or has the least profit 
 from. Moreover, he gives the poor innocent beasts 
 a number of Latin nicknames as idiotic as they 
 are unnecessary, and to crown it all, he has the 
 1 Arshin = 2-33 feet.
 
 THE DUEL 177 
 
 impudence to demand to be immortalized for all 
 this tomfoolery, and pretty nearly venerated as a 
 saint. But what can he teach us, and what does 
 he know himself, of animals and their inner life? 
 No ! take any dog you like, live together with 
 it for a time, side by side, and, by the study of 
 this intelligent, reflecting creature, you will get more 
 matter for your psychology than, all the professors 
 and teachers -could dream." 
 
 " But perhaps there are works of that nature, 
 though we do not yet know them? " suggested 
 Romashov shyly. 
 
 " Books, did you say? Yes, of course, there are 
 plenty. Just glance over there. I have a whole 
 library of them." 
 
 Rafalski pointed to a long row of shelves standing 
 along the walls. " Those learned gentlemen write 
 a whole lot of clever things, and show great pro- 
 fundity in their studies. Yes, their learning is abso- 
 lutely overwhelming. What wonderful scientific 
 instruments, and what acuteness of intellect 1 But 
 all that is quite different from what I mean. Not 
 one of all these great celebrities has hit upon the 
 idea of observing carefully, only for a single day, 
 for instance, a dog or cat in its private life. And 
 yet how interesting and instructive that is. To 
 watch closely how a dog lives, thinks, intrigues, 
 makes itself happy or miserable. Just think, for 
 example, what all those clowns and showmen can 
 effect. One might sometimes think that one was 
 subjected to an extraordinary hypnosis. Never in 
 all my life shall I forget a clown I saw in the 
 hotel at Kiev a mere clown. What results might 
 have been attained by a scientifically educated in- 
 vestigator, armed with all the wonderful apparatus 
 and resources of our time ! What interesting things 
 
 12
 
 1 78 THE DUEL 
 
 one might hear about a dog's psychology, his 
 character, docility, etc. A new world of marvels 
 would be opened to human knowledge. For my 
 part, you should know that I am quite certain 
 that dogs possess a language and, moreover, a 
 very rich and developed speech." 
 
 " But, Ivan Antonovich, tell me why the learned 
 have never made such an attempt ? " asked 
 Romashov. 
 
 Rafalski replied by a sarcastic smile. 
 
 " He, he, he ! the thing is clear enough. What 
 do you suppose a dog is to such a learned ibig- 
 wig ? A vertebrate animal, a mammal, a carnivorous 
 animal, etc., and that's the end of it. Nothing 
 more. How could he condescend to treat a dog as if 
 it were an intelligent, rational being? Never. No, 
 these haughty university despots are in reality but 
 a trifle higher than the peasant who thought that 
 the dog had steam instead of a soul." 
 
 He stopped short and began snorting and 
 splashing angrily whilst he fussed and fumed with 
 a gutta-percha tube that he was trying to apply to 
 the bottom of the aquarium. Romashov summoned 
 all his courage, made a violent effort of will, and 
 succeeded in blurting out 
 
 " Ivan Antonovich, I have come on an important 
 very important business " 
 
 "Money?" 
 
 " Yes, I am ashamed to trouble you. I don't 
 require much only ten roubles but I can't promise 
 to repay you just yet." 
 
 Ivan Ajitonovich pulled his hands out of the water 
 and began slowly to dry them on a towel. 
 
 " I can manage ten roubles I have not more, 
 but these I'll lend you with the greatest pleasure. 
 You're wanting to be off, I suppose, on some spree
 
 THE DUEL 179 
 
 or dissipation? Well, well, don't be offended ; I'm 
 merely jesting. Come, let us go." 
 
 " Colonel Brehm " took Romashov through his 
 suite of apartments, which consisted of five or six 
 rooms, in which every trace of furniture and curtains 
 was lacking. Everywhere one's nose was assailed 
 by the curious, pungent odour that is always rife 
 in places where small animals are freely allowed 
 to run riot. The floors were so filthy that one 
 stumbled at nearly every step. In all the corners, 
 small holes and lairs, formed of wooden boxes, 
 hollow stubble, empty casks without bottoms, etc., 
 etc., were arranged. Trees with bending branches 
 stood in another room. The one room was intended 
 for birds, the other for squirrels and martens. All 
 the arrangements witnessed to a love of animals, 
 careful attention, and a great faculty for observation. 
 
 " Look here," Rafalski pointed to a little cage, 
 surrounded by a thick railing of barbed wire ; from 
 the semicircular opening, which was no larger than 
 the bottom of a drinking-glass, glowed two small, 
 keen black eyes. " That's a polecat, the cruellest 
 and most bloodthirsty beast in creation. You may 
 not believe me, but it's none the less true, that, in 
 comparison with it, the lion and panther are as tame 
 as lambs. When a lion has eaten his thirty-four 
 pounds or so of flesh, and is resting after his meal, 
 he looks on good-humouredly at the jackals gorging 
 on the remains of the banquet. But if that little 
 brute gets into a hen-house it does not spare a single 
 life. There are no limits to its murderous instinct, 
 and, besides, it is the wildest beast in the world 
 and the one hardest to tame. Fie, you little 
 monster." 
 
 Rafalski put his hand behind the bars, and at 
 once, in the narrow outlet to the cage, an open jaw
 
 i8o THE DUEL 
 
 with sharp, white teeth was displayed. The polecat 
 accompanied its rapid movements backwards and 
 forwards by a spiteful, cough-like sound. 
 
 "Have you ever seen such a nasty brute? And 
 yet I myself have fed it every day for a whole 
 year." 
 
 " Colonel Brehm " had now evidently forgotten 
 Romashov's business. He took him from cage to 
 cage, and showed him all his favourites, and he 
 spoke with as much enthusiasm, knowledge, and 
 tenderness of the animals' tempers and habits, as 
 if the question concerned his oldest and most inti- 
 mate friends. Rafalski's collection of animals was 
 really an extraordinarily large and fine one for a 
 private individual to own, who was, moreover, com- 
 pelled to live in an out-of-the-way and wretched 
 provincial hole. There were rabbits, white rats, 
 otters, hedgehogs, marmots, several venomous snakes 
 in glass cases, ant-bears, several sorts of monkeys, 
 a black Australian hare, and an exceedingly, fine 
 specimen of an Angora cat. 
 
 " Well, what do you say to this? " asked Rafalski, 
 as he exhibited the cat. " Isn't he charming? And 
 yet he does not stand high in my favour, for he is 
 awfully stupid much more stupid than our ordinary 
 cats." Rafalski then exclaimed hotly : " Another 
 proof of the little we know and how wrongly we 
 value our ordinary domestic animals. What do we 
 know about the cat, horse, cow, and pig? The pig 
 is a remarkably clever animal. You're laughing, 
 I see, but wait and you shall hear." (Romashov 
 had not shown the least signs of amusement.) 
 " Last year I had in my possession a wild boar 
 which invented the following trick. I had got home 
 from the sugar factory four bushels of waste, in- 
 tended for my pigs and hot-beds. Well, my big
 
 THE DUEL 181 
 
 boar could not, of course, wait patiently. Whilst 
 the foreman went to find my servant, the boar with 
 his tusks tore the bung out of the cask, and, in a 
 few seconds, was in his seventh heaven. What do 
 you say of a chap like that? But listen further " 
 Rafalski peered out of one eye, and assumed a 
 crafty expression " I am at present engaged in 
 writing a treatise on my pigs for God's sake, not 
 a whisper of this to any one. Just fancy if people 
 got to hear that a Lieutenant- Colonel in the glorious 
 Russian Army was writing a book, and one about 
 pigs into the bargain ; but the fact is, I managed 
 to obtain a genuine Yorkshire sow. Have you seen 
 her? Come, let me show you her. Besides, I have 
 down in the yard a young beagle, the dearest little 
 beast. Come ! " 
 
 " Pardon me, Ivan Antonovich," stammered 
 Romashov, " I should be only too pleased to 
 accompany you, but but I really haven't the time 
 now." 
 
 Rafalski struck his forehead with the palm of his 
 hand. 
 
 " Oh, yes, what an incorrigible old gossip I am. 
 Excuse me I'll go and get it come along." 
 
 They went into a little bare room in which there 
 was literally nothing but a low tent-bedstead which, 
 with its bottom composed of a sheet hanging down 
 to the floor, reminded one of a boat ; a little night- 
 table, and a chair without a back. Rafalski pulled 
 out a drawer of the little table and produced the 
 money. 
 
 " I am very glad to be able to help you, ensign, 
 very glad. If you please, no thanks or such 
 nonsense. It's a pleasure, you know. Look me 
 up when convenient, and we'll have a chat. 
 Good-bye."
 
 1 82 THE DUEL 
 
 When Romashov reached the street, he ran into 
 Viatkin. Pavel Pavlich's moustaches were twisted 
 up ferociously, a la Kaiser, and his regimental cap,, 
 stuck on one side in a rakish manner, lay carelessly 
 thrown on one ear. 
 
 " Ha, look at Prince Hamlet," shouted Viatkin, 
 " whence and whither? You're beaming like a man 
 in luck." 
 
 " Yes, that's exactly what I am," replied 
 Romashov smilingly. 
 
 " Ah -ah ! splendid ; come and give me a big hug." 
 
 With the enthusiasm of youth, they fell into each 
 other's arms in the open street. 
 
 " Ought we not to celebrate this remarkable event 
 by just a peep into the mess-room? " proposed 
 Viatkin. " ' Come and take a nip in the deepest 
 loneliness,' as our noble friend Artschakovski is 
 fond of saying." 
 
 " Impossible, Pavel Pavlich, I am in a hurry. 
 But what's up with you? You seem to-day as if 
 you meant kicking over the traces?" 
 
 " Yes, rather, that's quite on the cards," Viatkin 
 stuck his chin out significantly. " To-day I have 
 brought off a ' combination ' so ingenious that it 
 would make our Finance Minister green with envy." 
 
 "Really?" 
 
 Viatkin 's "combination " appeared simple enough, 
 but testified, however, to a certain ingenuity. The 
 chief rvle in the affair was played by Khaim, the 
 regimental tailor, who took from Pavel Pavlich a 
 receipt for a uniform supposed to have been de- 
 livered, but, instead of that, handed over to Viatkin 
 thirty roubles in cash. 
 
 "The best of it all is," exclaimed Viatkin, "that 
 both Khaim and I are equally satisfied with the deal. 
 The Jew gave me thirty roubles and became entitled
 
 THE DUEL 18*3 
 
 through my receipt to draw forty-five from the 
 clothing department's treasury. I am at last once 
 more in a position to chuck away a few coppers 
 at mess. A masterstroke, eh?" 
 
 " Viatkin, you're a great man, and another time 
 I'll bear in mind your ' patent.' But good-bye for 
 the present. I hope you will have good luck at 
 cards." They separated, 'but, after a minute, Viatkin 
 called out to his comrade again. Romashov stopped 
 and turned round. 
 
 "Have you been to the menagerie?" asked 
 Viatkin, with a cunning wink, making a gesture in 
 the direction of Rafalski's house. 
 
 Romashov replied by a nod, and said in a tone of 
 conviction, " Brehm is a downright good fellow the 
 best of the lot of us." 
 
 " You're right," agreed Viatkin, " bar that fright- 
 ful smell."
 
 XII 
 
 WHEN Romashov reached Nikolaiev's house about 
 five o'clock, he noticed with surprise that his happy 
 humour of the morning and confidence that the 
 day would be a success had given place to an 
 inexplicable, painful nervousness. He felt assured 
 that this nervousness had not come over him all at 
 once, but had begun much earlier in the day, though 
 he did not know when. It was likewise clear to 
 him that this feeling of nervousness had gradually 
 and imperceptibly crept over him. What did it 
 mean ? But such incidents were not new to Jiim ; 
 even from his early childhood he had experienced 
 them, and he knew, too, that he would not regain 
 his mental balance until he had discovered the cause 
 of the disturbance. He remembered, for instance, 
 how he had worried himself for a whole day, and 
 that it was not till evening that he called to mind 
 that, in the forenoon, when passing a railway cross- 
 ing, he had been startled and alarmed by a train 
 rushing past, and this had disturbed his balance. 
 Directly, however, the cause was discovered he at 
 once became happy and light-hearted. The question 
 now was to review in inverted order the events and 
 experiences of the day. vidierski's millinery shop 
 and its perfumes ; the hire and payment of Leib, 
 the best cab-driver in the town,; the visit to the
 
 THE DUEL 185 
 
 post-office to set his watch correctly.; the lovely 
 morning; Stepan? No, impossible. In Romashov's 
 pocket lay a rouble laid by for him. But what 
 could it be then? 
 
 In the street, opposite to the Nikolaievs', stood 
 three two -horse carriages, and two soldiers held 
 by the reins a couple of saddle-horses the one, 
 Olisar's, a dark-brown old gelding, newly purchased 
 from a cavalry officer ; the other Biek-Agamalov's 
 chestnut mare, with fierce bright eyes. 
 
 " I know I The letter ! " flashed through Romas- 
 hov's brain. That strange expression " in spite 
 of that "what could it mean? That Nikolaiev was 
 angry or jealous ? Perhaps mischief had been made. 
 Nikolaiev's manner had certainly been rather cold 
 lately. 
 
 " Drive on 1 " he shouted to the driver. 
 
 At that moment, though he had neither seen nor 
 heard anything, he knew that the door of the house 
 had opened, he knew it by the sweet and stormy 
 beating of his heart. 
 
 " Romochka I where are you going?" he heard 
 Alexandra Petrovna's clear, happy voice behind him. 
 
 Romashov, by a strong pull, drew the driver, 
 who was sitting opposite him, back by the girdle, 
 and jumped out of the fly. Shurochka stood in 
 the open door as if she were framed in a dark room. 
 She wore a smooth white dress with red flowers in 
 the sash. The same sort of red flowers were 
 twined in her hair. How wonderful I Romashov 
 felt instantly and infallibly that this was she, but, 
 nevertheless, did not recognke her. To him it 
 was a new revelation, radiant and in festal array. 
 
 While Romashov was mumbling his felicitations, 
 Shurochka forced him, without letting go his 
 hands, softly and with gentle violence, to enter the
 
 1 86 THE DUEL 
 
 gloomy hall with her. At the same time she uttered 
 half-aloud, in a hurried and nervous tone 
 
 " Thanks, Romochka, for coming. Ah, how much 
 I was afraid that you would plead some excuse I 
 But remember now, to-day you are to be jolly and 
 amiable. Don't do anything which will attract atten- 
 tion. Now, how absurd you are ! Directly any 
 one touches you, you shrivel up like a sensitive- 
 plant." 
 
 " Alexandra Petrovna, your letter has upset me. 
 There is an expression you make use of. ..." 
 
 " My dear boy ! what nonsense ! " she grasped 
 both his hands and pressed them hard, gazing into 
 the depths of his eyes. In that glance of hers 
 there was something which Romashov had never 
 seen before a caressing tenderness, an intensity, 
 and something besides, which he could not interpret. 
 In the mysterious depths of her dark pupils fixed 
 so long and earnestly on him he read a strange, 
 elusive significance, a message uttered in the mys- 
 terious language pf the soul. 
 
 " Please don't let us talk of this to-day ! No 
 doubt you will be pleased to hear that I have 
 been watching for you. I know what a coward 
 you are, you see. Don't you dare to look at me 
 like that, now 1 " 
 
 She laughed in some confusion and released his 
 hands. 
 
 " That will do now Romochka, you awkward 
 creature ! again you've forgotten to kiss my hand. 
 That's right 1 Now the other. But don't forget," 
 she added in a hot whisper, "" that to-'day i$ our day. 
 Tsarina Alexandra and her trusty knight, Georgi. 
 Come." 
 
 Tr One instant look here you'll allow me? It's 
 a very modest gift."
 
 THE DUEL 187 
 
 " What ? Scent ? What nonsense is this ? No, 
 forgive me ; I'm only joking. Thanks, thanks, dear 
 Romochka. Volodya," she called out loudly in an 
 unconstrained tone as she entered the room, " here 
 is another friend to join us in our little picnic." 
 
 As is always the case before dispersing for a 
 general excursion, there was much noise and con- 
 fusion in the drawing-room. The thick tobacco 
 smoke formed here and there blue eddies when met 
 by the sunbeams on its way out of the window. 
 Seven or eight officers stood in the middle of the 
 room, in animated conversation. The loudest among 
 them was the hoarse-voiced Taliman with his 
 everlasting cough. There were Captain Osadchi 
 and the two inseparable Adjutants, Olisar and Biek- 
 Agamalov ; moreover, Lieutenant Andrusevich a 
 little, lithe, and active man, who, in his sharp-nosed 
 physiognomy, resembled a rat and Sofia Pavlovna 
 Taliman, who, smiling, powdered, and painted, sat, 
 like a dressed-up doll, in the middle of the sofa, 
 between Ensign Michin's two sisters. These girls 
 were very prepossessing in their simple, home-made 
 but tasteful dresses with white and green ribbons. 
 They were both dark-eyed, black -haired, with a few 
 summer freckles on their fresh, rosy cheeks. Both 
 had dazzlingly white teeth which, perhaps from their 
 not irreproachable form arid evenness, gave the fresh 
 lips a particular, curious charm. Both were extra- 
 ordinarily like, not only each other, but also their 
 brother, although the latter was certainly not a 
 " beauty " man. Of the ladies belonging to the 
 regiment who were invited were Mrs. Andrusevich 
 a little, fat, podgy, simple, laughing woman, very 
 much addicted to doubtful anecdotes and, lastly, 
 the really pretty, but gossiping and lisping, Misses 
 Lykatschev.
 
 1 88 THE DUEL 
 
 As is always the case at military parties, the 
 ladies formed a circle by themselves. Quite near 
 them, and sitting by himself, Staff- Captain Ditz, 
 the coxcomb, was lolling indolently in an easy chair. 
 This officer, who, with his tight-laced figure and 
 aristocratic looks, strongly reminded one of the well- 
 known Fliegende Blatter type of lieutenants, had 
 been cashiered from the Guards on account of some 
 mysterious, scandalous story. He distinguished him- 
 self by his unfailing ironical confidence in his 
 intercourse with men, and his audacious boldness 
 with women, and he pursued, carefully and very 
 lucratively, card-playing on a big scale, not, how- 
 ever, in the mess-room, but in the Townsmen's 
 Club, with the civilian officials of the place, as well 
 as with the Polish landowners in the neighbourhood. 
 Nobody in the regiment liked him, but he was 
 feared, and all felt within themselves a certain rough 
 conviction that some day a terrible, dirty scandal 
 would bring Ditz's military career to an abrupt 
 conclusion. It was reported that he had a liaison 
 with the young wife of an old, retired Staff-Captain 
 who lived in the town, and also that he was very 
 friendly with Madame Taliman. It was also purely 
 for her sake he was invited to officers' families, 
 according to the curious conceptions of good tone 
 and good breeding that still hold sway in military 
 circles . 
 
 " Delighted delighted I " was Nikolai ev's greet- 
 ing as he went up to Romashov. " Why didn't 
 you come this morning and taste our pasty ? " 
 
 Nikolaiev uttered all this in a very jovial and 
 friendly tone, but in his voice and glance Romas- 
 hov noticed the same cold, artificial, and harsh 
 expression which he had felt almost unconsciously 
 lately.
 
 THE DUEL 189 
 
 " He does not like me," thought Romashov. " But 
 what is the matter with him? Is he angry or 
 jealous, or have I bored him to death ? " 
 
 " As you perhaps are aware, we had inspection of 
 rifles in our company this morning," lied Romashov 
 boldly. " When the Great Inspection approaches, 
 one is never free either Sundays or week-days, 
 you know. However, may I candidly admit that 
 I am a trifle embarrassed ? I did not know hi 
 the least that you were giving a picnic. I invited 
 myself, so to speak. And truly, I feel some 
 qualms " 
 
 Nikolaiev smiled broadly, and clapped Romashov 
 on the shoulder with almost insulting familiarity. 
 
 " How you talk, my friend ! The more the 
 merrier, and we don't want any Chinese ceremonies 
 here. But there is one awkward thing I mean, 
 will there be sufficient carriages? But we shall be 
 able to manage something." 
 
 " I brought my own trap," said Romashov, to 
 calm him, whilst he, quite unnoticeably, released 
 his shoulder from Nikolaiev 's caressing hand, " and 
 I shall be very pleased to put it at your service." 
 
 Romashov turned round and met Shurochka's eye. 
 " Thank you, my dear," said her ardent, curiously 
 intent look. 
 
 " How strange she is to-day,' 1 thought Romashov. 
 
 " That's capital ! " Nikolaiev looked at his 
 watch. " What do you say, gentlemen ; shall we 
 start? " 
 
 " ' Let us start,' said the parrot when the cat 
 dragged it out of its cage by the tail," said Olisar 
 jokingly. 
 
 All got up, noisy and laughing. The ladies went 
 in search of their hats and parasols, and began 
 to put on their gloves. Taliman, who suffered
 
 190 THE DUEL 
 
 from bronchitis, croaked and screamed that, above 
 everything, the company should wrap up well ; but 
 his voice was drowned in the noise and confusion. 
 Little Michin took Romashov aside and said to 
 him 
 
 ' Yuri Alexievich, I have a favour to ask you. 
 Let my sisters ride in your carriage, otherwise Ditz 
 will come and force his society on them a thing I 
 would prevent at any price. He is in the habit 
 of conversing with young girls in such a way that 
 they can hardly restrain their tears of shame and 
 indignation. I am not, God knows ! a man fond 
 of violence, but some day I shall give that scoundrel 
 what he deserves." 
 
 Romashov would naturally have much liked to 
 ride with Shurochka, but Michin had always been 
 his friend, and it was impossible to withstand the 
 imploring look of those clear, true-hearted eyes. 
 Besides, Romashov was so full of joy at that 
 moment that he could not refuse. 
 
 At last, after much noise and fun, they were all 
 seated in the carriages. Romashov had kept his 
 word, and sat stowed away between the two Michin 
 girls. Only Staff -Cap tain Lieschtschenko, whose 
 presence Romashov now noticed for the first time, 
 kept wandering here and there among the carriages 
 with a countenance more doleful and woebegone 
 than ever. All avoided him like the plague. At 
 last Romashov took pity and called to him, and 
 offered him a place on the box-seat of his trap. 
 The Staff- Captain thankfully accepted the invitation, 
 fixed on Romashov a long, grateful look from sad, 
 moist dog's eyes, and climbed up with a sigh to 
 the box. 
 
 They started. At their head rode Olisdr on his 
 lazy old horse, repeatedly performing clown tricks,
 
 THE DUEL 
 
 and bawling 1 out a hackneyed operetta air : " Up 
 on the roof of the omnibus," etc. 
 
 " Quick march ! " rang Osadchi's stentorian 
 voice. The cavalcade increased its pace, and 
 was gradually lost sight of amidst the dust of the 
 high road.
 
 XIII 
 
 THE picnic gave no promise of being anything 
 like so pleasant arid cheerful as one might have 
 expected from the party's high spirits at the start. 
 After driving three versts, they halted and got out 
 at Dubetschnaia. By this nahie was designated 
 a piece of ground hardly fifteen dessyatins in 
 extent, which, sparsely covered with proud, century - 
 old oaks, slowly slanted down towards the strand 
 of a little river. Close thickets .of bushes were 
 arrayed beside the mighty trees, and these, here 
 and there, formed a charming frame for the small 
 open spaces covered by the fresh and delicate 
 greenery of spring. In a similar idyllic spot in 
 the oak-woods, servants and footmen, sent on in 
 advance, waited with samovars and baskets. 
 
 The company assembled around the white table- 
 cloths spread on the grass. The ladies produced 
 plates and cold meat, and the gentlemen helped 
 them, amidst jokes and flirtations. Olisar dressed 
 himself up as a cook by putting on a couple of 
 serviettes as cap and apron. After much fun and 
 ceremony, the difficult problem of placing the guests 
 was solved, in which entered the indispensable 
 condition that the ladies should have a gentleman 
 on each side. The guests half-reclined or half-sat 
 in rather uncomfortable positions, which was appre- 
 ciated by all as being 1 something new and interesting, 
 
 192
 
 THE DUEL 193 
 
 and which finally caused the ever-silent Liescht- 
 schenko to astonish those present, amidst general 
 laughter, by the following famous utterance : " Here 
 we lie, just like the old Greek Romans." 
 
 Shurochka had on one side Taliman, on the 
 other side Romashov. She was unusually cheerful 
 and talkative, nay, sometimes in such high spirits 
 that the attention of many was called to it. 
 Romashov had never "found her so bewitching 
 before. He thought he noticed in her something 
 new, something emotional and passionate, which 
 feverishly sought an outlet. Sometimes she turned 
 without a word to Romashov and gazed at him 
 intently for half a second longer than was strictly 
 proper, and he felt then that a force, mysterious, 
 consuming, and overpowering, gleamed from her 
 eyes. 
 
 Osadchi, who sat by himself at the end of the 
 improvised table, got on his knees. After 
 tapping his knife against the glass and requesting 
 silence, he said, in a deep bass voice, the heavy 
 waves of sound from which vibrated in the pure 
 woodland air 
 
 " Gentlemen, let us quaff the first beaker in 
 honour of our fair hostess, whose name-day it is. 
 May God vouchsafe her every good and the rank 
 of a General's consort." 
 
 And after he had raised the great glass, he 
 shouted with all the force of his powerful voice 
 
 " Hurrah ! " 
 
 It seemed as if all the trees in the vicinity sighed 
 and drooped under this deafening howl, which re- 
 sembled the thunder's boom and the lion's roar, 
 and the echo of which died away between the oaks' 
 thick trunks. Andrusevich, who sat next to 
 Osadchi, fell backwards with a comic expression of
 
 194 THE DUEL 
 
 terror, and pretended to be slightly deaf during 
 the remainder of the banquet . The gentlemen got 
 up and clinked their glasses with Shurochka's. 
 Romashov purposely waited to the last, and she 
 observed it. Whilst Shurochka turned towards him, 
 she, silently and with a passionate smile, held for- 
 ward her glass of white wine. In that moment 
 her eyes grew wider and darker, and her lips 
 moved noiselessly, just as if she had clearly 
 uttered a certain word ; but, directly afterwards, 
 she turned round laughing to Taliman, and began 
 an animated conversation with him. ' { What did 
 she say?" thought Romashov. "What word was 
 it that she would not or dared not say aloud?" 
 He felt nervous and agitated, and, secretly, he 
 made an attempt to give his lips the same form 
 and expression as he had just observed with 
 Shurochka, in order, by that means, to guess what 
 she said; but it was fruitless. "Romochka?" 
 " Beloved? " " I love? " No, that wasn't it. Only 
 one thing he knew for certain, viz., that the mys- 
 terious word had three syllables. 
 
 After that he drank with Nikolaiev, and wished 
 him success on the General Staff, as if it were a 
 matter of course that Nikolaiev would pass his 
 examination. Then came the usual, inevitable toasts 
 of '- the ladies present," of " women in general," 
 the " glorious colours of the regiment," of the 
 " ever-victorious Russian Army," etc. 
 
 Now up sprang Taliman, who was already very 
 elevated, and screamed in his hoarse, broken 
 falsetto, " Gentlemen, I propose the health of our 
 beloved, idolized sovereign, for whom 1 we are all 
 ready at any time to sacrifice our lives to the last 
 drop of our blood." 
 
 At the last words his voice failed him com-
 
 THE DUEL 195 
 
 pletely. The bandit. look in his dark brown, gipsy 
 eyes faded, and tears moistened his brown cheeks. 
 
 " The hymn to the Tsar," shouted little fat 
 Madame Andrusevich. All arose. The officers 
 raised their hands to the peaks of their caps. 
 Discordant, untrained, exultant voices rang over the 
 neighbourhood, but worse and more out of tune 
 than all the rest screamed the sentimental Staff- 
 Captain Lieschtschenko, whose expression was even 
 more melancholy than usual. 
 
 They now began drinking hard, as, for the matter 
 of that, the officers always did when they for- 
 gathered at mess, at each other's homes, at excur- 
 sions and picnics, official dinners, etc. All talked 
 at once, and individual voices could no longer be 
 distinguished. Shurochka, who had drunk a good 
 deal of white wine, suddenly leaned her head near 
 Romashov. Her cheeks and lips glowed, and the 
 dark pupils of her beaming eyes had now attained 
 an almost black hue. 
 
 " I can't stand these provincial picnics," she ex- 
 claimed. " They are always so vulgar, mean, and 
 wearisome. I was, of course, obliged to give a 
 party before my husband started for his examination, 
 but, good gracious I why could we not have stayed 
 at home and enjoyed ourselves in our pretty, 
 shady garden? Such a stupid notion. And yet 
 to-day, I don't know why, I am so madly happy. 
 Ah, Romochka, I know the reason ; I know it, and 
 will tell you afterwards. Oh, no I No, no, 
 Romochka, that is not true. I know nothing 
 absolutely nothing." 
 
 Her beautiful eyes were half -closed, and her face, 
 full of alluring, promising, and tormenting im- 
 patience, had become shamelessly beautiful, and 
 Romashov, though he hardly understood what it
 
 196 THE DUEL 
 
 meant, was instinctively conscious of the passionate 
 emotion which possessed Shurochka and felt a sweet 
 thrill run down his arms and legs and through 
 his heart. 
 
 11 You are so wonderful to-day has anything 
 happened?" he asked in a whisper. 
 
 She answered straightway with an expression of 
 innocent helplessness. " I have already told you 
 I don't know I can't explain it. Look at the 
 sky. It's blue, but why? It is the same with 
 me. Romochka, dear boy, pour me out some more 
 wine." 
 
 At the opposite side of the tablecloth an exciting 
 conversation was carried on with regard to the 
 intended war with Germany, which was then 
 regarded by many as almost a certainty. Soon 
 an irritable, senseless quarrel arose about it, which 
 was, however, suddenly interrupted by Osadchi's 
 furious, thundering, dictatorial voice. He was 
 almost drunk, but the only signs of it were the 
 terrible pallor of his handsome face and the lowering 
 gaze of his large black eyes. 
 
 " Rubbish 1" he screamed wildly. "What do 
 you really mean by war nowadays? War has been 
 spoilt, transmogrified, and everything else, for the 
 matter of that. Children are born idiots, women 
 are stunted, badly brought -up creatures, and men 
 have nerves. ' Ugh, blood, blood I Oh, I shall 
 faint,' " he imitated in an insulting, mockingly pitiful 
 tone. " And all this only because the real, fero- 
 cious and merciless character of war has changed. 
 Now, can this be called war when you fire a couple 
 of shots at the enemy at a distance of fifteen versts, 
 and then return home in triumph as a hero ? Pretty 
 heroes I You are taken prisoner, and then they 
 say to you : ' My poor friend, how are you? Are
 
 THE DUEL 197 
 
 you cold? Would you like a cigarette? Are you 
 quite comfortable? ' Damn it all ! " Osadchi gave 
 vent to a few inarticulate roars and lowered his 
 head like a mad bull ready to attack. " In the 
 Middle Ages, gentlemen, things were quite different. 
 Night attacks storming ladders and naked weapons 
 murder and conflagration everywhere. ' Soldiers, 
 the town is yours for three days.' The slaughter 
 begins, torch and sword perform their office ; in 
 the streets streams of blood and wine. Oh, glorious 
 festival of brave men amidst bleeding corpses and 
 smoking ruins, beautiful, naked, weeping women 
 dragged by their hair to the victor's feet." 
 
 " Anyhow, you haven't changed much," inter- 
 rupted Sofia Pavlovna Taliman jokingly. 
 
 " All the town a river of fire, the tempest 
 sporting at night with the bodies of hanged men ; 
 vultures shriek and the victor lords it by the camp- 
 fires beneath the gallows tree. Why take prisoners 
 and waste time and strength for them? Ugh 1 " 
 Osadchi, with teeth clenched, groaned like a wild 
 beast. " Grand and glorious days 1 What fights ! 
 Eye to eye and chest to chest. An uninterrupted 
 slaughter for hours, till the cold-blooded tenacity 
 and discipline of one party, coupled with invincible 
 fury, brought victory. And what fights then I What 
 courage, what physical strength, and what superior 
 dexterity in the use of weapons 1 Gentlemen " 
 Osadchi arose in all his gigantic stature and in 
 his terrible .voice insolence and cold-bloodedness 
 reigned " gentlemen, I know that from your mili- 
 tary colleges have issued morbid, crazy phrases 
 about what's called ' humanity in war,' etc., etc. 
 But I drink at this moment even if I am to drain 
 my glass by myself to the wars of bygone days 
 and the joyful, bloody cruelty of old times."
 
 198 THE DUEL 
 
 All were silent, hypnotized and cowed by this 
 unexpected horrible ecstasy of an otherwise reserved 
 and taciturn man, whom they now regarded with 
 a feeling of terror and curiosity. At that moment 
 Biek-Agamalov jumped up from where he was 
 sitting. He did this so quickly and suddenly that 
 he alarmed .several who were present, and one of 
 the ladies uttered a cry of terror. His widely 
 staring eyes flashed wildly, and his white, clenched 
 teeth resembled a beast of prey's. He seemed to 
 be nearly stifled, and he could not find words. 
 
 '-' Oh, see 1 here's one who understands and re- 
 joices at ,what you have said. Ugh I " With con- 
 vulsive energy, nay, almost furiously, he grasped 
 and shook Osadchi's hand. " To ,hell with all 
 these weak, cowardly, squeamish wretches ! Out 
 with the sabre and hew them! down I " 
 
 His bloodshot eyes sought an object suitable as 
 a vent for his flaming rage. His naturally cruel 
 instincts had at this moment thrown off their mask. 
 Like a madman he slashed at the oak -copse with 
 his naked sword. Mutilated branches and young 
 leaves rained xiown on the tablecloth and guests. 
 
 " Lieutenant Biek I Madman ! Are you out of 
 your mind? " screamed the ladies. 
 
 Biek-Agamalov pulled himself together and re- 
 turned to his place, visibly much ashamed of his 
 barbaric behaviour ; but his delicate nostrils rose 
 and fell with his quick breathings, and his black 
 eyes, wild with suppressed rage, looked loweringly 
 and defiantly at the company. 
 
 Romashov had heard, and yet not heard, Osadchi's 
 speech. He felt, as it were, stupefied! by a nar- 
 cotic, but celestially delightful, intoxicating drink, 
 and he .thought that a, warm spider, as soft as 
 velvet, had been spinning softly and cautiously round
 
 THE DUEL 199 
 
 him with its web, and gently tickled his body till he 
 almost died of an inward, exultant laughter. His 
 hand lightly brushed and each time as though 
 unintentionally Shurochka's arm, but neither she 
 nor he attempted to look at each other. Romashov 
 was quite lost in the land of dreams, when the 
 sound of Biek-Agamalov's and Osadchi's voices 
 reached him, but as though they came from a 
 distant, fantastic mist. The actual words he could 
 understand, but they seemed to him empty and 
 devoid of any intelligent meaning. 
 
 " Osadchi is a cruel man and he does not like 
 me," thought Romashov. " Osadchi's wife is a 
 creature to be pitied small, thin, and every year 
 in an interesting condition. He never takes her out 
 with him. Last year a young soldier in Osadchi's 
 company hanged himself Osadchi ? Who is this 
 Osadchi? See now, Biek, too, is shrieking and 
 making a row. Wha,t sort of a man is he? Do I 
 know him ? Ah, of course I know him, and yet he 
 is so strange to me, so wonderful and incompre- 
 hensible. But who are you who are sitting beside 
 me? from whom such joy and happiness beam 
 that I am intoxicated with this happiness. There 
 sits Nikolaiev opposite me. He looks displeased, 
 and sits there in silence all the time. He glances 
 here as if accidentally, and his eyes glide over 
 me with cold contempt. He is, methinks, much 
 embittered. Well, I have no objection may he 
 have his revenge ! Oh, my delicious happiness 1 *' 
 
 It began to grow dark. , The lilac shadows of 
 the trees stole slowly over the plain. The youngest 
 Miss Michin suddenly called out 
 
 " Gentlemen, where are the violets? Here on 
 this very spot they are said to grow in profusion. 
 Come, let us find some and gather them."
 
 200 THE DUEL 
 
 ' It's too late," some one objected. " It's im- 
 possible to see them in, the grass now." 
 
 " Yes, it , is easier to lose a thing now 
 than to find it," interposed Ditz, with a cynical 
 laugh. 
 
 ' Well, anyhow, let us light a bonfire," proposed 
 Andrusevich. 
 
 They at once set about eagerly collecting and 
 forming into a pile an enormous quantity of dry 
 branches, twigs, and leaves that had been lying there 
 from last year. The bonfire was lighted, and a 
 huge pillar of merrily -crackling, sparkling flame 
 arose against the sky. At the same instant, as 
 though terror-stricken, the last glimpse of daylight 
 left the place a prey to the darkness which swiftly 
 arose from the forest gloom. Purple gleaming 
 spots shyly trembled in the oaks' leafy crests, and 
 the trees seemed at one time to hurry forward 
 with curiosity in the full illumination from the fire, 
 at another time to hasten as quickly back to the dark 
 coverts of the grove. 
 
 All got up from their places on the grass. The 
 servants lighted the candles in the many -coloured 
 Chinese lanterns. The young officers played and 
 raced like schoolboys. Olisar wrestled with Michin, 
 and to the astonishment of all the insignificant, 
 clumsy Michin threw his tall, well-built adversary 
 twice in succession on his back. After this the 
 guests began leaping right across the fire. Andruse- 
 vich displayed some of his tricks. At one time he 
 imitated the noise of a fly buzzing against a window, 
 at another time he showed how a poultry -maid 
 attempted to catch a fugitive cock, lastly, he dis- 
 appeared in the darkness among the bushes, from 
 which was heard directly afterwards the sharp rustle 
 of a saw or grindstone. Even Ditz condescended
 
 THE DUEL 201 
 
 to show his dexterity, as a juggler, with empty 
 bottles. 
 
 " Allow me, ladies and gentlemen," cried Tali- 
 man, " to perform a little innocent conjuring trick. 
 This is no question of a marvellous witchcraft, but 
 only quickness and dexterity. I will ask the dis- 
 tinguished audience to convince themselves that I 
 have not hidden anything in my hands or coat- 
 sleeves. Well, now we begin, one, two, three hey, 
 presto ! " 
 
 With a rapid movement, and, amidst general 
 laughter, he took from his pocket two new packs 
 of cards, which, with a little bang, he quickly and 
 deftly freed from their wrapper. 
 
 " Preference, gentlemen," he suggested. " A little 
 game, if you like, in the open air. How would that 
 do, eh? '' 
 
 Osadchi, Nikolaiev, and Andrusevich sat down 
 to cards, and with a deep and sorrowful sigh, 
 Lieschtschenko stationed himself, as usual, behind 
 the players. Nikolaiev refused to join the game, 
 and stood out for some time, but gave way at last. 
 As he sat down he looked about him several times 
 in evident anxiety, searching with his eyes for 
 Shurochka, but the gleam of the fire blinded him, 
 and a scowling, worried expression became fixed 
 on his face. 
 
 Romashov pursued a narrow path amongst the 
 trees. He neither understood nor knew what was 
 awaiting him, but he felt in his heart a vaguely 
 oppressive but, nevertheless, delicious anguish whilst 
 waiting for something that was to happen. He 
 stopped. Behind him he heard a slight rustling of 
 branches, and, after that, the sound of quick steps 
 and the frou-frou of a silken skirt. Shurochka 
 was approaching him with hurried steps. She re-
 
 202 THE DUEL 
 
 sembled a dryad when, in her white dress, she 
 glided softly forth between the dark trunks of the 
 mighty oaks. Romashov went up and embraced 
 her without uttering a word. Shurochka was breath- 
 ing heavily and in gasps. Her warm breath often 
 met Romashov's cheeks and lips, and he felt beneath 
 his hand her heart's violent throbs. 
 
 " Let's sit here," whispered Shurochka. 
 
 She sank down on the grass, and began with 
 both hands to arrange her hair at the back. Romas- 
 hov laid himself at her feet, but, as the ground 
 just there sloped downwards, he saw only the soft 
 and delicate outlines of her neck and chin. 
 
 Suddenly she said to him in a low, trembling 
 voice 
 
 44 Romochka, are you happy? " 
 
 4 Yes happy," he answered. Then, after review- 
 ing in his mind, for an instant, all the events of that 
 day, he repeated fervently : 4< Oh, yes so happy, 
 but tell me why you are to-day so, so? . . ." 
 
 4 'So? What do you mean?" 
 
 She bent lower towards him, gazed into his eyes, 
 and all her lovely countenance was for once visible 
 to Romashov. 
 
 44 Wonderful, divine Shurochka, you have never 
 been so beautiful as now. There is something 
 about you that sings and shines something new 
 and mysterious which I cannot understand. But, 
 Alexandra Petrovna, don't be 'angry now at the 
 question. Are you not afraid that some one may 
 come? " 
 
 She smiled without speaking, and that soft, low, 
 caressing laugh aroused in Romashov's heart a 
 tremor of ineffable bliss. 
 
 44 My dearest Romochka my good, faint-hearted, 
 simple, timorous Romochka have I not already told
 
 THE DUEL 203 
 
 you that this day is ours? Think only of that, 
 Romochka. Do you know why I am so brave and 
 reckless to-day? No, you do not know the reason. 
 Well, it's because I am in love with you to-day 
 nothing else. No, no don't, please, get any false 
 notions into your head. To-morrow it will have 
 passed." 
 
 Romashov tried to take her in his arms. 
 
 " Alexandra Petrovna Shurochka Sascha," * he 
 moaned beseechingly. 
 
 " Don't call me Shurochka do you hear? I 
 don't like it. Anything but that. By the way," 
 she stopped abruptly as if considering something, 
 " what a Charming name you have Georgi. It's 
 much prettier than Yuri oh, much, much, much 
 prettier. Georgi," she pronounced the name slowly 
 with an accent on each syllable as though it afforded 
 her delight to listen to the sound of every letter 
 in the word. " Yes, there is a proud ring about 
 that name." 
 
 " Oh, my beloved," Romashov exclaimed, inter- 
 rupting her with passionate fervour. 
 
 " Wait and listen. I dreamt of you last night 
 a wonderful, enchanting dream. I dreamt we were 
 dancing together in a very remarkable room. Oh, 
 I should at any time recognize that room in its 
 minutest details. It was lighted by a red lamp 
 that shed its radiance on handsomle rugs, a bright 
 new cottage piano, and two windows with drawn 
 red curtains. All within was re^d. An invisible 
 orchestra played, wie danced close -folded in each 
 other's arms. No, no. It's only in dreams that 
 one can come so intoxicatingly clos,e to the object 
 of one's love. Our feet did not touch the floor ; 
 we hovered in the air in quicker and quicker 
 
 1 Pet name for Alexandra.
 
 204 THE DUEL 
 
 circles, and this ineffably delightful enchantment 
 lasted so very, very long. Listen, Romochka, do 
 you ever fly in your dreams? " 
 
 Romashov did not answer immediately. He was 
 in an exquisitely beautiful world of wonders, at 
 the same time magic and real. And was not all 
 this then merely a dream, a fairy tale ? This warm, 
 intoxicating spring night ; these dark, silent, listen- 
 ing trees ; this rare, beautiful, white -clad woman 
 beside him. He only succeeded, after a violent 
 effort of will, in coming back to consciousness and 
 reality. 
 
 ' Yes, sometimes, but, with every passing year 
 my flight gets weaker and lower. When I was a 
 child, I used to fly as high as the ceiling, and 
 how funny it seemed to me to look down on the 
 people on the floor. They walked with their feet 
 up, and tried in vain to reach me with the long 
 broom. I flew off, mocking them with my exultant 
 laughter. But now the force in my wings is broken," 
 added Romashov, with a sigh. " I flap my wings 
 about for a few strokes, and then fall flop on the 
 floor." 
 
 Shurochka sank into a semi -recumbent position, 
 with her elbow resting on the ground and her 
 head resting in the palm of her hand. After a 
 few moments' silence she continued in an absent 
 tone 
 
 " This morning, when I awoke, a mad desire 
 came over me to meet you. So intense was my 
 longing that I do not know what would have 
 happened if you had not come. I almost think I 
 should have defied convention, and looked you up 
 at your house. That was why I told you not to 
 come before five o'clock. I was afraid of myself. 
 Darling, do you understand me now?"
 
 THE DUEL 205 
 
 Hardly half an arshin from Romashov's face 
 lay her crossed feet two tiny feet in very low shoes, 
 and stockings clocked with white embroidery in 
 the form of an arrow over the instep. With his 
 temples throbbing and a buzzing in his ears, he 
 madly pressed his eager lips against this elastic, 
 live, cool part of her body, which he felt through: 
 the stocking. 
 
 " No, Romochka stop." He heard quite close 
 above his head her weak, faltering, and somewhat 
 lazy voice. 
 
 Romashov raised his head. Once more he was 
 the fairy-tale prince in the wonderful wood. In 
 scattered groups along the whole extensive slope in 
 the dark grass stood the ancient, solemn oaks, 
 motionless, but attentive to every sound that dis- 
 turbed Nature's holy, dream -steeped slumbers. High 
 up, above the horizon and through the dense mass 
 of tree trunks and crests, one could still discern a 
 slender streak of twilight glow, not, as usual, light 
 red or changing into blue, but of dark purple 
 hue, reminiscent of the last expiring embers 
 in the hearth, or the dull flames of deep red 
 wine drawn out by the sun's rays. And as it 
 were, framed in all this silent magnificence, lay a 
 young, lovely, white-clad woman a dryad lazily 
 reclining. 
 
 Romashov came closer to her. To him it seemed 
 as if from Shurochka's countenance there streamed 
 a pale, faint radiance. He could not distin- 
 guish her eyes ; he only saw two large black 
 spots, but he felt that she was gazing at him 
 steadily. 
 
 " This is a poem, a fairy-tale a fairy-tale," he 
 whispered, scarcely moving his lips. 
 
 " Yes, my friend, it is a fairy-tale."
 
 206 THE DUEL 
 
 He began to kiss her dress ; he hid his face in 
 her slender, warm, sweet-smelling hand, and, at the 
 same time, stammered in a hollow voice 
 
 " Sascha I love you love you." 
 
 When she now raised herself somewhat up, he 
 clearly saw her eyes, black, piercing, now unnaturally 
 dilated, at another moment closed altogether, by 
 which the whole of her face was so strangely altered 
 that it became unrecognizable. His eager, thirsty 
 lips sought her mouth, but she turned away, shook 
 her head sadly, and at last whispered again and 
 again 
 
 " No, no, no, my dear, my darling not that." 
 
 " Oh, my adored one, what bliss I love you," 
 Romashov again interrupted her, intoxicated with 
 love. " See, this night this silence, and no one 
 here, save ourselves. Oh, my happiness, how I love 
 you ! " 
 
 But again she replied, " No, no," and sank back 
 into her former attitude on the grass. She breathed 
 heavily. At last she said in a scarcely audible 
 voice, and it was plain that every word cost her a 
 great effort : 
 
 " Romochka, it's a pity that you are so weak. 
 I will not deny that I feel myself drawn to you, and 
 that you are dear to me, in spite of your awkward- 
 ness, your simple inexperience of life, your childish 
 and sentimental tenderness. I do not say I love you, 
 but you are always in my thoughts, in my, dreams, 
 and your presence, your caresses set my senses, 
 my thoughts, working. But why are you always so 
 pitiable ? Remember that pity is the sister of con- 
 tempt. You see it is unfortunate I cannot look up 
 to you. Oh, if you were a strong, purposeful 
 
 man " She took off Romashov's cap and put 
 
 her fingers softly and caressingly through his soft
 
 THE DUEL 207 
 
 hair. " If you could only win fame a high 
 position " 
 
 " I promise to do so ; I will do so," exclaimed 
 Romashov, in a strained voice. " Only be mine, 
 come to me . . .all my life shall . . ." 
 
 She interrupted him with a tender and sorrowful 
 smile, of which there was an echo in her voice. 
 
 " I believe you, dear ; I believe you mean what 
 you say, and I also know you will never be able to 
 keep your promise. Oh, if I could only cherish the 
 slightest hope of that, I would abandon everything 
 and follow you. Ah, Romochka, my handsome boy, 
 I call to mind a certain legend which tells how 
 God from the beginning created every human being 
 whole, but afterwards broke it into two pieces and 
 threw the bits broadcast into the world. And ever 
 afterward the one half seeks in vain its fellow. 
 Dear, we are both exactly two such unhappy 
 creatures. With us there are so many sympathies, 
 antipathies, thoughts, dreams, and wishes in common. 
 We understand each other by means of only half 
 a hint, half a word nay, even without words. And 
 yet our ways must lie apart. Alas 1 this is now the 
 second time in my life " 
 
 "Yes, I know it." 
 
 "Has he told you this?" asked Shurochka 
 eagerly. 
 
 " No ; it was only by accident I got to know it." 
 
 They were both silent. In the sky the first stars 
 began to light up and display themselves to the 
 eye as little, trembling, emerald, sparkling points. 
 From the right you might hear a weak echo of 
 voices, laughter and the strains of a song,-; but in 
 all the rest of the wood, which was sunk in soft, 
 caressing darkness, reigned a deep, mysterious 
 silence. The great blazing pyre was not visible
 
 208 THE DUEL 
 
 from this spot in the woods, but the crests from 
 the nearest oaks now and then reflected the 
 flaming red glow that, by its rapid changes from 
 darkness to light, reminded one of distant and vivid 
 sheet-lightning. Shurochka softly and silently 
 caressed Romashov's hair and face. When he 
 succeeded in seizing her fingers between his lips, 
 she herself pressed the palm of her hand against 
 his mouth. 
 
 "I do not love my husband," she said slowly 
 and in an absent voice. " He is rough, indelicate, 
 and devoid of any trace of fine feeling. Ah, I blush 
 when I speak of it we women never forget how a 
 man first takes forcible possession of us. Besides, 
 he is so insanely jealous. Even to-day he worries 
 me about that wretched Nasanski. He forces con- 
 fessions from me, and makes the most insignificant 
 events of those times the ground for the wildest 
 conclusions. Ah shame, he has unblushingly dared 
 to put the most disgusting questions to me. Good 
 God ! all that was only an innocent, childish 
 romance, but the mere mention of Nasanski 's name 
 makes him furious." 
 
 Now and then, whilst she spoke, a nervous 
 trembling was noticeable in her voice, and her hand, 
 still continuing its caress, was thrilled, as it were, 
 by a shudder. 
 
 " Are you cold? " asked Romashov. 
 
 41 No, dear not at all," she replied gently. " The 
 night is so bewitchingly beautiful, you know." 
 Suddenly, with a burst of uncontrollable passion, 
 she exclaimed, " Oh, my beloved, how sweet to 
 be here with you." 
 
 Romashov took her hand, softly caressed the 
 delicate fingers, and said in a shy, diffident 
 tone :
 
 THE DUEL 209 
 
 " Tell me, I beg you. You have just said your- 
 self that you do not love your husband. Why, 
 then, do you live together?" 
 
 She arose with a rapid movement, sat up, and 
 began nervously to pass her hands over her fore- 
 head and cheeks, as if she had awakened from a 
 dream. 
 
 " It's late ; let us go. Perhaps they are even 
 now looking for us," she answered in a calm and 
 completely altered voice. 
 
 They got up from the grass, and both stood for 
 a while silent, listening to each other's breathings, 
 eye to eye, but with lowered gaze. 
 
 " Good-bye," she suddenly cried in a silvery 
 voice. " Good-bye, my bliss my brief bliss." 
 
 She twined her arms round his neck and pressed 
 her moist, burning-hot lips to his mouth. With 
 clenched teeth and a sigh of intense passion she 
 pressed her body to his. To Romashov's eyes the 
 black trunks of the oaks seemed to reel and softly 
 bend towards the ground, where the objects ran 
 into each other and disappeared before his eyes. 
 Time stood still . . . 
 
 By a violent jerk she released herself from his 
 arms, and said in a firm voice : 
 
 " Farewell enough. Let us go." 
 
 Romashov without a sound sank down on the 
 grass at her feet, embracing her knees, and pressing 
 his lips against her dress in long, hot kisses. 
 
 " Sascha Saschenka," he whispered, having now 
 lost all self-command, " have pity on me." 
 
 " Get up, Georgi Alexandrovich I Come they 
 might take us unawares. Let us return to the 
 others." 
 
 They proceeded on their way in the direction from 
 which they heard the sound of voices. Romashov's 
 
 14
 
 210 THE DUEL 
 
 temples throbbed, his knees gave way, and he 
 stumbled like a drunken man. 
 
 " No, I will not," Shurochka answered at last in 
 a fevered, panting voice. " I will not betray him. 
 Besides, it would be something even worse than 
 betrayal it would be cowardice. Cowardice enters 
 into every betrayal. I'll tell you the whole truth. 
 I have never deceived my husband, and I shall 
 remain faithful to him until the very moment when 
 I shall release myself from him for ever. His 
 kisses and caresses are disgusting to me, and listen, 
 now no, even before when I thought of you and 
 your kisses, I understood what ineffable bliss it 
 would be to surrender myself wholly to the man I 
 love. But to steal such a joy never. I hate deceit 
 and treacherous ways." 
 
 They were approaching the spot where the picnic 
 had taken place, and the flames from the pyre shone 
 from between the trees, the coarse, bark-covered 
 trunks of which were sharply outlined against the 
 fire, and looked as if they were molten in some 
 black metal. 
 
 "Well," resumed Romashov, " if I shake off my 
 sluggishness, if I succeed in attaining the same 
 goal as that for which your husband is striving, 
 or perhaps even something still higher would you 
 then . . .?" 
 
 She pressed her cheek hard against his shoulder, 
 and answered impetuously and passionately 
 " Yes, then, then ! " 
 
 They gained the open. All the vast, burning 
 pyre was visible ; around it a crowd of small, dark 
 figures were moving. 
 
 " Listen, Romochka, to still another last word." 
 Shurochka spoke fast, and there was a note of 
 sorrow and anguish in her voice. " I did not like
 
 THE DUEL 211 
 
 to spoil this evening for you, but now it must be 
 told. You must not call at my house any more." 
 
 He stopped abruptly before her with a look of 
 intense astonishment. " Not call? But tell me the 
 reason, Sascha. What has happened?" 
 
 " Come, come ; I don't know, but somebody is 
 writing anonymous letters to my husband. He has 
 not shown them to me, only casually mentioned 
 several things about them. The foulest and most 
 disgusting stories are being manufactured about you 
 and me. In short, I beg you not to come to us 
 any more." 
 
 " Sascha," he moaned, as he stretched out his 
 arms to her. 
 
 " O my friend, my dearest and most beloved. 
 Who will suffer more from this than I ? But it is 
 unavoidable. And listen to this, too. I ajn afraid 
 he is going to speak to you about this. I beseech 
 you, for God's sake, not to lose your temper. 
 Promise me you won't." 
 
 " That is all right ; don't be afraid," Rornashov 
 replied in a gloomy tone. 
 
 " That is all. Farewell, poor friend. Give me 
 your hand once more and squeeze mine tight, quite 
 tight, till it hurts. Oh ! good-bye, darling, 
 darling." 
 
 They separated without going closer to the fire. 
 Shurochka walked straight up the slope. Romas- 
 hov took a devious path downwards along the 
 shore. The card-playing was still going on, but 
 their absence had been remarked, and when 
 Romashov approached the fire, Ditz greeted him 
 so insolently, and with such a vulgar attack of 
 coughing in order to draw attention, that Romashov 
 could hardly restrain himself from flinging a fire- 
 brand at his face.
 
 212 THE DUEL 
 
 Directly after this he noticed that Nikolaiev left 
 his game, took Shurochka aside, and talked to her 
 for some time with angry gestures and looks iof 
 hatred. Suddenly she pulled herself together, and 
 answered him in a few words with an indescribable 
 expression of indignation and contempt on her 
 features. And that big, strong man all at once 
 shrivelled up humbly in her presence, like a whipped 
 hound which obediently goes its way, but gnashes 
 its teeth with suppressed fury. 
 
 The party broke up soon after this. The night 
 felt chilly, and a raw mist rose from ,the little river. 
 The common stock of good humour and merriment 
 had long been exhausted, and all separated, 
 weary, drowsy, and without hiding their yawns. 
 Romashov was soon once more sitting in his trap, 
 opposite the Misses Michin, but he never uttered 
 a word during the course of the journey. Before 
 his mind's eye still stood the mighty dark and silent 
 trees and the blood-red sunset over the brow of the 
 woodland hill . There, too, in the soft, scented grass, 
 he saw beside him a female shape robed in white, 
 but during all his intense, consuming pain and 
 longing, he did not fail to say of himself, 
 pathetically 
 
 " And over his handsome countenance swept a 
 cloud of sorrow."
 
 XIV 
 
 IN May the regiment went into camp, which, year 
 after year, was pitched in the same spot outside 
 the town, and not far from the railway. The 
 young officers had, whilst the camp was on, 
 according to the regulations, to live in wooden 
 barracks near their respective companies ; but 
 Romashov continued to enjoy his own dwelling in 
 the town, as the officers' barracks of the 6th 
 Company had long been in a ruinous and ,unin- 
 habitable condition, on account of there being no 
 money available for repairs. Every day he had 
 to journey four times between the town and the 
 camp. In the morning off to the camp for drill, 
 thence back to the officers' mess in the town for 
 his dinner ; after that, off to the afternoon exer- 
 cises, and, finally, at night, his last walk back to 
 his home. This fatiguing life was seriously affect- 
 ing his health. After the first fortnight he began 
 to get thin and hollow-eyed, and soon lost the fresh 
 colour of his cheeks. 
 
 Even the rest, officers as well as men, fared little 
 better. Preparations were being made for the great 
 General Review, and nobody ventured to speak of 
 fatigue or weariness. The Captains of companies 
 exhausted the utmost strength of their men by two 
 or three hours' extra drill every "day. During #41 
 
 the drill the smacking sound of ears being boxed 
 
 213
 
 214 THE DUEL 
 
 and other maltreatment was heard all over the plain. 
 More than once Romashov noticed how the Captains, 
 in a furious rage, like wild beasts, attacked the poor 
 recruits, and boxed the ears of the entire line from 
 first to last ; but, nevertheless, the " non-coms." 
 displayed the greatest cruelty. They punished with 
 unbridled rage the slightest mistake in marching 
 or manual exercise ; teeth were knocked out, drums 
 of the ears were broken, and the defenceless 
 victims were thrown down senseless. But none of all 
 these martyrs ever entertained the thought of draw- 
 ing a sword. It was just as if the whole regiment 
 had become the prey of a wild hypnosis pr had 
 been attacked by nightmare. And all these terrors 
 and sufferings were multiplied by a fearful heat, for 
 May this year was unusually hot. 
 
 Wherever you went an unnatural nervousness was 
 discernible. The most absurd quarrels would, all of 
 a sudden, break out during meals at the officers' 
 mess. They insulted each other, and sought quarrels 
 without rhyme or reason. The soldiers, with their 
 sunken cheeks and sallow eyes, looked like idiots. 
 Never, during the few hours' rest they were allowed 
 to enjoy, was a laugh heard from the tents ; never 
 a joke. At night, after bugle-call, the rank and 
 file were ordered to get into line for games and 
 singing, and with an absolutely apathetic expression 
 of voice and features they howled the old camp- 
 song 
 
 " Oh, the gallant Russian soldier, 
 Fear with him can find no place ; 
 He, when bombs are bursting round him, 
 Calls them 'brother' to their face." 
 
 Then a dance would be played on the 'harmonium, 
 and the ensign would roar out
 
 THE DUEL 21$ 
 
 *- Gregorash, Skvortzov, up and dance, you 
 hounds 1 " 
 
 The two recruits obeyed the order without a 
 murmur, but in both their song and dance there 
 lay something dead, mechanical, and resigned, at 
 which one was inclined to weep. 
 
 Only in the 5th Company were they easygoing 
 and free, and there the drills began every day an 
 hour later than the rest and were concluded an 
 hour earlier. You might have fancied that every 
 member of it had been specially chosen, for they all 
 looked lively, well-fed. The lads of the 5th 
 Company looked their officers bravely and openly 
 in the face, and the very rubashka l was worn with 
 a certain aristocratic elegance. Their commander, 
 Stelikovski a very eccentric old bachelor and com- 
 paratively rich (he drew from some unknown quarter 
 two hundred roubles every month"), was of an 
 independent character, with a dry manner, who 
 stood aloof from his comrades, and lastly, was 
 in bad odour on account of his dissolute life. 
 He attracted and hired young girls from the lower 
 class, often minors, and these he paid handsomely, 
 and sent back to their native places after the lapse 
 of a month. Corporal punishment nay, even threats 
 and insulting words were strictly forbidden in his 
 company, although, as far as that goes, there was by 
 no means any coddling of the men, who, however, 
 in appearance, and readiness, and capability, were 
 not inferior to any company of guardsmen in exist- 
 ence. Being himself masterful, cool, and self-reliant 
 in the highest degree, he was also able to implant 
 those qualities firmly in his subordinates. What, 
 in other companies, could not be attained after a 
 whole week's drill amid threats, yells, and oaths, 
 1 A light jacket worn in the hot weather,
 
 2 1 6 THE DUEL 
 
 blows and stripes, Stelikovski attained with the 
 greatest calm in a single day. He was a man of few 
 words, seldom raised his voice, and when, on occa- 
 sion, he did speak, the soldiers stood as if carved 
 in stone. Among the officers he was shunned and 
 hated, but worshipped by his men a state of things 
 that, most certainly, was unique in the whole of 
 the Russian Army. 
 
 At length the I5th of May arrived, when the 
 Great Review, ordered by the Brigadier-General, 
 was to take place. In all the companies, except 
 the 5th, the non-coms, had their men drawn up by 
 4 a.m. The poor, tortured, drowsy, gaping soldiers 
 were trembling as though with cold in their coarse 
 shirts, although the air was mild and balmy and 
 the weather serene, arid their gloomy, depressed 
 glances and sallow, greyish, chalky faces gave a 
 painful impression in the gleaming, bright summer 
 morning. 
 
 When the clock struck six, the officers began to 
 join their companies. The regiment had not to be 
 assembled and in line before 10 a.m., but, with 
 the exception of Stelikovski, not one of the Captains 
 thought of letting their poor wearied soldiers have 
 their proper sleep and gain strength for the toils 
 awaiting them that day. On the contrary, never 
 had their fussiness and zeal been greater than on 
 this morning. The air was thick with oaths, threats, 
 and insults ; ear-boxing, slaps on the mouth, kicks, 
 and blows with the fist rained down, at each slightest 
 blunder, on the miserable, utterly exhausted soldiers. 
 
 At 9 a.m. the companies marched to the parade- 
 ground, about five hundred paces in front of the 
 camp. Sixteen outposts, provided with small, 
 multi-coloured flags for signalling, were stationed in 
 an absolutely straight line about half a verst long,
 
 THE DUEL 217 
 
 so as to mark out, with mathematical accuracy, the 
 points where each company's right wing should be 
 placed at the parade past the Brigadier- General. 
 Lieutenant Kovako, who had been allotted this 
 highly important task, was, of course, one of the 
 heroes of ,the day, and, conscious o'f this, he galloped, 
 like a madman red, perspiring, and with his cap 
 on his neck backwards and forwards along the 
 line, shouting and swearing, and also belabouring 
 with his sabre the ribs of his lean white charger. 
 The poor beast, grown grey with age and having a 
 cataract in its right eye, waved its short tail con- 
 vulsively. Yes, on Lieutenant Kovako and his out- 
 posts depended the whole regiment's weal and woe, 
 for it was he who bore the awful responsibility of 
 the sixteen companies' respective " gaps " and 
 " dressing." 
 
 Precisely at ten minutes to 10 a.m., the 5th 
 Company marched out of camp. With brisk, long, 
 measured steps, that 'made the earth tremble, these 
 hundred men marched past all the other companies 
 and took their place in the line. They formed a 
 splendid, select corps ; lithe, muscular figures with 
 straight backs and brave bearing, clean, shining 
 faces, and the little peakless cap tipped coquettishly 
 over the right ear. Captain Stelikovski a little 
 thin man, displaying himself in tremendously wide 
 breeches carelessly promenaded, without troubling 
 himself in the least about the time his troops kept 
 when marching, five paces oh the side of the right 
 flank, peering amusedly, and now and then shaking 
 his head whimsically now to the right, now to the 
 left, as though to control the troops' " dressing " 
 and attention. Colonel Liech, the commander of 
 the battalion, who, like the rest of the officers, 
 had been, ever since dawn, in a state of examination-
 
 218 THE DUEL 
 
 fever and nervous irritability, rushed up to Stelikovski 
 with furious upbraidings for having " come too late." 
 The latter slowly and coolly took out his watch, 
 glanced at it, and replied in a dry, almost con- 
 temptuous tone : 
 
 " The commander of the regiment ordered me to 
 be here by ten o'clock. It still wants three minutes 
 to that hour. I do not consider I am justified in 
 worrying and exerting my men unnecessarily." 
 
 " Don't, if you please," croaked Liech, gesticu- 
 lating and pulling his reins. " I must ask you to 
 be silent when your superior officer makes a re- 
 mark." 
 
 But he only too well understood that he was 
 wrong and would get the worst of it, and he rode 
 quickly on, and visited his wrath on the 8th Com- 
 pany, whose officers had ordered the knapsacks to 
 be opened. 
 
 " What the deuce are you about ? What is this 
 foolery? Are you thinking of opening a bazaar 
 or a general shop? This is just like beginning 
 a hunt by cramming the hounds with food. Close 
 your knapsacks and put them on quickly. You 
 ought to have thought of this before." 
 
 At a quarter to eleven they began dressing the 
 companies on the lines laid down. This was for 
 all a very minute, tedious, and troublesome task. 
 Between the Echelons long ropes were tightly 
 stretched along the ground. Every soldier in the 
 front rank was obliged to see, with the most pain- 
 ful accuracy, that his toes just grazed the tightly - 
 stretched rope, for in that lay the fundamental con- 
 dition of the faultless dressing of the long front. 
 Moreover, the distance between the toes, like the 
 breadth of the gun-stock and the somewhat inclined 
 position of the upper part of the body, had to
 
 THE DUEL 219 
 
 be the same along the whole line. While anxiously 
 superintending these details the Captains often flew 
 into a towering rage. Frantic shouts and angry 
 words of command were heard everywhere : 
 " Ivanoff, more forward, you Syaroschtan, right 
 shoulder forward, left back ! " 
 
 At 10.30 a.m. the commander of the regiment 
 arrived. He rode on a powerful chestnut -brown 
 gelding with white legs. Colonel Shulgovich was 
 an imposing, almost majestic, figure on horseback. 
 He had a firm " seat," although he rode in infantry 
 style, with stirrups far too short. In greeting his 
 regiment he yelled in his tremendous voice, in which 
 a certain jubilant heroic note in honour of the 
 occasion was audible 
 
 " Good morning, my fine fellows." 
 
 Romashov, who remembered his 4th platoon and 
 especially Kliabnikov's wretched appearance, could 
 not refrain from smiling. " Pretty choice speci- 
 mens, in all truth," thought he. 
 
 The standards were unfurled amidst the strident 
 notes of the regimental band. After this came a 
 long and trying moment. Straight away to the 
 station, from which the Brigadier -General was ex- 
 pected, were posted a number of signallers who, by 
 certain arranged signs, were to prepare the regiment 
 for the approach of the Generals. More than once 
 they were disturbed by a false alarm. The loose, 
 slack ropes were once more tightened in mad haste, 
 " dressings " and " lines " were ordered, and all 
 stood for .several minutes at the most painful " atten- 
 tion," until weariness once more asserted its claims, 
 and the poor soldiers collapsed, yet, at the very last, 
 striving to keep the position of their feet, at any 
 rate, unmoved. .Out in the plain, about three 
 hundred paces off, the ladies displayed their clothes,
 
 220 THE DUEL 
 
 parasols, and Jiats of variegated and loud colours. 
 Romashov knew ,very well that Shurochka was not 
 in that bright, festive group. But every time he 
 glanced in that direction he felt, as it were, an icy- 
 cold shudder in the region of his heart, and his 
 quick, nervous breathing bore witness to a strong 
 inward excitement. 
 
 Suddenly, like a Strong gust of wind, a rumour 
 ran through the ranks, and a timorous cry was 
 heard : " He's coming ; he's coming ! " It was clear 
 to all that the important, eventful moment was 
 approaching. The soldiers, who had been since 
 dawn the victims of the prevailing excitement, 
 dressed in their ranks without orders, but with a 
 certain nervous haste, and became rigid in apparently 
 lifeless immobility. Now and then a nervous cough- 
 ing was heard. 
 
 " Ranks, attention ! " rang out Shulgovich's 
 order. 
 
 Romashov, glancing to the right, discovered, at 
 a good distance down the plain, a small but dense 
 group of horsemen who, now and then obscured for 
 an instant by a faint yellow cloud of dust, were 
 rapidly approaching the front. Shulgovich rode, 
 with a severe and solemn countenance, from his 
 place in front of the middle company, right out 
 into the plain, most certainly a good fourth further 
 than the regulations demanded. The tremendous 
 importance of the moment was reflected in his 
 features. With a gesture of noble dignity, he first 
 glanced upwards, then calmed the dark, motionless 
 mass of soldiers by a glance, withering, it is true, 
 but mingled with tremulous exultation, and then let 
 his stentorian voice roll over the plain, when com- 
 manding 
 
 " Attention ! Should er "
 
 THE DUEL 221 
 
 He purposely kept back the last syllable of that 
 longest word of command the so-called " effec- 
 tive " word, just as if an infinite power and sanctity 
 lay hidden in the pronunciation of those few wretched 
 letters. His countenance became a bluish -red, the 
 veins in his neck were strained like thick cords, 
 and, finally, the releasing word was discernible jn 
 the wild -beast-like roar 
 
 " arms ! " 
 
 One two. A thousand slamming and rattling 
 of hard blows from soldiers' "fists on the stocks of 
 their rifles, and the violent contact of locks with 
 the coarse metal clasps of belts echoed through the 
 air. At the same moment the electrifying strains 
 of the regimental march were audible from the 
 right wing. Like wild, excited, undisciplined 
 children let loose, the flutes and cornets ran riot, 
 trying by their shrill, ear -piercing voices to drown 
 the coarse bellowing of trombones and ophicleides, 
 whilst the thunder of drums and kettledrums, warn- 
 ing and threatening, exhorted frivolous, thought- 
 less young men of the consideration due to 
 the seriousness and supreme importance of the 
 moment. From the station there rang out, almost 
 like a soothing piccolo -strain, the whistle of fhe 
 engine, mingling harmoniously with the joyful music 
 of the band. 
 
 Romashov suddenly felt himself caught, as it were, 
 by a mighty, roaring wave that, irresistibly and 
 exultingly, carried him away. With a sensation 
 of joy and courage such as he had never experi- 
 enced before, his glance met the sun's gold-steeped 
 rays, and it seemed to him as if, at that moment, 
 he was, for the first time, conscious of the blue 
 sky paled by the heat, and the warm verdure of 
 the plain that disappeared in the far distance. FJOI
 
 222 THE DUEL 
 
 once he felt young and strong and eager to dis- 
 tinguish himself ; proud, too, of belonging to this 
 magnificent, motionless, imposing mass of men, 
 gathered together and quelled by an invisible, 
 mysterious will. 
 
 Shulgovich, with his sabre drawn to a level with 
 his face, rode in a ponderous gallop to meet the 
 General. 
 
 Directly the band's rough martial, triumphant 
 strains had ceased, the General's calm, musical voice 
 rang out 
 
 " Good -day, 1st Company." 
 
 The soldiers answered his salutation promptly and 
 joyfully. Again the locomotive made its voice heard, 
 but this time in the form of a, sharp, defiant signal. 
 The Brigadier -General rode slowly along the line, 
 saluting the companies in their proper order. 
 Romashov could already distinguish his heavy, obese 
 (figure with the thin linen jacket turned up in deep 
 folds across his chest and fat belly ; his big square 
 face turned towards the troops ; the gorgeous 
 saddle-cloth with his monogram embroidered in 
 bright colours, the majestic grey charger, the ivory 
 rings on the martingale, and patent-leather riding 
 
 boots . 
 
 41 Good -day, 6th Company." 
 
 The soldiers round Romashov replied with a shout 
 that was pretty nearly destructive both to throats 
 and ear-drums. The General sat his horse with 
 the careless grace of an accomplished rider. His 
 noble charger, with the gentle, steadfast glance from 
 his handsome, though slightly bloodshot eyes, 
 tugged hard at its bit, from which, now and then, 
 a few white foam -drops fell to, the ground, and 
 careered gently on with short, quick, dancing .steps. 
 
 " He's grey about the temples, but his moustache
 
 THE DUEL 223 
 
 is black dyed, perhaps," was Romashov's reflec- 
 tion just then. 
 
 Through his gold -rimmed pince-nez the General 
 answered with his dark, clever, youthful and satiri- 
 cally questioning eyes the soldiers' glances directed 
 at him. When he came up to .Romashov he touched 
 the peak of his cap with his .hand. Romashov 
 stood quite still, with every muscle 'strained in the 
 most correct attitude of " attention," and he clasped 
 the hilt of his sabre with such a hard, crushing 
 grip that it almost caused him pain. A shudder of 
 infinite, enthusiastic devotion rushed through his 
 whole being, and whilst looking fixedly at the 
 General's face, he thought to himself in his old 
 naive, childish way 
 
 ' The grey-haired old warrior's glances noted 
 with delight the young ensign's slender, well-built 
 figure." 
 
 The General continued his slow ride along the 
 front, saluting company after company. Behind him 
 moved his suite a promiscuous, resplendent group 
 of staff officers, whose 'horses shone with profuse 
 rubbing down and dressing. Romashov glanced 
 at them, too, benevolently, but not one of them 
 took the slightest notice of him. These spoilt 
 favourites of fortune had long since had more than 
 enough of parades, reviews, and the boundless 
 enthusiasm of little, insignificant infantry officers, 
 and Romashov felt in his heart a bitter, rebellious 
 feeling at the thought that these superior people 
 belonged to a world quite beyond his reach. 
 
 The band suddenly received a sign to stop play- 
 ing. The General returned at a sharp trot to the 
 right wing, and after him, in a long, variegated 
 line, his mounted suite. Colonel Shulgovich galloped 
 off to the ist Company. Pulling his reins and
 
 224 THE DUEL 
 
 throwing all his enormous body back in the saddle, 
 he yelled in a hoarse and trembling voice 
 
 " Captain Osadchi, advance company. Quick, 
 march I " 
 
 Between the commander of the regiment and 
 Captain Osadchi there was an incessant rivalry, 
 during drill hours, to outdo each other in lung 
 power, and not many seconds elapsed before the 
 latter was heard to order in his mighty, rolling 
 bass 
 
 " Company, shoulder arms I Dress in the middle. 
 Forward, march ! " Osadchi had, with fearful sacri- 
 fice of time and labour, succeeded in introducing 
 in his company a new kind of marching. This 
 consisted in the soldiers raising their foot high in 
 the air in very slow time, and afterwards putting 
 it down on the ground with the greatest possible 
 force. This wonderful and imposing manner of 
 moving along the ground excited not only much 
 interest, but also a certain envy among the other 
 captains of companies. 
 
 But the ist Company had hardly marched fifty 
 paces before they heard the General's angry and 
 impatient voice exclaim 
 
 '' .What the deuce is this ? Halt with the com- 
 pany. Halt, halt 1 Come here to me, Captain. 
 Tell me, sir, what in the name of goodness that is 
 supposed to represent. Is it a funeral or a torch 
 procession? Say. March in three-time. Listen, 
 sir, we're not living in the days of Nicholas, when 
 a soldier served for twenty -five years. How many 
 precious days have you wasted in practising this 
 corps de ballet t Answer me." 
 
 Osadchi stood gloomy, still and silent before his 
 angry chief, with his drawn sabre pointing to the 
 ground. The General was silent for an instant, and
 
 THE DUEL 225 
 
 then resumed his harangue with an expression ; of 
 sorrow and irony in his voice 
 
 " By this sort of insanity you will soon succeed 
 in extinguishing the last spark of life in your 
 soldiers. Don't you think so yourself? Oh, you 
 luckless ghosts from Ivan the Cruel's days ! But 
 enough of this. Allow me instead to ask you, 
 Captain, the name of this young lad." , 
 
 " Ignati Mikhailovich, your Excellency," replied 
 Osadchi in the dry, sepulchral, regulation voice. 
 
 :" Well and good. But what do you know about 
 him? Is he a bachelor, or has he a wife and 
 children? Perhaps he has some trouble at home? 
 Or he is very poor? Answer m'e." 
 
 " I can't say, your Excellency? I have a hundred 
 men under my command. It is hard to remember 
 all about them." 
 
 " Hard to remember, did you say? " repeated 
 the General in a sad and serious voice. " Ah, 
 gentlemen, gentlemen. You must certainly know 
 what the Scripture says : ' Do not destroy the soul,' 
 and what are you doing ? That poor, grey, wretched 
 creature standing there, may, perhaps, some day, 
 in the hour of battle, protect you by his body, 
 carry you on his shoulders out of a hail of bullets, 
 may, with his ragged cloak, protect you against 
 snow and frost, and yet you have nothing to say 
 about him, but ' I can't say ! ' 
 
 In his nervous excitement the General pulled in 
 the reins and shouted over Osadcjii's head, in an 
 angry voic?, to the commander of the regiment 
 
 '" Colonel, get this company out of my way. I 
 have had enough. Nothing but marionettes and 
 blockheads." i 
 
 From that moment the fate of the regiment was 
 sealed. The terrified soldiers' absolute exhaustion, 
 
 15
 
 226 THE DUEL: 
 
 the non -corns.' lunatical cruelty, the officers' in- 
 capacity, indifference, and laziness all this came 
 out clearly as the review proceeded. In the 2nd 
 Company the soldiers did not even know the Lord's 
 Prayer. In the 3rd, the officers ran like wild fowls 
 when the company was to be drilled in " open 
 order." In the 4th, the manual exercise was below 
 criticism, etc. The worst of all was, however, that 
 none of the companies, with the exception of the 
 5th, knew how to meet a sudden charge of cavalry. 
 Now, this was precisely the General's hobby ; he 
 had published independently copious instructions on 
 this, in which he pointed out minutely the vital 
 importance of the troops' mobility and quickness, 
 and of their leader's resolution and deliberation. 
 
 After each company had in turn been reviewed, 
 the General commanded the officers, both commis- 
 sioned and non-commissioned, to go out of ear-shot, 
 after which he questioned the soldiers with regard 
 to their wishes and grounds of complaint ; but 
 everywhere he met with the same good-humoured 
 reply : " Satisfied with everything, your Excellency." 
 When that question was put to No. i Company, 
 Romashov heard an ensign in it remark in a 
 threatening voice 
 
 " Just let me hear any one daring to complain ; 
 I'll give him ' complaints ' ! " 
 
 For the 5th Company only was the whole review 
 a complete triumph. The brave, young, lusty 
 soldiers executed all their movements with life and 
 energy, and with such facility, mobility, and absence 
 of all pedantry that the whole of the review seemed 
 to officers and men, not a severe, painful examina- 
 tion, but like a jolly and amusing game. The 
 General smiled his satisfaction, and soon could not 
 refrain from a " Well done, my lads " the first
 
 THE DUEL 227 
 
 words of approval he uttered during the whole 
 time. 
 
 When, however, the ominous pretended charge 
 was to be met, Stelikovski literally took the old 
 General by storm. The General himself started the 
 exercise by suddenly shouting to the commander of 
 the company : " Cavalry from the right, eight 
 hundred paces." Stelikovski formed, without a 
 second's hesitation and with the greatest calm and 
 precision, his company to meet the supposed enemy, 
 which seemed to approach at a furious gallop. With 
 compactly closed ranks the fore-rank in a kneeling 
 position the troops fired two or three rounds, im- 
 mediately after which was heard the fateful 
 command : " Quick fire ! " 
 
 " Thanks, my children," cried the old General 
 joyously " that's the way it should be done. 
 Thanks, thanks.'" 
 
 After the oral examination the company was 
 drawn up in open file ; but the General delayed his 
 final dismissal. It was as if it seemed hard to him 
 to say good-bye to this company. Passing as slowly 
 as possible along the front, he observed every soldier 
 with particular and deep interest, and a very de- 
 lighted smile gleamed through the pince-nez from 
 the clever eyes beneath the heavy, prominent eye- 
 brows. Suddenly he stopped his charger, turned 
 round on his saddle to the head of his staff, and 
 exclaimed 
 
 " No ; come here and look, Colonel, what muzzles 
 the rascals have. What do you feed them on, 
 Captain? Pies? Hi, you thick nose" (he pointed 
 to a young soldier in the ranks), " your name's 
 Koval? " 
 
 "Mikhail Borichuk, your Excellency," boldly 
 replied the young recruit with a frank, happy smile.
 
 228 THE DUEL 
 
 " Oh, you scamp, I thought you -were called Koval. 
 Well, this time I was out of my reckoning," said 
 the General in fun, " but there's no harm done ; 
 better luck next time," he added, with the same 
 good-humour. 
 
 At these words the soldier's countenance puckered 
 in a broad grin. 
 
 " No, your Excellency, you are not wrong at all," 
 shouted the soldier in a raised voice. " At home, in 
 the village, I am employed as a farrier, and, there- 
 fore, they call me Koval." 
 
 The General nodded in delight, and he was 
 evidently \ very proud of his memory. "Well, 
 Captain, is he a good soldier?" 
 
 " Very good, General. All my soldiers are 
 good," (replied Stelikovski in his usual confident 
 tone. 
 
 The General's eyebrows were knitted, but his lips 
 kept smiling, and the crabbed old face gradually 
 resumed its light and friendly expression. " Well, 
 well, .Captain ; we will see about that. How is 
 the punishment-list?" 
 
 " Your Excellency, for five years not a single 
 man in my company has been punished." 
 
 The General bent forward heavily and held out 
 to Stelikovski his hairy hand in the white, un-. 
 buttoned glove that had slipped down to the 
 knuckles . 
 
 " I heartily thank you, my friend," he replied in 
 a trembling voice, and tears glistened in his eyes. 
 The General, like many old warriors, liked, now 
 and then, to shed a slight tear. " Again my thanks 
 for having given an old man pleasure. And you, 
 too, my brave boys, accept my thanks," he shouted 
 in a loud and vigorous voice to the soldiers. 
 
 Thanks to the good impression left behind from;
 
 THE DUEL 229 
 
 Stelikovski's inspection, the review of the 6th 
 Company also went off nearly satisfactorily ; the 
 General did certainly not bestow praise, but neither 
 were any reproaches heard. At the bayonet attack 
 on the straw mannikin this company even went 
 astray. 
 
 " Not that way, not that .way, not that way ! " 
 screamed the General, shaking with wrath in the 
 saddle. " Hold, stop ! that's damnable. You go 
 to work as if you were making a hole in soft 
 bread. Listen, boys. That's not the way to deal 
 with an enemy. The bayonet should be driven in 
 forcibly and furiously right in the waist up to the 
 muzzle of your rifle. Don't forget." 
 
 The remaining companies made, one after the 
 other, a hopeless " hash " of everything. At last 
 the General's outburst of anger ceased. Tired and 
 listless, he watched the miserable spectacle with 
 gloomy looks, and, without uttering a word, he 
 entirely excused himself from inspecting the 1 5th 
 and 1 6th Companies, exclaiming with a gesture of 
 disgust 
 
 " Enough, enough of such abortions." 
 There still remained the grand march past, and 
 the parade. The whole regiment was formed into 
 columns with half companies in front, and reduced 
 gaps. Again the everlasting markers were ordered 
 out to set the line of march by their ropes. 
 The heat was now almost unbearable, and the 
 soldiers could hardly bear any longer the fearful 
 stench that exuded from their own freely perspiring 
 bodies. 
 
 But for the forthcoming " solemn " march past, 
 the men now made a final effort to pull themselves 
 together. The officers almost besought their sub- 
 ordinates to strain every nerve for this final proof
 
 230 THE DUEL 
 
 of their endurance and discipline. " Brothers, for 
 the honour of the regiment, do your best. Save 
 yourselves and us from disgracing ourselves before 
 the General." In this humble recourse on the part 
 of the officers to their subordinates there lay 
 besides much else that was little edifying too, an 
 indirect recognition of their own faults and short- 
 comings. The wrath aroused in such a great 
 personage as the General of the regiment was felt 
 to be equally painful and oppressive to officers and 
 troops alike, and it had, to some extent, a levelling 
 effect, so that all were, in an equally high degree, 
 dispirited, nervous, and apathetic. 
 
 " Attention ! The band in front ! " ordered 
 Colonel Shulgovich, in the far distance. 
 
 And all these fifteen hundred human beings for a 
 second suppressed their faint inward murmurings ; 
 all muscles were once more strained, and again they 
 stood in nervous, painful expectation. 
 
 Shulgovich could not be detected by any eye, but 
 his tremendous voice again rang across the field 
 
 " Stand at ease ! " 
 
 Four battalion Captains turned in their saddles to 
 their respective divisions, and each uttered the 
 command 
 
 " Battalion, stand at " after which they awaited 
 
 with feverish nervousness the word of command. 
 
 Somewhere, far away on the field, a sabre 
 suddenly gleamed like lightning in the air. This 
 was the desired signal, and all the Captains at once 
 roared 
 
 " ease ! " whereupon all the regiment, with a 
 
 dull thud, grounded their rifles. Here and there 
 was heard the click of a few unfortunate bayonets 
 which, in the movement, happened to clash together. 
 
 But now, at last, the solemn, never-to-be-forgotten
 
 THE DUJED 231 
 
 moment had arrived, when the commander of the 
 regiment's tremendous lungs were to be heard by 
 the world in all their awful majesty. Solemnly, 
 confidently, but, at the same time, menacingly, like 
 slow rumblings of thunder, the strongly accentuated 
 syllables rolled across the plain in the command 
 
 " March past 1 " 
 
 In the next moment you might hear sixteen 
 Captains risking their lives in mad attempt to shout 
 each other down, when they repeated all at once 
 
 " March past ! " 
 
 One single poor sinner far away in detail of the 
 column managed to come too late. He whined in 
 a melancholy falsetto : 
 
 " March pa ! " 
 
 The rest of the word was unfortunately lost to 
 the men, and probably drowned in the oaths and 
 threats of the bystanders. 
 
 " Column in half companies ! " roared Colonel 
 Shulgovich. 
 
 " Column in half companies 1 " repeated the 
 Captains . 
 
 " With double platoon hollow I " chanted Shul- 
 govich. 
 
 " With double platoon hollow ! " answered the 
 choir. 
 
 "Dress-ing ri-ight ! " thundered the giant. 
 
 " Dress-ing ri-ight ! " came from the dwarfs. 
 
 Shulgovich now took breath for two or three 
 seconds, after which he once more gave vent to 
 his voice of thunder in the command 
 
 " First half company forward march I " 
 
 Rolling heavily through the dense ranks across 
 the level plain came Osadchi's dull roar 
 
 " First half company, dress to the right forward 
 march' I "
 
 232 THE DUEL 
 
 Away in the front was heard the merry rattle of 
 drums. Seen from the rear, the column resembled 
 a forest of bayonets which often enough waved 
 backwards and forwards . 
 
 " Second half company to the middle 1 " Romas- 
 hov recognized Artschakovski's squeaky falsetto. 
 
 A new line of bayonets assumed a leaning position 
 and departed. The thunder of the drums grew more 
 and more faint, and was just about to sink down, as 
 it were, and be absorbed in the ground, when sud- 
 denly the last sounds of drum-beats were dispersed 
 by the rhythmically jubilant, irresistible waves of 
 music from the wind instruments. The sleepy 
 marching time of the companies filing past at once 
 caught fire and life ; languid eyes and greyish cheeks 
 regained their colour, and tired muscles were once 
 more braced to save the honour of the regiment. 
 
 The half companies proceeded to march, one after 
 the other, and at every step the soldiers' torpid 
 spirits were revived under the influence of the band's 
 cheerful strains. The ist Battalion's last company 
 had already got some distance when, lo ! Lieu- 
 tenant-Colonel Liech advanced gently on his thin, 
 raven-black horse, followed close at his heels by 
 Olisar. Both had their sabres ready for the salute, 
 with their sabre-hilts' knots dangling on a level 
 with their mouths. Soon Stelikovski's quiet, non- 
 chalant command was heard. High above the 
 bayonets, the standard lorded on its long pole, and it 
 was now the 6th Company's turn to march. Captain 
 Sliva stepped to the front and inspected his men by 
 a glance from his pale, prominent, fishy eyes. With 
 his miserable shrunken figure stooping, and his long 
 arms, he had a striking resemblance to an ugly 
 old monkey. 
 
 " F-irst half company forward ! "
 
 THE DUEL 233 
 
 With a light and elegant step Romashov hurried 
 to his place right in front of the second half 
 company's pivot. A blissful, intoxicating feeling of 
 pride came over him whilst he allowed his glance 
 to glide quickly over the first row of his division. 
 " The old swashbuckler viewed with an eagle's 
 eyes the brave band of veterans," he declaimjed 
 silently, after which in a prolonged sing-song he 
 gave the order 
 
 " Second half comipany forward ! " 
 
 " One, two," Romashov counted softly to himself, 
 marking time with a soft stamping on the spot. 
 Pronouncing the word at the right moment was 
 of infinite importance, as upon it depended the 
 exact carrying out of the inexorable command that 
 the half company should begin marching with the 
 proper foot, i.e., with the same foot as the pre- 
 ceding division, 4f left, right; left, right." At last 
 a start was made. With head erect, and beaming 
 with a smile of boundless happiness, he cried in 
 a loud, resonant voice 
 
 '" March 1 "- 
 
 A second afterwards he made, as quick as 
 lightning, a complete turn on one foot towards 
 his men, and commanded, two tones lower in 
 the scale 
 
 " Dress right ! " 
 
 The profound solemnity and " infinite beauty " 
 of the moment almost took away his breath. At 
 that instant it seemed to him as if the music's 
 waves of melody surrounded him, and were changed 
 into a seething, blinding ocean of light and fire ; 
 as if these deafening brazen peals had descended 
 on him from on high, from heaven, from the sun. 
 Even now, as at his last never-to-be-forgotten tryst 
 with Shurochka, he was thrilled by a freezing,
 
 234 THE DUEL 
 
 petrifying shudder that made the very hair on his 
 head stand up. 
 
 With joy in their voices and in time with the 
 music, the 5th Company replied to the General's 
 salute. Nearer and nearer to Romashov sounded 
 the jubilant notes of the parade march. On the 
 right and onwards, he could now distinguish the 
 General's heavy figure on his grey horse, and, 
 somewhat farther off, the ladies' brilliant dresses, 
 which, in trie" blinding glare of the noon -day sun, 
 reminded him of the flaming flower -petals in the 
 old sagas. On the left gleamed the bandsmen's 
 gold instruments, and it seemed to Romashov as if, 
 between the General and the band, was drawn an 
 invisible, enchanted thread, the passing of which 
 was combined peril and bliss. 
 
 At this moment the first half company reached 
 " the thread." 
 
 *' Good, my lads," rang the General's delighted 
 voice. " Ah, ah, ah, ah I " was the soldiers' rapid 
 joyous answer. Stronger and stronger at every 
 second grew the alluring influence of the parade 
 march, and Romashov could hardly restrain his 
 feelings any longer. " O thou, my ideal," thought 
 he of the General, with deep emotion. 
 
 The blissful moment had come. With elastic 
 strides that scarcely touched the ground, Romashov 
 approached his " enchanted thread." He threw his 
 head bravely back with a proud and defiant twist 
 to the left. So potent a feeling of lightness, 
 freedom, and bliss rushed through his being that 
 he fancied he could at any moment whirl himself 
 into space. And while he felt he was an object 
 of delight and admiration to the eyes of all a 
 centre of all the universe contains of strength, 
 beauty, and delight, he said to himself, as though 
 under the witchery of a heavenly dream 1
 
 THE DUEL 235 
 
 " Look, look, there goes Romashov ! The ladies' 
 eyes are shining with love and admiration. One, 
 two ; left, right, ' Colonel Shulgovich,' shouts the 
 General, ' your Romashov is a priceless jewel ; he 
 must be my Adjutant.' Left, right ! One, two ! " 
 
 Another second and Romashov knew he had 
 started and passed his mystic " thread." The parade 
 inarch had changed to a joyous peal of trumpets 
 announcing victory. " Now comes the General's 
 salute and thanks," thought Romashov, and his 
 soul returns to the regions of bliss ; but he fancies 
 he hears the Colonel's voice and certain other 
 voices. 
 
 "What has happened ; what is the matter? Of 
 course the General has saluted, but why don't my 
 men respond? What's this? " 
 
 Romashov turned round, and his face became 
 white. Instead of a well-ordered troop in two 
 lines as straight as an arrow, his men formed a 
 shapeless mass a crowd resembling a flock of 
 sheep of individuals mad with imbecility and 
 misery, pushing and jolting each other. The cause 
 of this was that Romashov, whilst he was in his 
 paradisaical world of dreams and intoxication of 
 victory, failed to notice that, step by step, he 
 deviated from the line of march, and more and 
 more approached the right wing of his division. 
 His trusty, unfortunate " markers " followed close 
 on the heels of their leader, and, of course, in 
 consequence of this the whole of the half company 
 finally got into the wildest confusion. Romashov 
 saw all this at the very moment lie became aware 
 that the wretched Khliabnikov was stalking, on his 
 own account, twenty paces behind the division, right 
 under the very nose of the General. 
 
 Romashov immediately let his wings droop.
 
 236 THE DUEL 
 
 Covered with dust, he stood quite still to await and 
 collect his poor veterans, who, absolutely dead 
 beaten with the weight of their knapsacks and 
 ammunition, were now hardly able to crawl along 
 on all -fours with one hand still grasping the rifle 
 and the other fumbling in the air or in the region 
 of their perspiring noses. 
 
 To Romashov it seemed as if the glorious May 
 sun had suddenly lost its radiance ; as if he had 
 been buried under an infinite weight, under sand 
 and gravel, and that the music that so lately 
 sounded such triumphant strains now rang softly 
 and ominously in his ears, like a funeral march. 
 And he felt so small and weak and wretched, so 
 loathsome in every respect, that it was all he could 
 do to keep himself upright on his leaden, palsied 
 legs. 
 
 The Colonel's Adjutant at that moment rushed up 
 to him. Federovski's face was as red as fire and 
 distorted with passion. His lower jaw trembled, 
 and he was panting with rage and his hard riding. 
 Even at a distance he began shrieking like a man 
 possessed, and uttering inarticulate and incompre- 
 hensible words . 
 
 " Sub-lieutenant Romashov, the commander of 
 your regiment condemns, in the strongest terms, 
 your behaviour to-day. Seven days' arrest in the 
 staff cells. What a monstrous scandal ! The 
 whole regiment on account of you. Oh, such an 
 abortion ! " 
 
 Romashov did not make the slightest reply, nor 
 did he even turn his head. And, besides, what 
 answer could he make ? Federovski had, most 
 certainly, a right to be furious. But the troops, 
 the soldiers who heard every single insulting word of 
 the Adjutant's what would they think? Romashov
 
 THE DUEL 237 
 
 felt at that moment a boundless hatred and con- 
 tempt of himself. <f I am lost ; I am dishonoured 
 for ever. I'll shoot myself. Can I suppose I am 
 worthy to live ! What am I ? An insignificant, 
 ridiculous, contemptible wretch a caricature, an 
 ugly, disgusting, idiotic creature. My own soldiers 
 will laugh at me, and, behind my back, they will 
 make merry with nudges and secret signs, at 
 my expense. Or, perhaps, they will pity me. All 
 the same, everything is lost, and I I'll shoot 
 myself." 
 
 After passing the General, all the companies made 
 a half -turn to the left, and then went back to 
 their original places, where they were successively 
 drawn up again and in open file. Whilst waiting for 
 the return of the last companies to march past, the 
 men were allowed to " stand easy," and the officers 
 utilized the occasion to smoke a cigarette and chat 
 with one another. Only Romashov stood quite 
 alone, silent and motionless in front of his half 
 company. He dug the earth incessantly with the 
 point of his sabre, and though he cast his eyes 
 down fixedly, he felt he was, on all sides, a mark 
 for curious, sarcastic, and contemptuous glances. 
 
 Captain Sliva purposely passed by Romashov 
 without stopping except to look at him, and spoke, 
 as it were, to himself through his clenched teeth, 
 and in a voice hoarse and unrecognizable through 
 hatred and fury 
 
 " Be good enough to send in to-day a request 
 to be transferred to another company. " 
 
 A little while afterwards Viatkin came. In his 
 kindly, frank % glance and the drawn comers of his 
 mouth, Romashov read that expression of pity and 
 compassion with which people usually regard a dog 
 that has been run over and crushed in the street.
 
 238 THE DUEL 
 
 And, at the same time, Romashov felt with disgust 
 that he had, half mechanically, twisted his mouth 
 into an unmeaning, pitiful smile. 
 
 " Yuri Alexievich," exclaimed Viatkin, " come and 
 smoke a cigarette with me/' and with a click of 
 the tongue and slightly throwing his head back, 
 he added in a despondent tone 
 
 " Well, well, old chap ! " 
 
 Romashov's chin and the corners of his mouth 
 twitched, and a lump came into his throat. Tears 
 were not far off, and he replied in the faltering 
 and fretful voice of an aggrieved child 
 
 " No, no ; not now ! I don't want to ! " 
 
 Viatkin withdrew. 
 
 " Suppose I were to go and give that fellow 
 Sliva a bang on his ear," thought Romashov, 
 buffeted here and there by his melancholy introspec- 
 tions. "'Or to go up to that grey -bearded General 
 and say : ' "Aren't you asliamed, at your age, to 
 play with soldiers and torture men ? Release us 
 from here instantly, and let us rest. For two long 
 weeks the soldiers have been ill-treated solely on 
 account of you.' ' 
 
 Romashov, however, remembered his own proud, 
 stuck-up thoughts only a brief while ago of the 
 young ensign as handsome as a picture, of the ladies' 
 ideal, of the General's favourite future Adjutant, etc., 
 etc. and he felt so much shame and pain that a 
 deep blush overspread, not only his face, but even 
 his chest and back. 
 
 " You wretched, absurd, contemptible being ! " he 
 sKrieked to himself in thought. " Let all know 
 that I shall shoot myself to-day.' 1 
 
 The review was over. The regiment had, never- 
 theless, to parade several times before the General,
 
 THE DUEL 239 
 
 first by companies in the ordinary march, after- 
 wards in quick march, and finally in close columns. 
 The General became a little less severe, as it 
 were, and he even praised the soldiers several 
 times. At last the clock was close upon 4 p.m. 
 Then at length the men got a little rest whilst 
 the officers assembled to criticize them. 
 
 The staff-trumpeter blew a signal. " The officers 
 are summoned to the General," it shouted through 
 the companies. 
 
 The officers left the ranks, and formed thJem- 
 selves into a dense circle round the General, who 
 remained on horseback, stooping and visibly 
 extremely tired ; but he peered through his glasses 
 as shrewdly and scornfully as before. 
 
 " I shall be brief," said he in an abrupt and 
 decisive tone. "The regiment is inefficient, but 
 that's not the fault of the soldiers, but of the 
 officers. When the coachman is bad the horses will 
 not go. Gentlemen, you have no heart, no mind 
 or sympathy, so far as the men's needs and interests 
 are concerned. Don't forget, ' Blessed is he who 
 lays down his life for his friend.' With you there 
 is only one thought, ' How shall I best please the 
 General at the review ? ' You treat your men like 
 plough horses. The appearance of the officers 
 witnesses to moral slovenliness and barbarism. Here 
 and there an officer puts me in mind of a village 
 sexton dressed in an officer's uniform. Moreover, 
 I will refer to my orders of the day in writing. 
 An ensign, belonging probably to the sixth or 
 seventh company, lost his head entirely and hope- 
 lessly muddled up his division. Such a thing is 
 a disgrace.' I do not want a jog-trot march in 
 three-time, but, before everything else, a sound and 
 calm judgment."- f
 
 240 THE DUEL 
 
 '- That last referred to me," thought Romashov, 
 and he fancied he felt all the glances of those 
 present turned towards him at once. But nobody 
 even stirred : all stood speechless, petrified, with 
 their eyes immovably fixed on the General's 
 face. 
 
 " My very heartiest thanks to the Captain of the 
 5th Company. Where are you, Captain? Oh, there 
 you are ! " The General, a little theatrically, took 
 off his cap with both hands and bared his 
 powerfully shaped bald head, whilst making a 
 profound bow to Stelikovski. "Once more I thank 
 you, and it is a pleasure for me to shake you 
 by the hand. If God should ordain that this corps 
 is to fight under my comman'd, remember, Captain, 
 that the first dangerous task belongs to you. And 
 now, gentlemen, good-bye. Your work for the day 
 is finished, and it will be a pleasure for me to 
 see you again, but under different and more 
 pleasing circumstances. Make way for my horse 
 now.' z 
 
 Colonel Shulgovich stepped out of the circle. 
 
 " Your Excellency, in the officers' name, I invite 
 you respectfully to dine at our mess. *\Ve shall 
 be " 
 
 " No., I teee no reason for that," interrupted the 
 General dryly. " I thank you, as I am in duty bound 
 to do, but I am invited to Count Liedochovski's." 
 
 The officers cleared a way, and the General 
 galloped off to the place where the regiment 
 was awaiting the officers' return. 
 
 '- I thank you, my lads," he shouted lustily and 
 kindly to the soldiers. " I give you two days' 
 leave. And now, off with you to your tents. Quick 
 march, hurrah ! " 
 
 It was just as if he had, by this last brief shout,
 
 THE DUEL 241 
 
 turned the whole regiment topsy-turvy. With a 
 deafening yell of delight, fifteen hundred men dis- 
 persed, in an instant, in all directions, and the 
 ground shook beneath the feet of the fugitives. 
 
 Romashov separated himself from the other 
 officers, who returned, in groups, to the town, and 
 took a long circuit through the camp. He felt 
 }ust then like a banned, excommunicated fugitive ; 
 like an unworthy member expelled from the circle 
 of his comrades nay, even like a creature beyond 
 the pale of humanity, in soul and body stunted 
 and despised. 
 
 When he at length found himself behind the 
 camp, near his own mess, he heard a few cries 
 of sudden but restrained rage. He stood an instant 
 and saw how his ensign, Rynda a small, red -faced, 
 powerful fellow was, with "frightful invectives and 
 objurgations, belabouring with his fists Khliab- 
 nikov 's nose and cheeks. In the poor victim's 
 almost bestially dull eyes one could see an inde- 
 scribable terror, and, at every blow, Khliabnikov 
 staggered now to the right, now to the left. 
 
 Romashov hurried away from the spot almost at 
 running speed. In his present state of mind, it was 
 beyond his power to protect Khliabnikov from 
 further ill-treatment. It seemed to Romashov as 
 if this wretched soldier's fate had to-day become 
 linked with his own. They were both, he thought, 
 cripples, who aroused in mankind the same feeling 
 of compassion and disgust. This similarity in their 
 position certainly excited, on Romashov 's part, an 
 intolerable feeling of shame and disgust at himself, 
 but also a consciousness that in this lay something 
 singularly deep and truly human. 
 
 16
 
 XV 
 
 ONLY one way led from the camp to the town, 
 viz. over the railway-line, which at this spot crossed 
 a deep and declivitous ravine. Romashov ran 
 briskly down the narrow, well-trodden, almost 
 precipitous pathway, and was beginning, after that, 
 a toilsome clamber up the other slope. He had 
 not reached more than half-way to the top of the 
 ravine before he noticed a figure there in uniform 
 with a cloak over his shoulders. After a few seconds' 
 close examination, Romashov recognized his friend 
 Nikolaiev. 
 
 " Now," thought Romashov, " comes the most 
 disagreeable of all," and he could not suppress a 
 certain unpleasant feeling of anxiety ; but he con- 
 tinued on his way resigned to his fate, and was 
 soon on the plateau. 
 
 The two officers had not seen each other for five 
 days, but neither of them made even an intimation 
 of greeting, and it seemed, at any rate to Romas- 
 hov, as if this were quite the correct thing on 
 this memorable, miserable day. 
 
 " I have purposely waited for you here, Yuri 
 Alexievich," began Nikolaiev, whilst he looked 
 over Romashov 's shoulder into the distance, to- 
 wards the camp. 
 
 " I am at your service, Vladimir Yefimovich," 
 replied Romashov in a strained, unconcerned tone, 
 
 and with a slight tremor in his voice. He stooped 
 
 242
 
 THE DUEL 243 
 
 down to the ground and broke o'ff a dry, brown 
 stalk of grass from the previous year. Whilst 
 absently biting the stalk of grass, he stared 
 obstinately at the bright buttons on Nikolaiev's cape, 
 and he saw in them his own distorted figure a 
 Ettle narrow head upwards ; downwards two stunted 
 legs, and between them an abnormally broad big 
 belly. 
 
 " I shall not keep you long waiting only a few 
 words," said Nikolaiev. He spoke with a strikingly 
 peculiar softness in his voice and with the forced 
 politeness of an angry and hot-tempered person who 
 has made up his mind not to forget himself. But 
 whilst both tried to shun the other's glances, the 
 situation became every moment more and more in- 
 tolerable, so that Romashov in a questioning tone 
 proposed 
 
 " It would be best perhaps if we went pn our 
 way together? " 
 
 The winding steps, worn by foot-passengers, cut 
 through a large field of white beet. In the distance 
 the town, with its white houses and red-tiled 
 roofs, might be distinguished. Both officers walked 
 side by side, yet with an evident effort to keep as 
 far as possible from each other, and the beets' thick, 
 luxuriant, and juicy leaves were crushed and bruised 
 beneath their feet. Both observed, for a long time, 
 an obstinate silence. Finally, after taking a deep 
 breath, Nikolaiev managed, with a visible effort, to 
 blurt out 
 
 " First of all, I must ask you a question. Have 
 you invariably shown my wife, Alexandra Petrovna, 
 due regard and respect? " 
 
 " I don't understand what you mean, Vladimir 
 Yefimovich," replied Romashov ; " but I, too, have 
 a question.; ..."
 
 244 THE DUEL 
 
 " Excuse me," interrupted Nikolaiev in a sharp 
 tone, " our questions ought, to avoid confusion, to be 
 put in turn first I, then you. And now let ius 
 talk openly and without restraint. Answer me this 
 question first. Is it a matter of supreme indifference 
 to you that my wife that her good name has been 
 the subject of scandal and slander? No, no, don't 
 interrupt me. You can hardly deny, I suppose, 
 that on my part you have never experienced any- 
 thing but goodwill, and that, in our house, you have 
 always been received as an intimate friend nay, 
 almost as a relation." 
 
 'Romashov made a false step and stumbled on 
 the loose ground. In an embarrassed tone he 
 mumbled in reply 
 
 " Be assured, Vladimir Yefimovich, that I shall 
 always feel ; grateful to you and Alexandra Petrovna." 
 
 " Ah, that's not the question," said Nikolaiev, 1 
 angrily interrupting him. ' I am not soliciting your 
 gratitude. I'll only tell you that my wife has been 
 the victim of dirty, lying scandal in which " 
 (Nikolaiev almost panted out the words, and he 
 wiped his face with his handkerchief) " well, to 
 put it Shortly, a scandal in which you, too, are mixed 
 up. We both she and I are greeted almost every 
 day with the most shameless anonymous letters. 
 It is too disgusting to me to put [these letters before 
 you, but you shall know a good deal of their 
 contents." Nikolaiev broke off his speech, but, 
 in the next minute, he continued with a jstammer. 
 " By all the devils now listen they say that you 
 are Alexandra Petrovna's lover, and that how 
 horrible 1 secret meetings daily take place in your 
 room. The whole regiment is talking abou,t it. 
 What a scandal 1 " 
 
 He bit his teeth in rage and spat.
 
 THE DUEL 245 
 
 " I know who has written these letters," answered 
 Romashov in a lowered voice, and turned away. 
 
 "Do you?" Nikolaiev stopped suddenly and 
 clutched Romashov's arm tightly. It was quite 
 plain now that his forced calm was quite exhausted. 
 His bestial eyes grew bigger, his face became 
 blood-red, foam began to appear at the corners 
 of his mouth, and, as he bent in a threatening! 
 manner towards Romashov, he shrieked madly 
 
 " So you know this, and you even dare to keep 
 silence 1 Don't you understand that it is quite plainly 
 your bounden duty to slay this serpent brood, to put 
 a stop at once to this insidious slander ? My noble 
 Don Juan, if you are an honourable man and 
 not a " 
 
 Romashov turned pale, and he eyed Nikolaiev 
 with a glance of hatred. He felt that moment 
 that his hands and feet were as heavy as lead, his 
 brain empty, that the abnormal and violent beating 
 of his heart had sunk still lower in his chest, and 
 that his whole body was trembling. 
 
 " I must ask you to lower your voice when you 
 address me," he interrupted him by saying in ia 
 hollow voice. " Speak civilly ; you know well 
 enough I do not allow any one to shout at me." 
 
 "I'm not shouting," replied Nikolaiev, still speak- 
 ing in a rough and coarse, though somewhat 
 subdued tone. "I'm only trying to make you see 
 what your duty is, although I have a right to 
 demand it. Our former intimate relations give me 
 this right. If Alexandra Petrovna's unblemished 
 name is still of any value to you, then, without delay, 
 put a stop to these infamies." 
 
 " All right. I will do all I can as regards that," 
 was Romashov's dry answer. 
 
 He turned away and went on. In the middle of
 
 246 THE DUEL 
 
 the pathway, Nikolaiev caught him up in a few 
 steps. 
 
 " Please wait a moment." Nikolaiev's voice 
 sounded more gentle, and seemed even to have lost 
 some of its assertiveness and force. " I submit, 
 now the matter has at last been talked about, -we 
 ought also to cease our acquaintance. What do 
 you say yourself?" 
 
 " Perhaps so." 
 
 " You must yourself have noticed the kindness 
 and sympathy with which we that is to say, 
 Alexandra Petrovna and I received you at our 
 house. But if I should now be forced to I need 
 say no more ; you know well enough how scandal 
 rankles in this wretched little provincial hole." 
 
 " Very well," replied Romashov gloomily. " I 
 shall cease my visits. That, I take it, iwas what 
 you wished. I may tell you, moreover, that I had 
 already made up my mind not to enter your door 
 again. A few days ago I paid Alexandra Petrovna 
 a very short call to return her some books, but you 
 may be absolutely certain that was the last time." 
 
 " Yes, that is best so ; I think " 
 
 Nikolaiev did not finish the sentence, and was 
 evidently anything but easy in his mind. The two 
 officers reached the road at this moment. There 
 still remained some three hundred yards before they 
 came to the town. Without uttering another word 
 or even deigning to glance at each other, they con- 
 tinued on their way, side by side. Neither of them 
 could make up his mind either to stop or turn back, 
 and the situation became more awkward every 
 minute. 
 
 At length they reached the furthest houses of the 
 town. An isvostschik drove up and was at once 
 hailed by Nikolaiev.
 
 THE DUEL 247 
 
 "That's agreed then, Yuri Alexievich." Niko- 
 laiev uttered these words in a vulgar, unpleasant 
 tone, and then got into the droshky. " Good-bye 
 and au revoir." 
 
 The two officers did not shake hands, and their 
 salute at parting was very curt. Romashov stood 
 still for a moment, and stared, through the cloud of 
 dust, at the hurrying droshky and Nikolaiev's strong, 
 white neck. He suddenly felt like the most lonely 
 and forsaken man in the wide world, and it seemed 
 to him as if he had, then and there, despoiled him- 
 self of all that had hitherto made his life at all 
 worth living. 
 
 Slowly he made his way home. Hainan met him 
 in the yard, and saluted him, from a distance, with 
 his broad grin. His face beamed with benevolence 
 and delight as he took off his master's cloak, and, 
 after a few minutes, he began his usual curious 
 dance. 
 
 " Have you had dinner ? " he asked in a sym- 
 pathetic, familiar tone. " Oh, you have not. Then 
 I'll run to the club at once and fetch some food. 
 I'll be back again directly." 
 
 " Go to the devil ! " screamed Romashov, " and 
 don't dare to come into my room. I'm not at 
 home to anybody not even to the Tsar himself." 
 
 He threw himself on the bed, and buried his face 
 in the pillow. His teeth closed over the linen, his 
 eyes burned, and he felt a curious stabbing sensation 
 in his throat. He wanted to cry. With eager 
 longing he waited for the first hot, bitter tears which 
 would, he hoped, afford him consolation and relief in 
 this dark hour of torture and misery. Without pity 
 on himself, he recalled once more in his mind the 
 cruel events of the day ; he purposely magnified and 
 exaggerated his shame and ignominy, and he
 
 248 THE DUEL 
 
 regarded, as it were, from outside, his own wretched 
 Ego with pity and contempt. 
 
 Then something very strange happened. It did 
 not seem to Romashov that he slept or even 
 slumbered for an instant, but simply that he was 
 for some moments wholly incapable of thinking. 
 His eyes were shut, but, all of a sudden, he felt he 
 had regained full consciousness, and was suffering 
 the same anguish as before. It was completely 
 dark in the room now. He looked at his watch and 
 discovered to his indescribable astonishment that this 
 mysterious trance had lasted more than five hours. 
 
 He began to feel hungry. He got up, put on his 
 sabre, threw his cloak over his shoulder and started 
 for the officers' mess. The distance there from 
 Romashov 's door was scarcely two hundred yards, 
 and besides, he always made use of a short cut 
 through unbuilt-upon plots and fenced-in kitchen- 
 gardens, etc. 
 
 A bright gleam issued from the half-open windows 
 of the salle- a- manger, billiard-room, and kitchen, 
 but the dirty backyard, blocked up with and partly 
 covered by all sorts of rubbish, was in thick darkness. 
 Every moment one heard loud chatter and laughter, 
 singing, and the sharp click of billiard balls. 
 
 Romashov had already reached the courtyard steps 
 when he recognized his Captain's angry and sneering 
 voice. Romashov stopped at once, and cautiously 
 glancing into one of the open windows of the salle- 
 d- manger, he caught sight of Captain Sliva's humped 
 back. 
 
 He was stammering : " All my c-c-company 
 m-m-marches as one man." Sliva marked time 
 by raising and lowering the palm of his hand. 
 " But th-that d-d-damned fool m-must upset every- 
 thing." Sliva made with his first finger several
 
 THE DUEL 249 
 
 clumsy and silly motions in the air. " But, g-gentle- 
 men, 1 s-said to him, ' M-march to another c-c-com- 
 pany, my fl-fine f-f-fellow, or s-still b-better m-march 
 out of the regiment. Who the devil will have s-such 
 an officer ? ' 
 
 Romashov shut his eyes, and shrivelled up with 
 shame and rage. He feared that, at the next move- 
 ment on his part, all the officers at mess would 
 rush to the window and discover him. For one or 
 two minutes he did not stir ; then with his head 
 hidden in his cloak, and scarcely venturing to 
 breathe, he stole on tip-toe along the wall, out 
 through the gate to the street, the moonlit portion 
 of which he crossed by a couple of brisk jumps 
 so as to reach the deep protecting shadow of the 
 high hoarding on the other side. 
 
 Romashov sauntered for a long time that evening 
 about the streets of the town. Often he did not 
 even know where he was. Once he stopped in the 
 shadow right under Nikolaiev's house, the green- 
 painted sheet-iron roof and white walls of which 
 were brilliantly illumined by the moon's clear 
 bright rays. Not a soul was in the street, not a 
 sound was audible. The sharply marked outlines 
 of the shadows from the houses opposite divided the 
 street into two halves. 
 
 Behind the thick dark-red curtains in one of the 
 rooms at the Nikolaievs' a lamp was burning. " My 
 beloved," whispered Romashov, " don't you feel how 
 near I am to you, how much I love you?" He 
 pressed his hands to his chest, and had much 
 difficulty in restraining his tears. 
 
 Suddenly, however, he got the idea that, in spite 
 of the distance and the house's thick walls, he might 
 possibly make Shurochka notice his presence. With 
 closed teeth and hands so tightly clenched that
 
 250 THE DUEL 
 
 the nails were driven into the flesh, and with a 
 sensation as if icy-cold ants were creeping over his 
 body, he began to concentrate all his will-power to 
 a single object. " Get up from your sofa. Come 
 to the window. Draw the curtain. Look, look 
 through the window out into the street. Obey. I 
 command you ; come to the window at once." 
 
 But the curtain remained motionless. " You don't 
 hear me, then," whispered Romashov, with sorrow 
 and indignation in his heart. " You are sitting by 
 the lamp beside him, calm, indifferent, and as beau- 
 tiful as ever. Oh, my God, my God, how wretched 
 I am ! " 
 
 He sighed deeply, and with bowed head and 
 crippled with weariness he continued his melancholy 
 wandering. 
 
 He even passed Nasanski's place, but it was dark 
 there. It seemed to Romashov as if a white spectre 
 had quickly fluttered past one of the house's dark 
 windows. A shudder ran through him, and he dared 
 not call to Nasanski. 
 
 Some days later Romashov remembered this fan- 
 tastic nay, idiotic ramble as a strange, far-off 
 dream which, nevertheless, could not be forgotten. 
 He had even been in the Jewish cemetery, but 
 how he got there he could not tell himself. This 
 silent and mysterious burial-ground lay beyond the 
 town, on a height, and was surrounded by a low 
 white wall. From the luxuriant, slumbering grass 
 arose the icy-cold gravestones, simple, unadorned, 
 like each other, and casting behind them long, 
 narrow shadows. And over all this gloomy place 
 reigned the grave, solemn, austere note of solitude. 
 
 After this he saw himself in another quarter of 
 the town, but this, nevertheless, was perhaps only a 
 dream. He stood in the middle of a long, carefully
 
 THE DUEL 251 
 
 constructed dam that divided the River Bug across 
 its entire breadth. The dark-hued water ran slowly 
 and lazily away beneath his feet, and now and 
 then it, as it were, strove to render a well-known 
 melody by its capricious splashing. The moon was 
 mirrored on the lightly curled surface of the river, 
 like an infinitely long, trembling pillar, around which 
 you might fancy you saw millions of fishes playing 
 in the water whilst they slowly withdrew and dis- 
 appeared in the direction of the distant shore, which 
 lay afar off, silent, dark, and deserted. Wherever 
 he might be, whether in or out of the town, he was 
 followed by a faint, sweet, aromatic scent from 
 the white acacia flower. 
 
 Wonderful thoughts entered his brain this night 
 thoughts sometimes sad and melancholy, at other 
 times childishly ridiculous. Most frequently he 
 reasoned like the inexperienced gambler who with 
 the frivolity and optimism of youth pondered upon 
 the fact that he had in a single night played away 
 all he possessed. Thus Romashov tried again and 
 again to delude himself into believing that the 
 wretched events of the past day had absolutely no 
 importance nay, he even succeeded in resuscitating 
 that " irresistible " Sub-lieutenant Romashov who 
 so ideally conducts his parade march under the 
 General's critical eyes, who at the front is the 
 object of the General's thanks and admiration, and 
 who afterwards drains his goblet of wine among 
 his rejoicing comrades. But the next moment he 
 hears Federovski's furious threats, his chief's in- 
 sulting words, Nikolaiev's painful questions and com- 
 plaints, and he is once more the disgraced and 
 hopelessly ruined Sub -lieutenant Romashov. 
 
 An irresistible force from within brought him 
 back in the course of his nocturnal wandering to
 
 252 THE DUEL 
 
 the place where he came upon Nikolaiev after the 
 review. Here he walked about meditating suicide, 
 though by no means seriously, but only according 
 to his ingrained habit to pose in his own worthy 
 person as a martyr and hero. 
 
 Hainan comes rushing out of Romashov's room. 
 His countenance is distorted with terror. Pale 
 and trembling all over, he hurries on to the officers' 
 salle-d-manger, which is full oif people. At the sight 
 of Hainan all spontaneously get up from their 
 places. " Your Excellencies the lieutenant has 
 shot himself," Hainan at last stammers out. General 
 uproar ; dismay is to be read in the faces of all. 
 "Who has shot himself? Where? What lieu- 
 tenant?" Finally somebody recognizes Hainan. 
 " Gentlemen, this is Hainan, you know Lieutenant 
 Romashov's servant. It's the Circassian, you know." 
 All hurry to Romashov's house ; some do not even 
 give themselves time to put on their caps. 
 Romashov is discovered lying on his bed ; on the 
 floor beside him is a large pool of blood, in which 
 is found a revolver of the Smith and Wesson cele- 
 brated make. Through a crowd of officers, who 
 occupy every corner of the little room, Znoiko, 
 the regimental surgeon, pushes his way with some 
 difficulty. " Shot in the temple," he says amidst 
 a general hush. " All is over, nothing can be done." 
 Some one among the bystanders says in a lowered 
 voice, " Gentlemen, uncover your heads before the 
 majesty of Death ! " Many make the sign of the 
 Cross. Viatkin finds on the table a note on which 
 the deceased has written in a firm hand a few lines 
 in pencil. Viatkin reads them out 
 
 I forgive all. I die of my own free will. My life is intolerable. 
 Break the news gently to my mother. 
 
 GEORGI ROMASHOV.
 
 THE DUEL 253 
 
 All gaze at one another, and each reads on his 
 neighbour's countenance the unuttered thought : 
 " We are his murderers." Softly rocks the coffin 
 covered with gold brocade and carried by eight 
 comrades. The entire corps of officers takes part 
 in the procession. After the officers comes the 6th 
 Company. Captain Sliva frowns gloomily. Viat- 
 kin's kind face is disfigured by tears, but now in 
 the street he makes an effort to compose himself. 
 Lbov oh, heart of gold ! weeps incessantly without 
 blushing for his emotion. Like deep, heavy, sighs 
 sound the hollow strains of the Dead March. There 
 stand all the ladies of the regiment, including 
 Shurochka. " I kissed him," she thinks with despair 
 in her heart. " I loved him I might have saved 
 him." " Too late ! " thinks Romashov, with a bitter 
 smile. The officers accompanying their dead com- 
 rade to the grave softly converse with each other. 
 " Ah," thinks each of them to himself, " how sorry 
 I am for him, poor fellow. What an excellent 
 comrade, what a handsome and capable officer ! 
 Yes, yes, that is true, but we did not appreciate 
 him." Loud and more touching sound the strains 
 of the Dead March. It is Beethoven's immortal 
 music, " By a Hero's Bier." But Romashov is lying 
 in his coffin, cold and still, with an everlasting smile 
 on his lips. On his chest rests a modest bouquet 
 of violets, but no one knows from where they came. 
 He has forgiven all Shurochka, Sliva, Federovski, 
 Shulgovich all. But they waste no tears. He is 
 better off where he is now ; he was too pure, too 
 good for this world. 
 
 This gloomy, silent monologue forced tears from 
 Romashov's eyes, but he did not wipe them away, 
 It was so delicious to imagine himself a martyr, 
 an innocent victim to t<he malignity of mankind.
 
 254 THE DUEL 
 
 He had now reached the white -beet field, the 
 extensive surface of which had an almost oppressive 
 influence on Romashov. He climbed on to a little 
 hillock just beside the ravine in which the railway 
 ran. 
 
 There he stood. This side of the ravine lay in 
 deep shadow, but the opposite one was so power- 
 fully illuminated that one might fancy it possible 
 to distinguish every blade of grass. The ravine 
 was very precipitous near the place where Romashov 
 was now standing, and at the bottom of it the 
 rails, worn bright by traffic, shone. Far away in 
 the field on the other si,de of the railway the 
 white, pyramid-like tents could be seen in even 
 rows . 
 
 A little way down the slope of the ravine was a 
 small platform. Romashov glided down to it and 
 sat on the grass. He felt nearly sick from hunger 
 and weariness, and his legs shook from exhaus- 
 tion. The great deserted field behind him, the 
 air, clear and transparent in spite of the shades of 
 night, the dew-soaked grass all was sunk in a deep, 
 insidious, luminous silence, the intensity of which 
 was felt by Romashov like a strong buzzing in 
 his ear. Rarely indeed might be heard from a 
 locomotive manoeuvring at the railway station a shrill 
 whistling which, in the 'solemn stillness of the night, 
 brought with it something impetuous, impatient, and 
 threatening. 
 
 Romashov laid himself on his back in the grass. 
 The fleecy white clouds right above him stood 
 motionless, but over them the round moon glided 
 rapidly on in the dark firmament which, cold and 
 bare and boundless, riveted Romashov's gaze. All 
 the illimitable space between earth and heaven seemed 
 to him fraught with eternal terror and eternal long-
 
 THE DUEL 255 
 
 ing. " There dwells God," thought Romashov, 
 and suddenly, with a nai've outburst of sorrow, anger, 
 and self - pity, he whispered passionately and 
 bitterly 
 
 " God, why hast Thou turned Thy countenance 
 from me ? What offence can I a miserable worm, 
 a grain of sand have committed against Thee ? 
 Thou art almighty, Thou art good, Thou seest and 
 hearest everything why hast Thou suffered injustice 
 and malice so to triumph over me? " 
 
 But instantly afterwards he was filled with alarm 
 at his blasphemous speech, and he went on to say 
 in fervour and anguish 
 
 " No, no ; forgive and forget my sinful words. I 
 know Thou art as wise as Thou art merciful, 
 and I shall never murmur any more. Do with 
 me what seems best in Thy sight. I will always 
 submit to Thy will with gratitude and a meek 
 heart." 
 
 Simultaneously with these pious words of penance 
 and reformation there stirred in the depth of his 
 soul a secret calculating thought that his solemnly 
 promised submission to our Lord's will would move 
 the All -seeing God suddenly to work, on his behalf, 
 a miracle whereby all the bitter sorrows and trials 
 of this day would appear only as a hideous 
 dream. 
 
 " Where are you? " shrieked just then a loco- 
 motive down at the station with a short, angry, 
 impatient whistle. Another engine at once answered, 
 in a hollow, threatening tone, " I am coming." 
 
 From the moonlit crest of the ravine's opposite 
 slope a soft rustle was heard. In order more easily 
 to detect the cause, Romashov raised his head from 
 the ground. A grey, shapeless, scarcely human 
 figure was sliding down to the bottom of the ravine.
 
 256 THE DUEL 
 
 In spite of the bright moonlight, it was difficult to 
 distinguish the night-walker in the high grass, and 
 only by the movements of his shadow was it possible 
 for any one to follow with the eye his course down 
 the declivity. 
 
 Now he was crossing the railway -line. " Judging 
 from everything," guessed Romashov, "he is a 
 soldier. Anyhow it's a human being ; but who 
 can it be? A drunkard or a sleep-walker? " 
 
 The strange figure had already crossed the rail- 
 way, stepped into the shade, and was climbing toil- 
 somely up the slope on which Romashov was. The 
 latter now saw distinctly that the wanderer was a 
 soldier, who, however, immediately afterwards dis- 
 appeared from Romashov's sight. Two or three 
 minutes elapsed before he again became visible. 
 A round -clipped head without a cap was slowly 
 lifted in Romashov's direction, who now recognized, 
 without difficulty, the left wing soldier in his own 
 half -company the unfortunate Khliabnikov. 
 
 Khliabnikov went on his way bareheaded and 
 with his cap in his hand, looking fixedly before 
 him. It was evident that he was labouring under 
 the influence of a mysterious inward force. He 
 passed so near Romashov that the latter's cloak 
 almost grazed his own. The moon's keen rays were 
 reflected in the motionless pupils beneath the un- 
 naturally wide-open eyelids. 
 
 " Khliabnikov, is it you? " cried Romashov. 
 
 " A -ah I " shouted the soldier, who stopped im- 
 mediately, and began to shake all over. 
 
 Romashov jumped up from the ground. He saw 
 before him a disfigured face, as pale as a corpse's, 
 with severed, bleeding lips, and one eye almost 
 closed up by a tremendous bump turning blue. In 
 the uncertain evening light the traces of the dis-
 
 THE DUEL 257 
 
 gusting violence that had been perpetrated gained 
 a still more horrible appearance. And as Romas - 
 hov gazed at Khliabnikov, his thoughts ran thus : 
 " Behold the man who with me brought shame 
 on the entire regiment to-day. We are both equally 
 to be pitied." 
 
 ' Where were you going, my friend? what's the 
 matter? " asked Romashov, in his tenderest tone, 
 and, without thinking, he put both his hands on 
 the soldier's shoulders. Khliabnikov stared at him 
 put of his uninjured eye with the wild look of 
 one who had been frightened out of his wits, but 
 he turned away at once. His bleeding lips, welded 
 together, slowly opened with a soft, smacking sound, 
 but all he could utter was a hoarse rattle. Romas- 
 hov suddenly experienced an intolerable feeling of 
 sickness, and he thought he felt in his chest and 
 abdomen certain symptoms which usually precede 
 fainting. 
 
 " Has some one beaten you, eh? Tell me ! Come 
 and sit down beside me." He pulled the soldier 
 by the sleeve of his coat down to the ground. 
 Khliabnikov obediently collapsed, like a dummy 
 fallen in a heap, and sank noiselessly down on the 
 damp grass beside Romashov. 
 
 ' Where were you going? " asked the latter. 
 Khliabnikov did not answer a word where he sat, 
 in a very unnatural and uncomfortable position, with 
 his legs straddling. Romashov noticed that his head 
 sank slowly, with scarcely perceptible little nods, 
 on his chest. Again Romashov heard the same 
 short, hoarse, rattling sound, and his whole soul 
 was rilled by an unspeakable pity. " Do I under- 
 stand that you wanted to run away? Put on your 
 cap and listen, Khliabnikov. At this moment I 
 am not your officer or superior, but, like yourself, 
 
 '7
 
 258 THE DUEL 
 
 only a lonely, unlucky, ruined creature. I can under- 
 stand how hard and burdensome it is for you to 
 live, therefore speak to me frankly, tell me all. 
 Perhaps you meant to kill yourself? " he added 
 in a hollow, whispering tone. 
 
 A gurgling noise was again heard in the soldier's 
 throat, but not a word passed his lips. At the 
 same moment Romashov noticed that his companion 
 in misfortune was shaking from head to foot as if 
 from a chill, and he was himself now attacked by 
 an unconquerable terror. This sleepless night passed 
 in feverish excitement ; this feeling of loneliness 
 and desertion ; the moon's unchangeable, oppres- 
 sive, cold gleam ; the ravine's black depth beneath 
 his feet ; the dumb, cruelly maltreated soldier at 
 his side all this seemed to him like a mad, in- 
 sufferable dream one of those dreams that are wont 
 to herald the approach of death. But directly after- 
 wards he was again seized by the same infinite 
 pity for the unfortunate victim beside him, and it 
 was clear to him at once how petty and insignificant 
 was his own sorrow in comparison with Khliabnikov's 
 cruel fate. With sincere tenderness he threw his 
 arm round the soldier's neck, drew him forcibly 
 to him, and said, with the warmth that belongs to 
 conviction 
 
 " Khliabnikov, you find life unsupportable, but, 
 my friend, believe me, even I am an exceedingly 
 unhappy man. The whole world wherein I live 
 is to me a puzzle. Everything is so savage, cruel, 
 and senseless. However, one must be patient, one 
 must learn to suffer." 
 
 Khliabnikov's bowed head fell suddenly on 
 Romashov's knee, which he embraced with both 
 arms. All his being shook with suppressed weeping. 
 
 -' I can't stand any more," he uttered at last,
 
 THE DUEL 259 
 
 "I'll bear it no longer. Oh, my God ! They beat 
 me, they mock me ; the sergeants shriek for 
 schnapps and money. Where is a poor devil like 
 me to get money? And then they beat me again 
 me, who have suffered from childhood from an 
 incurable pain a severe rupture." 
 
 Romashov bent down over his head, which shook 
 convulsively backwards and forwards against Romas - 
 hov's knee. He perceived the smell of the soldier's 
 dirty, unhealthy body, and the rank stench of his 
 cloak, which also served as a counterpane during 
 the cold nights in his tent. An infinite sorrow 
 for and disgust at himself, his profession, and the 
 whole world harrowed the young officer's soul. 
 With overflowing heart he rested his forehead against 
 Khliabnikov's burning head and stubbly hair, at 
 the same time whispering scarcely audibly 
 
 " My brother ! " 
 
 Khliabnikov grasped Romashov 's hand, on which 
 a few warm tears fell. Romashov even felt two 
 cold, clammy lips kissing his fingers, but he did 
 not withdraw his hand, and he spoke simple, calm- 
 ing, touching words, just as when one talks to a 
 weeping, injured child. 
 
 Then he escorted Khliabnikov back to the camp, 
 and then sent for Shapovalenko, the sergeant on 
 duty that day in the 6th Company. The latter 
 came out hurriedly, clad in an obviously imperfect 
 costume, peered for a while with a pair of drowsy 
 eyes, scratched himself both back and front with an 
 earnestness that was probably more than justified. 
 After several tremendous yawns he became gradu- 
 ally awake to the situation. 
 
 Romashov ordered him to release Khliabnikov 
 from any duties he might happen to have just 
 then.
 
 260 THE DUEL 5 
 
 ' Your Honour, this may perhaps be a little 
 premature." 
 
 " No arguing ! " shrieked Romashov in a furious 
 tone. " Tell the Captain to-morrow that you acted 
 on my instructions." Then turning to Khliabnikov, 
 he added : " We meet to-morrow, you know, at 
 my house," and received in reply a long, shy, grate- 
 ful look. 
 
 Romashov slowly turned his steps homewards 
 along the camp. A few words caught from a 
 whispered conversation in one of the tents caused 
 him to stop and listen : " You see, comrades," 
 says a subdued voice, " that this same devil sends 
 the soldier his very chief magician. When the 
 magician catches sight of the soldier, he roars at 
 him like this : ' What's a soldier to me? I'll eat 
 him I ' ' No,' replies the soldier, ' you can't do that, 
 old chap, for I myself am a magician ' ' 
 
 Romashov soon reached the ravine again. Once 
 more that indescribable feeling of disgust at life 
 and contempt of the inanity and senselessness of 
 the work of creation. Whilst descending the de- 
 clivity he stopped suddenly and raised his eyes to 
 heaven. Again he was met by the same infinite, 
 icy-cold firmament ; again he experienced the same 
 longing, mingled with fear and anguish, and almost 
 unconsciously he raised his fists threateningly against 
 heaven, and in the voice of a man foaming with 
 rage, in words of unspeakable blasphemy, challenged 
 his Maker's omnipotence, and dared Him, in proof 
 of it, to break off his arms and legs. 
 
 Romashov, deliberately and with his eyes shut, 
 threw himself down the precipice, and alighted un- 
 scathed on the railway bank. With two leaps he 
 gained the opposite slope, the top of which he 
 reached without stopping or taking' breath. His
 
 THE DUEL 261 
 
 nostrils were dilated, and his chest heaved 
 violently under convulsive efforts to regain his 
 breath, but in the depths of his soul there blazed 
 a proud, triumphant feeling of malicious joy and 
 defiance.
 
 XVI 
 
 THERE was a lesson on military drill going on in 
 the school of recruits. In a close room, on benches 
 arranged in a square, sat the soldiers of the 3rd 
 platoon facing one another. In the middle of this 
 square Corporal Syeroshtan walked to and fro. Close 
 by, walking backwards and forwards in the centre 
 of a similar square, was the non-commisioned officer 
 Shapovalenko . 
 
 " Bondarenko ! " cried Syeroshtan in a pierc- 
 ing voice. 
 
 Bondarenko brought his feet down on the floor 
 with a bang, and jumped up just like a jack-in- 
 the-box. 
 
 " Now, Bondarenko, suppose that you were stand- 
 ing at arms, and the commander came to you and 
 asked : ' What is that in your hands, Bondarenko ? ' 
 What ought you to answer? " 
 
 " A gun," replied Bondarenko after reflection. 
 
 " Wrong ! Do you mean to tell me you would 
 call it a gun? At home you might call it a gun, 
 certainly, but in the service it is called simply a 
 sharp -shooting infantry rifle of small calibre, maker 
 Berdan, number two, with a sliding bolt. Repeat 
 that now, you son of a ! " 
 
 Bondarenko gabbled over the words, which he 
 evidently knew by heart. 
 
 " Sit down ! " commanded Syeroshtan graciously. 
 
 "And for what purpose is the rifle given you?" 
 
 262
 
 THE DUEL 263 
 
 His stern gaze wandered round the class. 
 " Shevchuk ! you answer this question." 
 
 Shevchuk stood up with a morose expression, and 
 answered in a deep bass voice, speaking through 
 his nose, and very slowly, and in detached phrases, 
 as if there were a full stop after each : 
 
 "It is given to me in order that in time of 
 peace I may practise with it. But in time of war 
 that I may protect my Emperor and my country 
 from enemies." He stopped, scratched his nose, 
 and added obscurely : " Whether they be external 
 or internal." 
 
 " Right ! You know that very well, Shevchuk, 
 only you mumble. Sit down. And now, Ovechkin, 
 tell me, whom do we call external enemies?" 
 
 Ovechkin, a sprightly soldier from Orlov, answered 
 rapidly and with great animation, spluttering with 
 excitement : 
 
 " External enemies are all those nations with 
 whom we might go to war ; the French, Germans, 
 Italians, Turks, Europeans " 
 
 " Wait," Syeroshtan cut him short. " All that 
 is not in the text. Sit down. And now tell me 
 Arkhipov ! Who are our internal enemies ? " 
 
 He uttered the last two words very loudly, as if 
 to emphasize them, and threw a meaning glance 
 at the volunteer, Markouson. 
 
 The clumsy, pock-marked Arkhipov was obsti- 
 nately silent, and stood gazing out of the window. 
 Outside the service he was an active, intelligent, 
 clever fellow ; but in class he behaved like an 
 imbecile. Obviously the trouble lay in the fact 
 that his healthy mind, accustomed to observe and 
 think about the simple, straightforward affairs of 
 village life, was quite unable to grasp the con- 
 nection between hypothetical problems and real life.
 
 264 THE DUEL 
 
 For this reason he could not understand nor learn 
 the simplest things, to the great astonishment and 
 indignation of his platoon commander. 
 
 " We -11 ! How much longer am I to wait while 
 you get ready to answer? " cried Syeroshtan, begin- 
 ing to get angry. 
 
 " Internal enemies enemies " 
 
 "You don't know it?" cried Syeroshtan in a 
 threatening tone, and he would have fallen upon 
 Arkhipov, but, glancing with a side glance at the 
 officer, he contented himself with shaking his head 
 and rolling his eyes terribly. " Well, listen. In- 
 ternal enemies are those who resist the law ; for 
 example, who shall we - ? " He glanced at 
 Ovechkin's sharp eyes. " You tell us, Ovechkin." 
 
 Ovechkin jumped up and cried joyfully : 
 
 " Such as rebels, students, horse -stealers, Jews 
 and Poles. 
 
 Shapovalenko was occupied with his platoon close 
 by. Pacing up and down between the benches, 
 he asked questions from the " Soldier's Manual," 
 which he held in his hand. 
 
 " Soltuis, what is a sentry? " 
 
 Soltuis, a Lithuanian, cried, opening and shutting 
 his eyes rapidly in the effort to think : "A sentry 
 must be incorruptible." 
 
 ' Well, and what else? " 
 
 " A sentry is a soldier placed at a certain post 
 with a rifle in his hand." 
 
 " Right. I see, Soltuis, that you are beginning 
 to try. And why is he placed there, Pakhorukov? " 
 
 " That he may neither sleep, nor doze, nor smoke, 
 nor accept bribes." 
 
 " And the pass -word? " 
 
 " And that he may give the pass -word to the 
 officers who pass in and out."
 
 THE DUEL 265 
 
 " Right. Sit down." 
 
 Shapovalenko had noticed some time ago the 
 ironical smile on the face of the volunteer Fokin, 
 and for this reason he cried with extra severity : 
 
 " Now, volunteer 1 But is that the way to stand? 
 When your chief asks a question you should stand 
 as straight as a ramrod. What do you mean by 
 the Colours? " 
 
 The volunteer Fokin, with a University badge 
 on his breast, stood in front of the non-commissioned 
 officer in a respectful attitude, but his young, grey 
 eyes sparkled with laughter. 
 
 " By the Colours is meant the sacred Standard 
 of War under which 
 
 ' Wrong ! " broke in Shapovalenko angrily, 
 bringing the Manual down hard on the palm 
 of his hand. 
 
 " No, that is quite right," replied Fokin calmly. 
 
 " Wh-a-at ? If your chief says it is wrong, it 
 is wrong." 
 
 " Look in the book and see for yourself." 
 
 " I am your officer, and as such I must know 
 better than you. A fine thing, indeed ! Perhaps 
 you think that I want to enter a cadet school for 
 instruction ? What do you know about anything ? 
 What's a St-a-a-n-dard? Ste-ndard ! There's no 
 such word as Sta-a-andard. The sacred Stendard 
 of War " 
 
 " Don't quarrel now, Shapovalenko," put in 
 Romashov. " Get on with the lesson." 
 
 " Very good, your Honour ! " drawled Shapo- 
 valenko. " Only allow me to inform your Honour 
 that all these volunteers are far too clever." 
 
 " That will do, that will do ! get on with the 
 lesson." 
 
 " Very good, your Honour Khliabnikov ! Who 
 is the commander of this corps? "
 
 266 THE DUEL 
 
 Khliabnikov stared with wild eyes at the " non- 
 com." All the sound which came from his open 
 mouth was a croak, which might have been made 
 by a hoarse crow. 
 
 " Answer 1 " cried Shapovalenko furiously. 
 
 " His " 
 
 " Well ! ' His.' What else? " 
 
 Romashov, who had just turned away, heard him 
 mutter in a low voice : " You wait 1 Won't I just 
 give you a stroking down after the lesson." 
 But directly Romashov turned back to him he 
 said loudly and kindly : " His Excellency well, 
 how does it go on, Khliabnikov? " 
 
 " His infantry lieutenant," muttered Khliabni- 
 kov in a broken, terrified voice. 
 
 " A-a-a ! " cried Shapovalenko, grinding his 
 teeth. " Whatever shall we do with you, Khliab- 
 nikov ? I |a!m really afraid to think what will become 
 of you ; you are just like a camel, except that 
 you can't even make yourself heard. You don't 
 make the slightest attempt to learn. Stand there 
 until the end of the lesson, and after dinner come 
 to me, and I'll take you alone. Grechenko ! Who 
 is the commander of this corps?" 
 
 " As it is to-day, so it will be to-morrow, and 
 so on to the end of my life," thought Romashov, 
 as he passed from platoon to platoon. " Shall I 
 throw it all up ? Shall I leave the service ? I 
 don't know what to do ! " 
 
 After the instruction the men were kept busy 
 in the yard, which was arranged as a shooting 
 range. While one party practised shooting in a 
 looking-glass, another learned to hit a target with 
 a shot, and a third learned rifle -shooting. Ensign 
 Lbov's clear, animated tenor voice giving orders 
 to the 2nd platoon could be heard at a distance.
 
 THE DUEL 267 
 
 " Right turn firing company one, two ! " 
 " Compan-y ! " he dragged out the last syllable, 
 paused, and then, abruptly : " Fire ! " 
 
 There was a loud report, and Lbov in his joyful, 
 inspiring voice, cried again : 
 
 " Present 1 " 
 
 Sliva went from platoon to platoon, stooping and 
 walking slowly, finding fault and making coarse 
 remarks : 
 
 " Is that the way to hold a rifle? Any one 
 would think you were a deacon holding a candle ! 
 What are you keeping your mouth open for, 
 Kartashov? Do you want some porridge? Sergeant- 
 major, put Kartashov under arms for an hour after 
 drill. How do you fold up a cloak, Vedenyeev? 
 Look at it, you lazy fellow ! " 
 
 After the shooting practice the men piled their 
 rifles and threw themselves down beside them on 
 the young spring grass, already trampled on by 
 the soldiers' boots. It was a warm, clear day. The 
 air smelled of the leaves of young poplar trees, of 
 which there were two rows planted round the cause- 
 way. Viatkin again approached Romashov : 
 
 " Dreaming again, Yuri Alekseich," he said. 
 " What is the use of it? As soon as the drill is 
 over we will go to the club, and after a drink or 
 two you will be all right." 
 
 " I am bored, my dear Pavel Pavlich," said 
 Romashov wearily. 
 
 " It is not very cheerful, I admit," said Viatkin. 
 " But how can it be helped? The men must be 
 taught their business, or what would happen if war 
 suddenly broke out? " 
 
 ' What is war after all ? " said Romashov sadly, 
 " and why ? Perhaps it is nothing more than a 
 mistake made by all, a universal error, a madness.
 
 268 THE DUEL 
 
 Do you mean to tell me that it is natural to 
 kill?" 
 
 " Oh, the devil take your philosophy ! If the 
 Germans were to attack us suddenly, who would 
 defend Russia? " 
 
 " I know nothing about it, so I can't talk about 
 it," said Romashov shortly. " I know nothing, 
 and yet, take ' 
 
 " For my part," said Viatkin, " I think that 
 if those are your ideas about war, it would be 
 better for you to be out of the service. We are 
 not supposed to think in our profession. The only 
 question is, What could we do if we were not in 
 the service ? What use should we be anywhere 
 when we know nothing but ' Left ! Right ! ' We can 
 die, of course, that is true. And die we should, 
 as soon as we began to be in want, for food is 
 not provided gratis, you know. And so, Mr. 
 Philosopher, come to the club with me after drill." 
 
 " Very well," agreed Romashov indifferently. " If 
 you ask me, I should say that it's a hog's life 
 that we are leading ; but, as you say, if one thinks 
 so it is better to leave the service altogether." 
 
 While they talked they walked up and down, 
 and at length halted close to the 4th platoon. The 
 soldiers were sitting or lying around their piled 
 arms ; some of them were eating bread, for soldiers 
 eat bread all day long, and under all circumstances, 
 at reviews, at halting -places in the manoeuvres, in 
 church before confession, and even before physical 
 punishment . 
 
 Romashov heard a quietly provocative voice say : 
 
 " Khliabnikov ! I say, Khliabnikov ! " 
 'Yes?" said Khliabnikov gruffly, through his 
 nose. 
 
 " What do you do at home? "
 
 THE DUEL 269 
 
 ' Work," answered the other sleepily. 
 ' What kind of work, you blockhead? ' 
 
 " All kinds ploughing, cattle driving." 
 
 Romashov glanced at the grey, pitiful face of 
 Khliabnikov, and again was seized by an uneasy 
 pain at his heart. 
 
 " Rifle practice 1 " cried Sliva from the centre. 
 " Officers to their places." 
 
 They unpiled their arms and took their places 
 with much bustle. 
 
 " Close up ! " commanded Sliva. " Stand at 
 ease 1 " 
 
 And then, coming nearer to the company, he 
 shouted : 
 
 " Manual exercise count aloud. On guard I " 
 
 " One ! " cried the soldiers, and held their guns 
 aloft. 
 
 Sliva went amongst them in a leisurely manner, 
 making abrupt remarks : " Bayonets higher. Hold 
 the butt -end to you." 
 
 Then he again took up his position in front of 
 the company and gave the order : " Two ! " 
 
 ' Two ! " cried the soldiers. 
 
 And once more Sliva went amongst them to see 
 if they were doing the exercises correctly. 
 
 After the manual exercise by division they had 
 exercise by company, then turnings, form fours, 
 fixing and unfixing bayonets and other forms. 
 Romashov performed like an automaton all that was 
 required of him, but all the time the words so care- 
 lessly uttered by Viatkin were running through his 
 mind : " If I thought that, I would not stay in 
 the service." And all the arts of war the skilful 
 evolutions, the cleverness of the rifle exercise, and 
 all those tactics and fortifications on which he had 
 wasted nine of the best years of his life, which
 
 270 THE DUEL 
 
 would fill the rest of his life, and which not so very 
 long ago had seemed to him important and so full 
 of wisdom all had suddenly become deadly dull, 
 unnatural, inventions without value, a universal self- 
 deceit resembling an absurd dream. 
 
 When the drill was finished he and Viatkin went 
 to the club and drank a lot of vodka together. 
 Romashov, hardly knowing what he was doing, 
 kissed Viatkin and wept hysterically on his shoulder, 
 complained of his empty, miserable life, and also 
 that no one understood him, also that a certain 
 woman did not love him who she was no one should 
 ever know. As for Viatkin, he drank glass after 
 glass, only saying from time to time with con- 
 temptuous pity : 
 
 " The worst of you is, Romashov, that you can't 
 drink. You take one glass and you are all over 
 the place." 
 
 Then suddenly he struck his fist on the table 
 threateningly, and cried : "If they want us to die, 
 we'll die ! " 
 
 ' We'll die," answered Romashov pitifully. 
 "What is dying? A mere trifle! Oh, how my 
 heart aches ! " 
 
 Romashov did not remember going home and 
 getting into bed. It seemed to him that he was 
 floating on a thick blue cloud, upon which were 
 scattered milliards and milliards of microscopic 
 diamonds. His head seemed swollen to a tremendous 
 size, and a pitiless voice was calling out in a tone 
 which made him feel sick : 
 
 " One ! Two ! "
 
 XVII 
 
 FROM this night Romashov underwent a profound 
 inward change. He cut himself entirely adrift from 
 the company of his comrades, usually took his dinner 
 at home, never frequented the soirees dansantes of 
 his regiment, and ceased to indulge in drink. He 
 had grown older, riper, and more serious, and he 
 noticed this himself in the calm resignation with 
 which he bore the trials and adversities of JUfe. 
 Often, too, he recalled to mind the assertion he had 
 long ago picked up from books or in the way of 
 conversation, that human life is made up of periods 
 of seven years, and that, in the course of each 
 period, not only the organism, but also the character, 
 views taken of life, and inclinations are completely 
 renewed. And it was not so long since Romashov 
 had completed his twenty-first year. 
 
 The soldier Khliabnikov used to visit him, but at 
 first, however, only after being again urged to do 
 so. Afterwards his visits became more and more 
 frequent. During the first period he put one in 
 mind of a starved and whipped dog which flinches 
 from the hand held out caressingly ; but Romashov's 
 kindness and goodness gradually drove away his fear 
 and embarrassment and restored to him the faculty 
 of gratitude and confidence. With something akin 
 to remorse and shame, Romashov learned more of 
 Khliabnikov 's sad conditions of life and family cir- 
 cumstances. At home lived his mother, his father a 
 
 271
 
 272 THE DUEL 
 
 confirmed drunkard a semi -idiotic brother, and four 
 young sisters. The family's little plot of land had 
 been confiscated, contrary to all law and justice, by 
 the commune, which afterwards was kind enough 
 to shelter the poor wretches in a miserable hut. 
 The elder members were journeymen employed by 
 strange and occasional employers, the younger ones 
 went out to beg. Khliabnikov could, therefore, not 
 reckon on any support from his people, and, on 
 account of his delicate health, was not in a position to 
 undertake any remunerative manual labour in such 
 leisure as the service left him. But the soldier's 
 life is unendurable without money. He receives 
 twenty-two and a half copecks a month from the 
 State, and out of this he must defray the costs of tea, 
 sugar, soap, etc., and in addition, the indispensable 
 presents to greedy and unconscionable sergeants. 
 Woe betide the soldier who cannot, by presents, 
 money, or schnapps, bribe his torturers. He becomes 
 a helpless victim to insult and gross maltreatment, 
 and all the heavy and disgusting work in the camp 
 falls unmercifully to his lot. 
 
 With surprise, terror, and pain Romashov realized 
 that Fate had daily united him by the closest ties 
 with hundreds of these grey " Khliabnikovs," with 
 those defenceless victims of their own ignorance 
 and brutal coarseness, of the officers' heartless indif- 
 ference and cruelty, of a humiliating, systematic 
 slavery ; but the most horrible of all, however, was 
 the fact that not a single officer and, up to that 
 day, not even Romashov himself saw in these 
 stereotyped crowds of slaves anything beyond 
 mechanical quantities bracketed under the name of 
 companies, battalions, regiments, etc. 
 
 Romashov did his best to procure Khliabnikov, 
 now and then, a little income. Of course it was not
 
 THE DUEL 273 
 
 very long before both this and other unaccustomed 
 marks of humanity on the part of an officer became 
 noticed in the company. Romashov noticed very 
 frequently how the " non-coms." in his presence 
 acted towards Khliabnikov with comical, exaggerated 
 politeness in manner and tone. That even Captain 
 Sliva had got scent of Romashov's changed attitude 
 as regards the treatment of soldiers was palpable 
 enough, and more than once, from remarks made 
 by him 
 
 " D-d-damned Liberals come here to ruin the 
 people ought to be thrashed f-f -flayed alive, every 
 man Jack of 'em ! " 
 
 Now, as Romashov more and more abandoned 
 himself to loneliness and self-examination, those 
 curious, entangling contemplations, which a month 
 previously, at the time of his arrest, had such a 
 disturbing effect on him, now assailed him with 
 even greater frequency. These generally happened 
 after his duties for the day had been done, when he 
 strolled silently backwards and forwards, beneath the 
 thick, slumbering foliage of the trees near his 
 dwelling, and when, lonely and oppressed, he listened 
 to the solemn bass of the booming beetles or, with 
 dreamy eyes, gazed at the roseate and rapidly- 
 darkening sky. 
 
 This new life of his surprised him by ,the richness 
 of its shifting impression. In days gone by he 
 would never have even dared to entertain a notion 
 of what pure and calm joy, what potency and secret 
 depths, lie hidden in something so simple and 
 common as human thought. 
 
 Romashov had already determined irrevocably not 
 to remain on active service, but to join the reserves 
 as soon as his period of service as an officer by 
 examination had expired, but he did not yet know 
 
 18
 
 274 THE DUEL 
 
 where he would find suitable employment and an 
 income on which he might exist. He went over in 
 his mind all possible occupations post-office, 
 customs, telegraph service, railway, etc., etc. He 
 pondered on whether he might seek the post ,of 
 estate-manager, or enter the Civil Service. And 
 now he was astounded at the thought of all the 
 innumerable different trades and professions that 
 exist in the world. " How have they arisen," 
 thought he, " all these absurd, comical, wonderful 
 and more or less repulsive occupations prison - 
 warders, acrobats, chiropodists, professors, actors., 
 dog-barbers, policemen, jugglers, prostitutes, bath- 
 men, veterinary surgeons, grave-diggers, beadles, 
 etc., etc? And perhaps there's not a human 
 invention or caprice, however idiotic, paradoxical, 
 barbarous, and immoral it may be, that does not 
 at once find ready and willing hands to bring it 
 to completion and realization." 
 
 So, too, in meditating more profoundly, it struck 
 him what a countless number /of " intelligent " means 
 of bread-winning there are, which are all based on 
 mistrust 4 of the honour and morality of mankind 
 supervisors and officials of all sorts, controllers, 
 inspectors, policemen, custom-house officers, book- 
 keepers, revising-officers, etc., whose existence has, 
 without exception, found justification in man's 
 weakness for or lack of resistance against crime 
 and corruption . 
 
 He also called to mind priests, schoolmasters, 
 lawyers and judges in short, all those persons 
 who, according to the nature of their work, are in 
 continual and intimate Contact with other men's 
 ideas, strivings, sorrows, and sufferings. At the 
 thought of these, Romashov came to the tragic 
 conclusion that these individuals become more
 
 THE DUEL 275 
 
 quickly than others hard, heartless egoists, who, 
 wrapping themselves in the dressing-gown of selfish- 
 ness, very soon grow frozen for ever in dead 
 formalism. He knew that there also exists another 
 class, i.e. those who create and look after the 
 external conditions of human luxury and enjoyment 
 engineers, architects, inventors, manufacturers, and 
 all those who, by their united efforts, can render 
 mankind inestimable temporal services, and place 
 themselves solely at the disposal of the rich and 
 powerful. They think only of their own skin, of 
 their own nest, of their own brood, and they become, 
 in consequence of this, the slaves of gold and 
 tyranny. Who is there then to raise up, instruct, 
 and console the brutally used slave, Khliabnikov, 
 and say to him, " Shake hands with me, brother " ? 
 
 Pondering over similar subjects, Romashov 
 certainly probed slowly and fumblingly, but more 
 and more deeply, into the great problem of life. 
 Formerly everything seemed to him as simple as 
 simple could be. The world was divided into two 
 categories very different in size and importance. 
 The one, the guild of officers, constituting the 
 military caste, which alone attains power, honour, 
 and glory, the fine uniform of which confers an 
 uncontested monopoly of bravery, physical strength, 
 and unbounded contempt for all other living 
 creatures ; the other, the civilian element of society 
 an enormous number of indeterminable petty 
 insects ; another race, a pariah class hardly worthy 
 to live, obscure individuals to be thrashed and 
 insulted without rhyme or reason, whose nose every 
 little gilded popinjay may tweak, unless he prefers, 
 to the huge delight of his comrades, to crush their 
 tall silk hats over his victims' ears. 
 
 When Romashov thought, he stood apart from
 
 276 THE DUEL 
 
 reality ; when he viewed military life, as it were, 
 from a secret corner through a chink in the wall, 
 he gradually began to understand that the army 
 and all that pertains to it, with its false glamour 
 and borrowed plumes, came into the world through 
 a mad, cruel confusion of ideas in mankind. 
 " How," Romashov asked himself, " can so large 
 a class of society, in profound peace, and without 
 doing the country the least good, be suffered to 
 exist, to eat the bread of others, to walk in other 
 men's clothes, to dwell in other men's houses, only 
 with the obligation, in the event of war, to kill 
 and maim living creatures of the same race as 
 themselves? " 
 
 And more and more clearly it dawned on his 
 mind that only the two following domains of .activity 
 are worthy of man, viz. science and art and free 
 manual labour. And with new force the old dreams 
 and hopes of a future literary career arose in him. 
 Now and again, when Chance put into his hand a 
 valuable book rich in noble and fructifying ideas, 
 he thought with bitter melancholy of himself : 
 " Good gracious, how simple, clear and true all this 
 is which I myself, moreover, have known and experi- 
 enced 1 Why cannot I, too, compose something 
 similar?" He wished he could write a novel or 
 a great romance, the leitmotiv of which should 
 be his contempt and disgust for military life. In 
 his imagination everything fell so excellently into 
 groups, his descriptions of scenery became true and 
 splendid, his puppets woke to life, the story deve- 
 loped, and his treatment of it made him so 
 boisterously cheerful and happy. But when he sat 
 down to write, everything suddenly became so pale 
 and feeble, so childish, so artificial and stereotyped. 
 As long as his pen ran quickly and boldly over the
 
 THE DUEL 277 
 
 paper he noticed none of these defects ; but directly 
 he compared his own work with that of some of 
 the great Russian authors if only with a small, 
 detached piece from them he was seized at once 
 by a deep despair, and by shame and disgust 
 at his own work. 
 
 He often wandered, harassed by such thoughts, 
 about the streets in the balmy nights of the latter 
 part of May. Without noticing it himself, he in- 
 variably selected for these promenades the same 
 way i.e. from the Jewish cemetery to the great 
 dam, and thence to the high railway bank. It 
 happened occasionally that, entirely absorbed in his 
 dreams, he failed to notice the way he took, and, 
 suddenly waking up, he found himself, much to 
 his astonishment, in a wholly different part of the 
 town. 
 
 Every night he passed by Shurochka's window. 
 With stealthy steps, bated breath, and beating heart, 
 he prowled along the opposite side of the street. 
 He felt like a thief who, in shame and anguish, 
 tries hard to leave the scene of his crime as un- 
 observed as possible. When the lamp was extin- 
 guished in the Nikolaiev's drawing-room, in the 
 black window-panes of which there was only a weak 
 reflection of the moon's faint rays, Romashov hid 
 himself in the deep shade of the high hoarding, 
 pressed his crossed arms convulsively against his 
 breast, and uttered in a hot whisper 
 
 " Sleep, sleep, my beloved one, my queen ! I am 
 here watching over you." 
 
 In such moments he felt tears in his eyes, but in 
 his soul stirred, besides love, tenderness and self- 
 sacrificing affection, and also the human animal's 
 blind jealousy and lust. 
 
 One evening Nikolaiev was invited to a whist
 
 278 THE DUEL 
 
 party at the commander's. Romashov was aware 
 of this. When, as usual of a night, he passed 
 Nikolaiev's dwelling, he smelt, from the little flower- 
 bed behind the hoarding, the fragrant, disturbing 
 perfume of daffodils. He jumped over the hedge, 
 soiled his hands with the sticky mould of the bed, 
 and plucked a whole armful of soft, moist, pale 
 flowers . 
 
 The window of Shurochka's bedroom was open. 
 It was dark within, and not a sound could be heard 
 from it. With a boldness that astonished himself, 
 Romashov approached the wall, and threw the 
 flowers into the room. Still the same mysterious 
 silence. He stood quite still for three minutes, 
 listening and waiting. His heart-beats, so it seemed 
 to him, echoed along the whole of the long, dead- 
 silent street ; but no answer. Not the faintest sound 
 reached the listener's ears. With bent back, and 
 blushing for shame, he stole away on tip-toe. 
 
 The next day he received the following curt and 
 angry letter from Shurochka 
 
 Never dare to repeat what you did yesterday. Courting in the 
 Romeo and Juliet style is always absurd, particularly in this little hole 
 of a place. 
 
 In the daytime Romashov tried to obtain a distant 
 glimpse of Shurochka in the street, but he never 
 succeeded. He often thought he recognized the 
 mistress of his heart in some lady walking along. 
 With beating heart and thrills of bliss he hurried 
 nearer, but every time this turned out a bitter 
 disappointment ; and when he found out his mistake 
 he felt in his soul an abandonment and deadly void 
 that caused him pain.
 
 XVIII 
 
 ONE day towards the end of May, a young soldier 
 belonging to Captain Osadchi's company hanged 
 himself. Curiously enough, this suicide happened 
 on the same date as a similar dreadful event in the 
 previous year, and that, too, in Osadchi's company. 
 
 About this time drinking-bouts were arranged in 
 the regiment. These, in spite of their quasi-official 
 character, were not one whit inferior in coarseness 
 to the regular and more private gatherings inter 
 pocula. It is highly probable that such stimulating 
 entertainments were felt a special necessity when 
 men, who have been tied to one another by fate, 
 through a soul-destructive inactivity or senseless 
 cruelty towards their kind, have chanced to look 
 somewhat more deeply into each other's hearts, and 
 then in spite of prejudices, unscrupulousness, and 
 spiritual darkness suddenly realize in what a 
 bottomless pit of darkness they all are. In order to 
 deaden the pangs of conscience and remorse at a life 
 ruined and thrown away, all their insidious, brutish 
 instincts have to be let loose at once and all their 
 passions satisfied. 
 
 Shortly after the suicide in question, a similar 
 crisis occurred among the officers. Osadchi, as 
 might be expected, became the instigator and high- 
 priest of the orgies. In the course of several days 
 
 he organized in the mess, games of hazard more 
 
 279
 
 280 THE DUEL 
 
 recklessly than ever, during which fearful quantities 
 of spirit were consumed. Strangely enough, this 
 wild beast in human form soon managed to entice 
 pretty nearly all the officers of his regiment into a 
 whirl of mad dissipations. And during all these 
 carousals Osadchi, with unparalleled cynicism, in- 
 solence, and heartlessness, tried to provoke expres- 
 sions of disapproval and opposition, by invoking all 
 the powers of the nether-world to insult the name 
 and memory of the unhappy man who had taken his 
 own life. 
 
 It was about 6 p.m., Romashov was sitting at 
 his window with his legs resting on the window- 
 sill, and whistling softly a waltz out of Faust. The 
 sparrows and magpies were making a noise and 
 laughing at each other in the garden. It was not 
 yet evening, but the shadows beneath the trees grew 
 longer and fainter. 
 
 Suddenly a powerful voice was heard outside 
 singing, not without a certain spirit, but out of 
 tune 
 
 " The chargers are champing, snorting, and neighing, 
 The foam-covered bridle still holds them in sway." 
 
 Immediately afterwards the door was flung wide 
 open, and Viatkin rolled into Romashov 's room 
 with a loud peal of laughter. Although it was all 
 he could do to stand on his legs, he kept on 
 singing- 
 
 " Matrons and maidens with sorrowful glances 
 Watch till their hero 13 lost to their sight." 
 
 Viatkin was still completely intoxicated from the 
 libations of the preceding day, and his eyelids were
 
 THE DUEL 281 
 
 red and swollen from a night without sleep. His 
 hat was half off his head, and his long, waxed 
 moustache hung down like the tusks of a walrus. 
 
 " R-romuald, Syria's holy hermit, come, let me 
 kiss you ! " he roared in a way that echoed through 
 the whole house. " How long do you intend to sit 
 brooding here? Come, let us go. There's wine and 
 play and jolly fellows down there. Come ! " 
 
 Viatkin gave Romashov a sounding kiss and 
 rubbed his face with his wet moustache. 
 
 " Well, well, that will do, Pavel Pavlich. Is that 
 the way to go on?" Romashov tried to defend 
 himself against Viatkin 's repeated caresses, but in 
 vain . 
 
 " Hold out your hand, my friend. Osadchi is 
 kicking up a row down there, so there's not a pane 
 of glass unbroken. Romashevich, I love you. 
 Come here and let me give you a real Russian kiss, 
 right on the mouth do you hear? " 
 
 Viatkin with his swollen face, glassy eyes, and 
 stinking breath was unspeakably forbidding to 
 Romashov, but, as usual, the latter could not ward 
 off such caresses, to which he now responded by a 
 sickly and submissive smile. 
 
 " Wait and you shall hear why I came," shrieked 
 Viatkin, hiccupping and stumbling about the room. 
 " Something important, you may well believe. 
 Bobetinski was cleaned out by me to his last copeck. 
 Then he wanted, of course, to give an IOU. 
 ' Much obliged, dear boy, but that cock won't fight. 
 But perhaps you have something left to pledge.' 
 Then he drew out his revolver here it is, by the 
 way." Viatkin drew from his breeches pocket, 
 which followed, turned inside out, a choice little, 
 well-constructed revolver protected by a chamois - 
 leather case. " As you see, dear boy, the Mervin
 
 282 THE DUEL 
 
 type. ' Well/ I said to him, ' how much will you 
 venture on that twenty ten fifteen ? ' And can 
 you imagine such a curmudgeon ? The first time 
 only a rouble, on the ' colour/ of course. But all 
 the same hey, presto 1 slap-bang ! After five 
 raisings the revolver was mine and the cartridges 
 too. And now you shall have it, Romashevich, as 
 a keepsake of our old friendship. Some day you 
 will always think of me thus : ' Viatkin was always 
 a brave and generous officer.' But what are you 
 doing? Are you writing verses?" 
 
 " Well, well, what have you brought this for, 
 Pavel Pavlich? Put it away." 
 
 "All right. Perhaps you think it's no good? I 
 could kill an elephant with it. Will experiment 
 with it at once. Where's that slave of yours? He 
 shall get us a target on the spot. Wait a second. 
 Hainan ! slave ! squire-at-arms ! hi! ' 
 
 Viatkin rolled out of the door and then into 
 Hainan's closet, where for several minutes he was 
 heard kicking up a row. Suddenly he returned in 
 triumph with Pushkin's bust under his arm. 
 
 " Well I never, Pavel Pavlich ! Don't make a 
 fool of yourself. Let that alone." But there was 
 not sufficient force in Romashov's objections, and 
 Viatkin went on as he pleased. 
 
 " Rubbish ! You chatter like a starling. Now 
 we'll put this on the tabouret. Stand up, you ass. 
 I'll teach you, by Jove ! " 
 
 With these adjurations to poor Pushkin, Viatkin 
 returned to Romashov, took his stand at the 
 window-sill, and cocked his revolver. As he was 
 not sober, he swung the muzzle of the weapon here 
 and there, and Romashov expected every second 
 that one of them would be killed. 
 
 The distance was about five paces. Viatkin was
 
 THE DUEL 283 
 
 long in taking aim, during which the muzzle de- 
 scribed some dangerous curves in the air. At last 
 the shot rang out, and in Pushkin's right cheek 
 appeared a big black, irregular hole . Romashov was 
 for some moments deafened by the report. 
 
 " Well aimed ! " shrieked Viatkin, rejoicing. 
 " Here's your revolver, and don't forget my friend- 
 ship. Hurry on now with your uniform jacket and 
 come with us to the mess. Long live the glorious 
 Russian Army ! " 
 
 " Pavel Pavlich, I really cannot to-day," protested 
 Romashov weakly. He could not defend himself. 
 In his resistance to the other's strenuous pressing, 
 he neither found the proper decisive word nor the 
 tone of voice requisite for enforcing respect, and, 
 blaming himself inwardly for his despicable passive 
 weakness, he wearily followed Viatkin, who with his 
 shaky legs bravely stumbled among the cucumbers 
 and turnips in the kitchen-garden. 
 
 The officers' meeting that night was more than 
 usually noisy and stormy, and finally assumed an 
 absolutely mad character. First they caroused at 
 mess, then drove to the railway station to drink 
 wine, after which the orgy proceeded in the officers' 
 casino. Romashov held aloof at first, was angry 
 with himself for yielding, and experienced the feeling 
 of loathing that overcomes every sober individual 
 in a company of drunkards. The laughter struck 
 him as being artificial, the witticisms poor, and the 
 singing out of tune. But the hot red wine he drank 
 at the station mounted to his head and produced 
 in him a noisy, nervous merriment. A curtain of 
 millions, as it were, of grains of sand dancingi 
 round each other was spread before his eyes, which 
 were heavy with wine, and at the same time every-
 
 284 THE DUEL 
 
 thing seemed to him so enjoyable, comic, and 
 humorous . 
 
 The hours flew like seconds, and it was only when 
 the lamps of the salle- a- manger were lighted that 
 Romashov began to realize how the time had sped 
 and that night had set in. 
 
 " Gentlemen," called some one, " the ladies are 
 waiting for us. Let us be off to Schleyfer's." 
 
 4 ' Hurrah ! to Schleyfer's, to Schleyfer's." 
 
 The proposal was hailed with laughter and jubila- 
 tion. All got up and the chairs danced along the 
 floor. This evening everything, moreover, went off, 
 as it were, automatically. Outside the mess-room 
 door stood a whole row of phaetons, but nobody 
 knew who ordered them and how they came there. 
 Romashov was for some time tossed between 
 moments of semi-consciousness and the fully wide- 
 awake state and alertness of mind of a sober man. 
 Suddenly he found himself sitting in a carriage 
 beside Viatkin. On the front seat sat a third 
 person whose features Romashov could not dis- 
 tinguish in the darkness of the night, however much 
 he might, by violent jerks of his body sidewards, 
 bend forward to look closely at the unknown. The 
 latter 's face was quite dark. Now it shrunk up to the 
 size of a man's fist, at another time it stretched itself 
 out awry, and then seemed to Romashov extra- 
 ordinarily familiar. Romashov suddenly burst out 
 into a roar of laughter that sounded unnatural and 
 idiotic, and did not seem to come from himself, but 
 from some stranger in his immediate vicinity. 
 
 44 You're lying, Viatkin. I know very well, my 
 dear fellow, where we are going to," babbled Romas- 
 hov, in a drunken, charring tone. " You're taking 
 me to the girls, you rascal." 
 
 At that moment a carriage passed them with a
 
 THE DUEL 285 
 
 deafening noise. By the light of the lamp the 
 outlines of a couple of brown country horses 
 dragging quickly along in an awkward and ridicu- 
 lous gallop an open carriage with a drunken coach- 
 man slashing his whip in a frantic way, and four 
 no less intoxicated officers, were reproduced for 
 a second. 
 
 Consciousness and the faculty of reflection re- 
 turned to Romashov for a moment. Yes, it could 
 not be disputed ; he was actually on his way to a 
 place where women surrendered their bodies to 
 caresses and embraces for payment in cash. " Ugh ! 
 after all, it's perhaps the same thing in the end. 
 Women are women," shouted a wild, brutish, im- 
 patient voice within him. At the same time, there 
 rang in his soul a lovely, far-away, scarcely audible 
 music the memory of Shurochka, but in this un- 
 conscious coincidence there was nothing low, defiling, 
 or insulting. On the contrary, the thought of her 
 at this moment had a refreshing, soothing, and at 
 the same time exciting and inflaming effect on his 
 heart. 
 
 In a short time he would then find himself in 
 close contact with that curious, mysterious, and 
 much -vaunted species of women that he had never 
 gazed on before. He dreamt of how he would meet 
 their glances, take their hands, and listen to their 
 merry laughter and joyous songs, and he felt that 
 all this would bring him relief and consolation in his 
 incessant longing and torturing desire for Shurochka, 
 the only woman in the world who existed for him. 
 In all these dreams, however, there was not a trace 
 of degraded, sensual lust. As a dead -tired bird 
 on the wing rushes, in the cold and darkness of 
 an autumn night, blindly against the irresistibly 
 attractive flood of light from the lighthouse, so,
 
 286 THE DUEL 
 
 too, his soul, tortured by a cruel and capricious 
 woman, was drawn into this sphere of undisguised, 
 sensual tenderness and careless, boisterous merri- 
 ment. 
 
 Suddenly the horses made a sharp swerve to the 
 right, and at once the noise of the carriage and 
 the squeaking of the wheel -tyres ceased. The 
 carriage rocked here and there in the shallow cavities 
 of the deep, sandy road. Romashov opened his 
 eyes. Far beneath him and on a wide stretch of 
 land, a multitude of small lights or lamps here 
 and there cast their faint, uncertain glimmer. Now 
 they disappeared behind invisible trees and houses, 
 now they bobbed up before his eyes, and it looked 
 as if a huge, fantastic, disordered crowd of people 
 or a procession with torches and lanterns was moving 
 forward down the road. An acrid smell of worm- 
 wood, a big dark branch slowly waved up and 
 down over tlie heads of the parties who were being 
 driven along, and, at the same time, they found 
 themselves suddenly environed by a new atmosphere 
 cold, raw, and moist, as if it had arisen from a 
 vault . 
 
 " Where are we? " asked Romashov. 
 
 " At Savalie," shrieked in reply the dark figure 
 sitting on the box-seat, in whom Romashov now 
 recognized Lieutenant Epifanov. " We're at Schley- 
 fer's, you know. Haven't you ever been here 
 before? " 
 
 " Go to hell," grumbled Romashov. Epifanov 
 kept on laughing. 
 
 " Hark you, Yuri Alexievich, shall we tell the 
 little darlings in a whisper what an innocent you 
 are? Later on, you'll put all our noses out of 
 joint." 
 
 Again Romashov felt, half-unconsciously, that he
 
 THE DUEL 287 
 
 had sunk back into impenetrable darkness, until he, as 
 suddenly, found himself standing in a large room 
 with parqueted floor and Vienna chairs along the 
 walls. Over the entrance to the room, and over 
 three other doors leading to small, dark chambers, 
 lay hangings of red and yellow flowered cotton. 
 Curtains of the same stuff and colour flickered in 
 the draught from the windows opened on a gloomy 
 backyard. Lamps were burning on the walls, but 
 the great room was filled with smoke and the smell 
 of meat from the adjacent kitchen ; and the fumes 
 were only dispersed occasionally by the balmy spring 
 air entering through the window, and by the fresh 
 scent of the white acacias that bloomed outside the 
 house. 
 
 About ten officers took part in this excursion. All 
 seemed bent on solving the delicate problem of 
 contriving to shriek, laugh, and bawl at the same 
 time. Romashov strolled about the room with a 
 feeling of naive, unreflecting enjoyment, and, with 
 a certain astonishment and delight, gradually recog- 
 nized all his boon -companions Biek-Agamalov, 
 Lbov, Viatkin, Epifanov, Artschakovski, Olisar, etc. 
 Even Staff -Captain Lieschtschenko was discovered 
 there. He sat huddled up in a window with his 
 usual, eternal, resigned Weltschmerz grin. On a 
 table stood a respectable row of bottles containing 
 ale and a dark, thick, syrupy cherry -cordial. No 
 one knew who had ordered all these bottles. They 
 were thought like so much else that night to have 
 come of their own accord. Romashov drank, pro- 
 posed healths, and embraced every one he met, and 
 began to feel sticky and messy about his lips and 
 fingers . 
 
 There were five or six women in the room. One 
 of them a girl of fourteen dressed as a page, with
 
 288 THE DUEL 
 
 rose-coloured stockings sat on Biek-Agamalov's 
 knee and played with his epaulettes. Another 
 a big, coarse blonde in a red silk basquine and dark 
 skirt, and with powdered face, and broad, black, 
 painted eyebrows went straight up to Romashov. 
 
 " Gracious, my good sir, why do you look so 
 miserable? Come with me into that room," she 
 added in a whisper. 
 
 She threw herself carelessly on a table, and there 
 sat with one leg over the other. Romashov noticed 
 how the strong outlines of her well -formed knee 
 were shown off by the thin skirt. A shudder thrilled 
 him, and his hands trembled. 
 
 " What's your name? " 
 
 " Mine? Malvina." She turned away with an air 
 of indifference, and began swinging her legs. 
 " Order me a cigarette." 
 
 Two Jewish musicians came on the scene, one 
 with a violin, the other with a tambourine. Soon 
 a vulgar, hackneyed, screeching polka tune was 
 heard in the room, whereupon Olisar and Artscha- 
 kovski at once began to dance the cancan. They 
 hopped round the room first on one leg, then on 
 the other, snapped their fingers, wagged their hips, 
 and bent backwards and forwards with vulgar, 
 cynical gestures. This unattractive ballet was 
 suddenly interrupted by Biek - Agamalov, who 
 jumped off the table, shrieking in his sharp, pene- 
 trating voice 
 
 " To hell with the starar \ Out with the ragtag 
 and bobtail I " 
 
 Down by the door stood two young exquisites, 
 both of whom had many acquaintances among 
 officers, and had even been guests at the regimental 
 soirees. One of them was a Treasury official, the 
 other a landed proprietor and brother of the police
 
 THE DUEL 289 
 
 magistrate of the town. They both belonged to the 
 so-called " cream " of Society. 
 
 The Treasury official turned white, but forced a 
 smile, and answered in an affable tone 
 
 " Excuse me, gentlemen, but can't we join? We 
 are old acquaintances, you know. My name is 
 Dubiezki. We should not interfere with you 
 at all." 
 
 " Possibly in making love, but not when the fight 
 begins," added the magistrate's brother, who tried 
 to adopt a good-humoured tone. 
 
 " Out of this ! " screamed Biek - Agamalov. 
 " March to the door I " 
 
 " Gentlemen, by all means, put the starar out," 
 sneered Artschakovski. 
 
 A horrible confusion arose in the room. Tables 
 and chairs were thrown over ; the men shrieked, 
 laughed, and ^tamped with all their might. The 
 flames of the lamps rose like fiery tongues on high. 
 The cold night air penetrated through the open 
 windows, but without any cooling or calming effect 
 on all these half -demented fighting-cocks. The two 
 civilians had already been thrown into the back- 
 yard, where they were heard fiercely screeching and 
 threatening with tears in their voices 
 
 " Opritschniker, 1 brigands ! This affair will cost 
 you dear. We shall lodge a complaint with your 
 commander, with the Governor." 
 
 " Oo-oo-oo-oo-oo," Viatkin sneered in mockery, 
 whilst stretching out of the window. "Go to 
 blazes I u 
 
 It seemed to Romashov as if all the events of the 
 day had followed one another without a break, but 
 also without the least intelligible connection, just as 
 
 1 The name given to Ivan the Terrible's lifeguards and execu.' 
 tioners, 
 
 19
 
 290 THE DUEL 
 
 if a series of wild pictures in loud and motley colours 
 had been unrolled before his eyes. Again were 
 heard the scraping of the violin and the tambourine's 
 blustering noise. One of the " partners " had now 
 gone so far as to pirouette on the floor with nothing 
 but his shirt on. A pretty, slender woman, who 
 had up to then escaped Romashov's notice, with 
 dishevelled hair over her bare neck, and sharp, 
 prominent shoulder-blades, wound her arms round 
 poor Lieschtschenko's neck and sang in his ear in 
 her shrill soprano, and in unison with the violin's 
 awful melody : 
 
 " When consumption sets its mark, 
 And you're lying pale and stark, 
 And doctors are seen fumbling round your couch." 
 
 Bobetinski slung a glass of ale between the cur- 
 tains of one of the little, dark cabinets, whence very 
 soon proceeded an angry, but sleepy, thick voice 
 
 "Aren't you ashamed, sir? Who dares . . .? 
 Such a low swine ! " 
 
 " I say I how long have you been here? " asked 
 Romashov of the lady in the red basquine, whilst, 
 as it were, in an absent-minded way, he rested 
 his hand on her strong, warm knee. 
 
 She made some answer, but he did not hear it. 
 A fresh scene of savagery had absorbed all his 
 attention. Sub -lieutenant Lbov was driving before 
 him one of the musicians, and banging him on 
 the head all the time with the tambourine. The 
 poor Jew, terrified out of his wits, ran from corner 
 to corner, screaming and babbling; his unintelligible 
 jargon, with wholly ineffectual attempts to catch his 
 long, fluttering coat-tails, and incessantly glancing 
 behind him from the corners of his eyes at his
 
 THE DUEL 291 
 
 unmerciful persecutor. Everybody was laughing. 
 Artschakovski fell flat on the floor, and wriggled 
 with tears in his eyes and in alarming convulsions 
 of laughter. Directly afterwards the other Jew's 
 piercing yells were audible. Another of the com- 
 pany had snatched the violin, and thrown it down 
 with fearful violence. With a crashing sound that 
 harmonized, in an almost touching way, with the 
 musician's desperate cries for help, the instrument 
 broke into a thousand fragments . What followed this 
 Romashov never perceived, inasmuch as, for several 
 minutes, he was in a sort of dark " nirvana." When 
 he had somewhat regained the use of his reason, 
 he saw, as though in a fever -dream, that all in 
 the room were running round each other with wild 
 shrieks and gestures of despair. 'For an instant 
 the whole swarm gathered round Biek-Agamalov, 
 only in the next instant to be scattered like chaff 
 in all directions. The majority sought safety in 
 the little, dark cabinets. 
 
 " Out of it ! I won't stand a single one ! " 
 shrieked Biek - Agamalov in Berserker fury. He 
 ground his teeth, stamped on the floor, and struck 
 about him with his clenched fists. His face was 
 crimson ; the veins in his forehead from the roots 
 of his hair to his nose stood like strained ropes ; 
 his head was lowered like a bull's, and his un- 
 naturally prominent eyes with their bloodshot whites 
 were terrifying. He was unable to utter any human 
 sounds, but groaned, like a wild beast, in a vibrating 
 voice 
 
 " Ah-ah-ah-ah I " 
 
 Suddenly, whilst bending the upper part of his 
 body to the left with the suppleness of a panther, 
 he drew his sabre, as quick as lightning, from its 
 sheath. The broad, sharp blade described, with
 
 292 THE DUEL 
 
 a whistling sound, several rapid circles over his 
 head. 
 
 In frantic terror every living creature fled helter- 
 skelter from the room through doors and windows, 
 the women screaming hysterically, the men tramp- 
 ling down all that lay in their way. Romashov 
 was carried by the current irresistibly towards the 
 door, where an officer rushing past caused him, 
 by the sharp facet of his uniform -button, a long, 
 bleeding scratch on his face. The next moment 
 all stood whooping and yelling in the yard, except 
 Romashov, who alone remained by the door of the 
 room. He felt his heart beating with increased 
 force and quickness ; but the murderous, unbridled 
 scene filled him not only with terror, but also with 
 an intoxicating feeling of savage, exulting defiance. 
 
 " I will have blood ! " screamed Biek-Agamalov, 
 with gnashing teeth. The sight of the terror he 
 inspired deprived him of the last remains of under- 
 standing and reflection. With frantic strength and 
 rage he smashed, with a few strokes, all the furni- 
 ture nearest to him, and, after that, hurled his sabre 
 with such force at a Large mirror that the glass 
 splinters hailed on all sides. With another blow 
 he laid waste the table, which was crowded with 
 a number of bottles and glasses, the fragments and 
 contents of which were thrown all over the floor. 
 
 But just at that moment cried a piercing voice 
 of indescribable fury and boldness 
 
 " Fool ! Cad ! " 
 
 This insult was hurled by the same bare-headed 
 woman with naked arms as had just embraced 
 Lieschtschenko . This was the first time that 
 Romashov had noticed her. She was standing in 
 a recess behind the stove, leaning forward with 
 clenched hands tightly pressed against her hips,
 
 THE DUEL 293 
 
 and pouring out an uninterrupted flow of " Billings- 
 gate " with a rapidity and readiness which the vilest 
 market-woman might have envied. 
 
 " Fool I Cad I Scum ! I am not afraid of you 1 
 Fool 1 Fool ! Fool ! " 
 
 Biek-Agamalov lowered his sabre, and seemed, 
 for a moment, to lose all power over himself. 
 Romashov saw how his face grew whiter and 
 whiter, how his eyebrows puckered, and how the 
 yellow pupils first darkened and then hurled a 
 blinding flash of diabolical hatred and rage which 
 no longer knew bounds. His knees gave way, and 
 his head fell on his chest. At that moment, Biek- 
 Agamalov was no longer a human being. He was 
 transformed into a bloodthirsty wild beast straining 
 every nerve for the fatal leap. 
 
 " Silence ! " It sounded as if he had spat out 
 the word. Speak he could not. 
 
 " Scoundrel, brute, beast, I shall not be silent I " 
 shrieked the fury in the stove corner, her body 
 trembling all over at every word she hurled. 
 
 Romashov felt himself getting whiter and whiter 
 every moment. He felt a sensation of void in his 
 brain, a sensation of release from every oppressive 
 act of thought or reflection. A curious mixture of 
 joy and terror arose in his soul, just as the bubbles 
 of sparkling wine ascend to the edge of a goblet. 
 He saw Biek-Agamalov, whilst continually follow- 
 ing the woman with his eyes, slowly raise his sabre 
 above his head. An irresistible flow of frantic 
 jubilation, fear, inconsiderate boldness, carried 
 Romashov away. He rushed forward so rapidly 
 that he did not even hear Biek-Agamalov hiss his 
 last question 
 
 " Will you be silent ? For the last time " 
 
 Romashov, with a force he never thought he
 
 294 THE DUEL 
 
 was capable of, gripped Agamalov's wrist. During 
 the course of a few seconds and at a distance of a 
 couple of inches between their faces, the two officers 
 eyed one another without moving, stiff as if carved 
 out of stone. Romashov heard his comrade's quick, 
 panting breath ; he saw his eyes glitter with hate 
 and a thirst for revenge, and his lips foam .with 
 the spasmodic movements of his lower jaw ; but he 
 felt that the fire of wrath would, in a few minutes, 
 be extinguished in this man who had never yet 
 sought, of his own accord, to curb his passions. 
 But to Romashov this feeling of proud triumph 
 in a game of life and death, from which he now 
 knew he should come out the victor, was almost 
 intolerable. He knew that all those who were 
 anxiously watching this scene from outside also 
 realized in what deadly danger he stood. Out in 
 the yard and by the open windows there brooded 
 such a hush and quiet that, all of a sudden, a 
 nightingale a few paces off began to trill her 
 joyous lay. 
 
 " Let me go," came at last like a hoarse whisper 
 from Biek- Agamalov's bitten lips. 
 
 " Biek, you must never strike a woman," replied 
 Romashov calmly. " You would blush for it as 
 long as you lived." 
 
 The last sparks of rage and madness now died 
 out in Agamalov's eyes. Romashov drew a deep 
 breath as if from a long swoon. His heart beat 
 irregularly and quick, and his head was again heavy 
 and feverishly hot. 
 
 " Let me go 1 " shrieked Biek-Agamalov once 
 more in a fierce tone, and tried to release 
 himself. Romashov felt he would no longer be 
 able to keep his hold of him ; but he had no 
 further dread of his wrath. He said in a caressing
 
 THE DUEL 295 
 
 brotherly tone, as he laid his hand on his comrade's 
 shoulder 
 
 " Forgive me, Biek, but I know that a day will 
 come when you will thank me for this." 
 
 Biek-Agamalov with a loud snap stuck his sabre 
 into its sheath. 
 
 " All right, confound you ! " he screamed in an 
 angry tone, in which, however, there was a note of 
 shame and confusion. " We'll settle this matter 
 afterwards. But what right have you ? " 
 
 The valiant crowd in the yard now understood 
 that all danger was over for the present. With 
 loud, but not quite natural, peals of laughter, the 
 lot now rushed into the room. But he now seemed 
 extinguished, his strength exhausted, and there was 
 something apathetic and ironically contemptuous 
 about him. 
 
 Now Madame Schleyfer herself a massive lady 
 with a hard look, small dark pouches under her 
 eyes, disappearing eyelashes, and great layers of 
 fat on her neck and bosom entered the room. She 
 attacked first one and then the other of (the officers ; 
 took tight hold of one by a button, of another by a 
 sleeve, and howled to each of them who could stand 
 and listen her everlasting song 
 
 " Gentlemen, gentlemen, who will make good all 
 this ? Who will pay for the mirror, the furniture, 
 the bottles, the girls ? " 
 
 All this meanwhile was settled to the satisfaction 
 of the authorities by the name mysterious " bene- 
 factor " who had provided for everything else in 
 the course of this memorable excursion. The officers 
 left the room in groups . Every one of ithem inhaled 
 with delight the mild, pure air of the May night. 
 Romashov felt all his being thrilled with a certain 
 joyous agitation. It seemed to him as if all traces
 
 296 THE DUEL 
 
 of the day's orgies had vanished from his brain, as if 
 a pair of innocent fresh lips had repurified and 
 refreshed him by a soft kiss on his brow. 
 
 Biek-Agamalov came up to him, took his hand, 
 and said 
 
 " Romashov, come and ride in my carriage. I 
 wish you to do so." 
 
 And when Romashov, on one occasion during 
 the journey home, turned towards the right to 
 observe the awkward gallop of the horses, Biek- 
 Agamalov seized his hand and pressed it for a long 
 time warmly nay, so hard that it almost caused 
 pain. Not a word, however, passed between the two 
 officers during the whole way.
 
 . XIX 
 
 THE violent emotion felt by every member of the 
 company during the wild scene we have just depicted 
 found expression in a nervous irritability which, on 
 their return to the mess-room, took the form of reck- 
 less arrogance and gross misbehaviour to all who 
 happened to come across the officers on their way 
 home. A poor Jew coming along was stopped and 
 deprived of his cap. Olisar got up in the carriage, 
 and insulted, in the outskirts of the town, in the 
 middle of the street, all passers-by in a manner 
 which cannot be decently described. Bobetinski 
 whipped his coachman for no reason whatever. The 
 others sang and bawled with all their might ; only 
 Biek-Agamalov, who rode beside Homashov, sat all 
 the time angry, silent, and taciturn. 
 
 Notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, the 
 mess-rooms were brilliantly illuminated and full of 
 people. In the card and billiard-rooms and at the 
 buffet creatures with unbuttoned coats, flaming faces, 
 vacantly staring eyes and of uncertain gait, helplessly 
 collided with each other, heavily fuddled by the 
 fumes of wine and tobacco smoke. Romashov, who 
 was walking about and nodding to several of the 
 officers, also found among them, to his great aston- 
 ishment, Nikolaiev. He was sitting by Osadchi, 
 red in face and intoxicated, but holding himself 
 upright. On seeing Romashov approaching he eyed 
 
 him sharply for a few seconds, but afterwards turned 
 
 297
 
 298 THE DUEL 
 
 abruptly aside, so as to avoid holding out his hand 
 to the latter, meanwhile conversing with his neigh- 
 bour with increased interest. 
 
 " Viatkin, come here and sing," bellowed 
 Osadchi over the heads of the rest. , 
 
 " Yes, come let us sing," chanted Viatkin, in 
 reply, parodying, imitating, and caricaturing a 
 melody from the Church ritual 
 
 "Three small boys found lurching 
 Got an awful birching 
 At the parson's stile." 
 
 Viatkin imitated in quick succession and in the 
 same tone the strophes recited in the remainder of 
 the antiphon at Mass 
 
 "Sexton, parson, and his clerk 
 Thought the smacking quite a lark. 
 Then the beadle said, 'By hell, 
 Nikifor, you smack right well.' " 
 
 " Nikifor, you smack right well ! " 
 
 answered pianissimo in complete harmony the 
 hastily improvised choir of drunken officers, 
 seconded by Osadchi's softly rumbling bass voice. 
 Viatkin conducted the singing, standing on a 
 table in the middle of the room, whilst stretching his 
 arms in an attitude of benediction over the heads 
 of the " congregation." Now his eyes flashed terri- 
 fying glances of threat and condemnation ; at 
 another time they were raised to heaven with a 
 languishing expression of infinite beatitude ; then 
 he hissed with rage at those who sang out of tune ; 
 again he stopped in time by a scarcely perceptible 
 tremolo of the palm of his hand a run to a misplaced 
 crescendo .
 
 THE DUEL 299 
 
 " Staff- Captain Lieschtschenko, you're singing 
 damnably. Damn it, what a wretched ear ! " roared 
 Osadchi. " Keep quiet in the room, gentlemen. 
 No noise, please, when there's singing." 
 
 " Once on a time a farmer so rich 
 Who used to like iced punch " 
 
 continued Viatkin, in his improvised service of the 
 Church. His eyes, however, now began to smart 
 dreadfully from the dense tobacco smoke. Romas- 
 hov was reminded by the wet and sticky tablecloth 
 that he had not washed his hands since dinner. He 
 went out and made his way across the yard to a side 
 room called the " Officers' Shelter," which served 
 as a sort of lavatory. It was a cold, dismal little crib 
 with only one window. Several common cupboards 
 stood along the wall, and between them, in hospital 
 fashion, were placed two beds, the sheets, etc., of 
 which were never changed. Not a man in the entire 
 regiment could recollect when this room was swept 
 and cleaned. There was an intolerable stench there, 
 the main ingredients of which were rotting bed- 
 clothes, stinking boots, and bad tobacco. The room 
 was originally intended for officers of other regi- 
 ments who happened to be visiting the garrison town, 
 but it gradually became converted into a sort of 
 morgue for those who got dead drunk at mess. It 
 was almost officially designated as " the mortuary," 
 which name, by a dreadful irony of fate, received its 
 full justification from the fact that no less than two 
 officers and one soldier had committed suicide in 
 it during the few years the regiment had been 
 garrisoned in the town. Moreover, not a year 
 elapsed without one suicide taking place among the 
 officers of this regiment.
 
 300 THE DUEL 
 
 When Romashov entered " the mortuary " he 
 found two men sitting there on a bed near the 
 window. The room was dark, and it was jsome time 
 before Romashov recognized in one of the " guests " 
 ex -'Staff -Captain Klodt, alcoholist and thief, and on 
 those grounds expelled from the command of his 
 company. The other was a certain Ensign 
 Solotuchin a tall, lean, bald-headed, worn-out rake 
 and gambler, feared and despised wherever he went 
 for his evil, lying tongue and his conversation inter- 
 larded with coarse cynicisms and improprieties 
 a veritable type of the ensigns of the story- 
 books . 
 
 Between these two worthy " birds of a feather " 
 might be seen on the table the dim outline of a 
 schnapps bottle, an empty plate, and two full 
 glasses. The pair of boon companions were silent 
 when Romashov entered the room, and tried, as it 
 were, to hide themselves in the darkness ; but when 
 he leaned over them, they looked at him with a 
 sly smile. 
 
 " What, in the name of goodness, are you two 
 doing here? " asked Romashov, in alarm. 
 
 " Hush 1 " Solotuchin made a mysterious warning 
 gesture with his forefinger. " Wait here, and don't 
 disturb us." 
 
 " Hold your jaw ! " ordered Klodt in a whisper. 
 
 At the same moment the rattling noise of a telega 
 was heard somewhere in the distance. Then the 
 two strangers raised their glasses, clicked them 
 together, and drained the contents. 
 
 " But answer me. What is the meaning of it 
 all? " repeated Romashov in the same anxious tone. 
 
 " My little greenhorn," replied Klodt in a signifi- 
 cant whisper, " if you must know, it's only our 
 usual little morning repast ; but now I hear the
 
 THE DUEL 301 
 
 telega, Ensign," Klodt went on to say as he turned to 
 Solotuchin. " It's time then to finish our drink and 
 be off. What do you think of the moonlight? 
 Will it suit? " 
 
 " My glass is empty already," replied Solotuchin, 
 glancing out of the window at the moon's slender, 
 pointed sickle that stood drowsy and sleepy in the 
 sky, and hung down over the little slumbering town. 
 " But let's just wait a wee bit. S-sh ! I thought I 
 heard a dog barking." 
 
 And again they bent towards one another to 
 resume their mysterious conversation, carried on in 
 a low voice ; the spluttering tone and evident lack 
 of coherence witnessed clearly enough that the 
 schnapps had begun to take effect. From the salle- 
 d-manger hard by came now and then the melan- 
 choly, hollow tones 'of Viatkin's and Osadchi's im- 
 provised Mass for the Dead, which had a weird and 
 threatening ring about it in the silent night. 
 
 Romashov seized his head with both hands. 
 
 " I beseech you, gentlemen, to stop this. I can't 
 stand it any longer." 
 
 "Go to the devil ! " roared Solotuchin. " No, 
 stop, dear boy whither away? But, by all that's 
 unholy, you shall first drink a glass with two fine 
 fellows. Catch tight hold of him, Captain, I'll shut 
 the door." 
 
 With a yell of laughter the two scoundrels jumped 
 up to seize Romashov ; but the latter 's self-command 
 was exhausted. The whole hideous situation this 
 disgusting drinking-bout in the weird, dark room 
 with its insufferable, stifling atmosphere this 
 mysterious midnight meeting between two indi- 
 viduals who were a danger to society the vulgar 
 bellowing of the drunken officers and their blas- 
 phemous parody of the Russian Mass all this filled
 
 302 THE DUEL 
 
 him with frantic terror and nausea. With a piercing 
 shriek, he thrust Solotuchin from him, and, trembling 
 in every limb, rushed deliberately from the mortuary. 
 
 Common sense now urged him to go home, but a 
 strange, unfathomable inward force again drove him, 
 against his will, to the mess-room. There some of 
 the wine-soaked company were asleep on the 
 window-sills and chairs. A stifling heat prevailed, 
 and, in spite of the wide-open windows, the 
 drowsily burning lights and lamps were never 
 reached by a quickening draught of air. The poor, 
 dead-tired soldiers who attended to the waiting could 
 scarcely stand on their legs, and every moment 
 stifled a yawn, but as yet none of the champion 
 boozers had entertained a thought of breaking up. 
 
 Viatkin had again 'taken his place on a table, 
 and was singing in his high, caressive tenor 
 voice 
 
 " Swift as the ocean's 
 Roaring billows, 
 Vanishes life in eternity." 
 
 There were several officers in the regiment with 
 really beautiful voices, which even now were very 
 effective in spite of the drink. 
 
 This simple, plaintive melody exercised, at this 
 moment, an ennobling influence on all, and more 
 than one of them experienced a pricking, remorseful 
 feeling at the thought of his worthless, sinful life. 
 
 "Once you're in your coffin, 
 Soon the world forgets your name," 
 
 continued Viatkin in a voice of emotion, and his 
 sleepy but good eyes were dimmed with tears. 
 Artschakovski seconded him with unimpeachable 
 care. To make his voice thrill he grasped his larynx
 
 THE DUEL 303 
 
 with two fingers and shook it. Osadchi accom- 
 panied it all with his heavy, long-drawn, organ notes . 
 After the singing there reigned a deep silence for 
 a few moments. Suddenly Osadchi began again to 
 recite in a subdued tone and eyes cast down 
 
 " All ye who wander in sorrow's heavy, narrow road 
 
 " No, that's enough of it," a voice exclaimed. 
 ' This is now, I suppose, the tenth time we have 
 taken up this cursed Mass of Requiem " 
 
 But the rest had already intoned the solemn 
 melody that divides the recitative of the antiphon, 
 and once more, in the reeking and dirty room, 
 resounded the requiem over St. John of Damascus in 
 clear, full-voiced strains that express in so masterly 
 a way the inconsolable sorrow for death's inexorable 
 cruelty 
 
 "All ye who believe in Me enter into the joy of My Father." 
 
 Artschakovski, who was as familiar with the 
 ritual as the most experienced choir-singer, at once 
 repeated the following answer in accordance with 
 the text 
 
 "With our whole soul we all praise," etc. 
 
 And so the whole antiphon was chanted ; but when 
 Osadchi 's turn came to take up the recitation for 
 the last time, he lowered his head like an infuriated 
 bull, the veins in his neck swelled, and as he directed 
 his melancholy, cruel, and threatening glances to- 
 wards those present, he declaimed in a half-singing 
 tone, and in a voice that resembled the roar of 
 distant thunder 
 
 " Give, O Lord, Thy departed slave, Nikifor, 
 A blessed departure hence and eternal rest."
 
 304 THE DUEL 
 
 In the midst of this lofty and pious invocation he 
 stopped short, and, to the horror of the bystanders, 
 uttered two words of the most blasphemous, cynical,, 
 and disgusting import . 
 
 Romashov jumped up, and thumped his fist, like 
 a madman, on the table. 
 
 " Be silent ! I forbid this," he roared in a voice 
 trembling with anger and pain. " What are you 
 laughing at, Captain Osadchi ? You ought to be 
 ashamed. Your eyes are mocking, but I see and 
 know that remorse, terror, and the tortures of hell 
 are raging in your heart." 
 
 A hideous silence on the part of all followed this 
 outbreak of temper. Then a voice from the crowd 
 was heard to exclaim 
 
 " Is he drunk?" 
 
 These three words relaxed all the terrible tension 
 of the situation ; but at the same moment let loose 
 afresh just as a few hours previously in Schleyfer's 
 den of infamy all the evil spirits of orgy. There 
 was shrieking, hooting, stamping, jumping, and 
 dancing ; the whole room was turned in a trice into 
 an indescribable, savage, motley chaos. Viatkin, 
 who jumped on to a table, hit his head against the 
 big hanging lamp, which then swayed in awful 
 zigzag curves, producing for some time a fantastic 
 series of dissolving views on the ceiling and walls, on 
 which drunken, frantic human beings were depicted 
 as marvellous, gigantic shapes, or as huddled, 
 dwarfish figures resembling embryos. 
 
 The debauch seemed at last to reach its height. 
 All these wretched creatures were possessed, as it 
 were, by a savage, exultant, ruthless fiend who, 
 mocking at all the laws of sense and decency, forced 
 his victims, by blasphemies, oaths, and all kinds of 
 shamelessness, to abdicate the last shreds of their 
 human dignity.
 
 THE DUEL 305 
 
 Romashov, in the smoke and stuffiness, suddenly, 
 caught sight of a person with features distorted by 
 rage and incessant hooting, which for that reason 
 seemed to him, in the first instant, unrecognizable. 
 It was none other than Nikolaiev, who, now foaming 
 with hate and fury, roared to his enemy : 
 
 " You're a disgrace to the whole regiment, you 
 and Nasanski ! Not a word or, by God ! I'll " 
 
 Romashov felt that some one was pulling him, 
 gently and cautiously, a few paces backwards. He 
 turned round and recognized Agamalov, but at the 
 same instant forgot him, and turned quickly round 
 to Nikolaiev. White with suppressed rage, he 
 answered in a low, hoarse voice and a forced and 
 bitter smile 
 
 " What reason have you to mention Nasanski's 
 name? But perhaps you have some private, secret 
 cause for hating him? " 
 
 " Rascal, scoundrel, your hour is come ! " 
 screamed Nikolaiev in a loud, trembling voice. 
 With flashing eyes he raised his tightly clenched fist 
 to Romashov 's face, but the expected blow never 
 fell. Romashov experienced a momentary fear, 
 together with a torturing, sickening sensation in 
 his chest and ribs, and he now noticed, for the first 
 time, that he was grasping some object with the 
 fingers of his right hand. Then withj a rapid move- 
 ment he threw the remains of his half -emptied glass 
 of ale into Nikolaiev 's face. 
 
 Instantly after this a violent blow in the region 
 of his left eye struck him like a deafening thunder- 
 clap, and with the howl of a wounded wild beast, 
 Romashov rushed at his foe. A heavy fall, and the 
 two rolled over one another on the ground with 
 furious blows and kicks. A thick cloud of dust 
 eddied round the combatants ; chairs and tables were 
 
 20
 
 3o6 THE DUEL 
 
 
 
 flung in all directions, but the two continued, with 
 unabated fury, to force, in turn, each other's head 
 against the filthy floor, and panting and with rattling 
 throats, tried to tear each other to pieces . Romashov 
 knew he had managed somehow or other to get his 
 fingers well into 'Nikolaiev's mouth at one of the 
 corners, and he strove with all his might to rend 
 Nikolaiev's cheek, with the object of destroying those 
 hateful features for all time. He himself, however, 
 felt no pain when his head and elbows were bumped 
 time after time, in the course of the fight, against the 
 hard floor. 
 
 He had not the slightest notion as to how the 
 battle finally ended. He suddenly found himself 
 standing in a corner, plucked from the fight by 
 kindly hands, and, by the same well-meaning helper, 
 prevented from renewing his attack on Nikolai ev. 
 Biek-Agamalov handed Romashov a glass of water, 
 and his teeth could be heard chattering, through 
 the convulsive twitchings of his lower jaw, against 
 the side of the glass. His uniform was torn to tatters 
 in the back and elbows, and one shoulder-strap 
 swung hither and thither on its torn fastening. 
 Romashov was unable to speak, but his silent lips 
 moved incessantly in fruitless efforts to whisper 
 audibly 
 
 " I'll show him. I challenge him." 
 
 Old Liech, who had been in a delightful slumber 
 at the edge of his table during all that fearful 
 row, now arose fully awake, sober, and severe in 
 countenance, and, in a bitter and hectoring tone 
 rarely employed by him, said 
 
 " Gentlemen, in my capacity as the eldest here 
 present, I order you all to leave the mess instantly, 
 and to go to your respective quarters. A report 
 of what has taken place here to-night is to be
 
 THE DUEL 307 
 
 handed in to the commander of the regiment to- 
 morrow." 
 
 The order was obeyed without the slightest demur. 
 All departed, cowed and shamefaced, and conse- 
 quently shy at meeting each other's glances. Each 
 individual dreaded to read in his comrade's eyes his 
 own shame and self -contempt, and they all gave 
 one the impression of dirty little malicious animals, 
 to whose dim and undeveloped brains a gleam of 
 human understanding had suddenly managed to 
 grope its way. 
 
 Day began to dawn. A delightful, glorious morn- 
 ing with a clear, fleckless sky, refreshing coolness, 
 and infinite harmony and peace. The moist trees, 
 wrapped in thin, curling exhalations arising from the 
 earth, and scarcely visible to the eye, had just 
 awakened silently and imperceptibly from their 
 deep, mysterious, nocturnal sleep. And when 
 Romashov, on his way home, glanced at them, at 
 the sky, and at the grass faintly sparkling like silver 
 in the dew, 'he felt himself so low, vile, degenerate, 
 and disgusting that he realized, with unutterable 
 melancholy, how unworthy he was to be greeted 
 by the innocent, smiling child -eyes of awakening 
 Nature.
 
 XX 
 
 ON that same day it was Wednesday Romashov 
 received the following curt official communication : 
 
 The Court of Honour of the th Infantry Regiment hereby 
 requests Sub-lieutenant Romashov to attend at 6 p.m. the officers' 
 common-room. Dress : ordinary uniform. 
 
 LIEUTENANT-COLONEL MIGUNOV, 
 President of the Court. 
 
 On perusing the letter, Romashov could not re- 
 strain an ironical smile. This so-called " ordinary 
 uniform," i.e. undress uniform with shoulder-knots 
 and belt, was to be worn, under the most extraordi- 
 nary circumstances, before the Court, for public 
 reprimand, when .appearing for examination by the 
 commander of his regiment, etc., etc. 
 
 At 6 p.m. Romashov put in an appearance at the 
 mess, and told the orderly to send in his name to 
 the president. The answer was to the effect that 
 he was to wait. Romashov sat down by an open 
 window in the dining-room, took up a paper and 
 began to read ; but he did not understand a word 
 of the contents : everything seemed to him so un- 
 interesting as he cast his eyes mechanically down 
 one column after another. Three officers who were 
 in the mess before Romashov returned his salutation 
 with marked coldness, and continued their conver- 
 sation in a low voice, with the obvious intention of 
 
 preventing Romashov from catching what they were 
 
 308
 
 THE DUEL 309 
 
 saying. Only one of them, Michin, pressed Romas - 
 hov's hand long and warmly, with moist eyes, blush- 
 ing and tongue-tied. He at once turned away, put 
 on his cloak and hat hurriedly and awkwardly, and 
 ran out of the room. 
 
 Nikolaiev shortly afterwards entered through the 
 buffet. He was pale, his eyelids were of a bluish 
 hue, his left hand was shaking with spasmodic 
 twitches, and just below his temples a bluish swell- 
 ing was visible. At once the recollection of the 
 fight on the previous day came to Romashov with 
 painful distinctness. He hung his head, frowned, 
 and, almost annihilated with shame, hid himself 
 behind his newspaper. He closed his eyes, and 
 listened in nervous tension to every sound in the 
 room. 
 
 Romashov heard Nikolaiev order a glass of 
 cognac from the waiter, and then greet one of the 
 company. After that he walked up to where Romas- 
 hov was sitting, and passed him quite closely. 
 Somebody left the room, the door of which was 
 shut again. A few seconds later Romashov heard 
 in a whispering tone behind him 
 
 " Don't look back. Sit still and listen carefully 
 to what I have to say." 
 
 It was Nikolaiev. The newspaper shook in 
 Romashov's hands. 
 
 " As you're aware, all conversation between us is 
 now forbidden ; but damn all these French niceties. 
 What occurred yesterday can never be put straight 
 again, made little of, or be consigned to oblivion. 
 In spite of everything, however, I regard you as 
 a man of conscience and honour. I implore you 
 do you hear? I implore you, not a word about 
 my wife and the anonymous letters. You under- 
 stand me ?. "
 
 310 THE DUEL 
 
 Romashov, who was hidden by the newspaper 
 from the eyes of his brother officer, made a slow 
 inclination of his head. The sound of steps crunch- 
 ing the sand was audible from the courtyard. 
 Romashov allowed a few minutes to elapse, after 
 which he turned round and glanced through the 
 window. Nikolaiev had gone. 
 
 ' Your Honour ! " the orderly suddenly stood, as 
 if he had risen from the earth, at Romashov's side. 
 " I am ordered to ask you to walk in." 
 
 Along one side of the wall were placed several 
 card tables, over which a green cloth had been 
 spread. Behind these tables sat the members of 
 the court, with their backs to the window. In con- 
 sequence of this, it was difficult to distinguish their 
 faces. In the midst of them, in an arm-chair, 
 was seated Lieutenant -Colonel Migunov, the presi- 
 dent a fat, pursy man without a neck, but with 
 big, round shoulders which protruded in quite an 
 unnatural manner. On each side of Migunov sat 
 Lieutenant -Colonels Rafalski and Liech, and more- 
 over, on the right, Osadchi and Peterson ; on the 
 left, Captain Duvernois and the commissary to the 
 regiment, Staff -Captain Doroshenko. The table in 
 front of all these gentlemen was virtually empty, 
 except that before Doroshenko, the court prosecutor - 
 in -ordinary, lay a heap of papers. It was cold 
 and dark in the great, bare room, although out-of- 
 doors the sunshine was gloriously warm. Everywhere 
 the nose was assailed by a drowsy smell of mustiness 
 and rotting, moth-eaten furniture. 
 
 The president laid his big, white, fat hands on 
 the tablecloth, examined them minutely, and then 
 began in a dry, official tone 
 
 " Sub -lieutenant Romashov, the Officers' Court of 
 Honour, which meets to-day by order of the com-
 
 THE DUEL 311 
 
 mander of the regiment, is directed to examine 
 closely into the circumstances of the deplorable and, 
 to the officers as a body, disgraceful scene that 
 took place between you and Lieutenant Nikolaiev 
 last night, and it is incumbent on you to render to 
 us a most punctilious account of what you have 
 to say with regard to this painful affair." 
 
 Romashov stood before his judges with his arms 
 hanging down, and plucked at the fur lining of 
 his cap. He felt like a hunted animal, but at the 
 same time as clumsy, feeble, and indifferent to 
 everything as a schoolboy just " ploughed " at an 
 examination is to his teachers' threats and his school- 
 fellows' jeers. Coughing and stammering, in un- 
 connected phrases and with contradictions and 
 repetitions, Romashov began his report. At the 
 same time, and whilst slowly observing the high 
 " tribunal " seated before him, he made a sort of 
 appraisement of the private or personal feelings of 
 its individual members towards him. " Migunov 
 has a heart of stone, and it is a matter of supreme 
 indifference to him how the affair turns out ; but 
 the place of honour as president and the great 
 responsibility attached to it are, in the highest de- 
 gree, flattering to his vanity. Lieutenant -Colonel 
 ' Brehm ' is looking miserable. Oh, you good old 
 chap, perhaps you are sitting thinking of that ten- 
 rouble note which was never returned to you ? Old 
 Liech looks glum. He's sober to-day in honour 
 of the occasion, but the pouches under his eyes 
 are bigger than usual. He's not my enemy, but 
 has so many sins of his own to answer that he must 
 take advantage of the occasion, and play the part 
 of guardian and protector of morality and the 
 ' honour of an officer.' So far as Osadchi and 
 Peterson are concerned, they are both notoriously
 
 312 THE DUEL 
 
 my enemies. By invoking the law, I might cer- 
 tainly challenge Osadchi the whole of the row 
 began through his blasphemously parodying the Mass 
 for the Dead but what then? The result in any 
 case will be the same. Peterson smiles out of one 
 corner of his mouth in his usual snake -like way. 
 I am just wondering what share he had in those 
 anonymous letters . Duvernois a sleepy beast, whose 
 great, troubled eyes put one in mind of a cuttle- 
 fish's. Ah, yes, I've never been one of Duvernois's 
 favourites, and just as little of Doroshenko's. Yuri 
 Alexievich, my dear boy, the prospect does indeed 
 look gloomy for you." 
 
 " One instant, if you please," interrupted Osadchi. 
 " President, will you permit me to put a ques- 
 tion? " 
 
 " Certainly," replied Migunov, with a gracious 
 nod. 
 
 " Tell me, Sub-lieutenant Romashov," began 
 Osadchi, in an affectedly imposing and drawling 
 tone, " where were you before you came to the 
 mess in such an inexcusable condition?" 
 
 Romashov blushed deeply, and felt big drops 
 of sweat on his forehead. 
 
 " I was I was," he stammered, " I was in a 
 brothel," he added almost in a whisper. 
 
 " Ha, ha in a brothel," repeated Osadchi, as he 
 purposely raised his voice and pronounced every 
 word with unsparing distinctness. " And no doubt 
 you had drinks there." 
 
 " Yes, I had been drinking," answered Romashov, 
 in an abrupt tone. 
 
 " I have no wish to put any more questions," 
 said Osadchi, turning with a bow to the president. 
 
 " Sub -lieutenant, be good enough to continue 
 your report," resumed Migunov, " You remember
 
 THE DUEL 313 
 
 you have acknowledged that you threw the glass 
 of ale at Nikolaiev well?" 
 
 Romashov began his story again as unmethodi- 
 cally and unconnectedly as before, but honourably 
 endeavouring not to give any details. He had 
 already, in an indirect way and with much shame, 
 succeeded in expressing the regret he felt at his 
 unworthy conduct, .when he was once more inter- 
 rupted, this time by Captain Peterson. The latter 
 was rubbing his long, yellow -wax coloured hands 
 with their sharp, dirty finger-nails just as if he 
 were washing himself, and said in his studiously 
 polite nay, almost friendly thin, wheedling voice 
 
 '" Ah, all that is quite fit and proper, and such a 
 voluntary confession, in a way, does you credit ; 
 but tell ( me, were you not, before this painful story 
 began, in the habit of visiting Lieutenant Nikolaiev 's 
 house? " 
 
 Romashov drew himself up and, looking straight, 
 not at Captain Peterson, but at Migunov, replied 
 bluntly : 
 
 " That is true, but I cannot understand what 
 that has to do with the matter." 
 
 " Pray don't get excited," exclaimed Peterson. 
 " I only want you to answer my questions. Tell 
 me then, was there any special cause of mutual 
 enmity between you and Lieutenant Nikolaiev ? I 
 do not mean any difference in the service, but a 
 cause of a quite er if I may so put it, domestic 
 nature? " 
 
 Romashov pulled Jiimself up to his full height, 
 and his glance pierced with undisguised hatred his 
 enemy's treacherous, black, consumptive eyes. 
 
 " I have not visited Lieutenant Nikolaiev 's home 
 more frequently than those of my other acquaint- 
 ances," he replied in a hard and cutting tone. " No
 
 314 THE DUEL 
 
 previous enmity has existed between us. The whole 
 thing happened unexpectedly and accidentally, when 
 we were both the worse for liquor." 
 
 " Heh, heh, heh, we have already heard about 
 the insobriety," Captain Peterson chimed in ; " but 
 I will ask you once more, had not an unfriendly 
 meeting already taken place between you and Lieu- 
 tenant Nikolaiev ? I do not for an instant suggest 
 that you had quarrelled or come to blows, but quite 
 simply that how shall I put it? you were a little 
 at variance in your views of certain scandalou,'sj 
 reports and intrigues? " 
 
 " President, ant I bound to reply to all questions 
 that are put to me? " exclaimed Romashov. 
 
 ' That rests entirely with you," replied Migunov 
 coldly. ' You can, if you wish, absolutely refuse 
 to answer. You can also commit your answer to 
 writing. That is your privilege." 
 
 " In such case I hereby declare that I will not 
 answer any of Captain Peterson's questions, and 
 that not only in my interest but in his." 
 
 After Romashov had answered a few questions 
 of minor importance the examination was declared 
 closed. Nevertheless, he had on two occasions to 
 give the court supplementary information, first in 
 the evening of the same day, and then again on the 
 day following, viz., Thursday morning. However 
 careless and inexperienced Romashov might be in 
 all the practical circumstances of life, he neverthe- 
 less saw soon enough that the court was performing 
 its functions in the most negligent and indiscreet 
 way, and had therefore been guilty, not only of a 
 revolting lack of tact, but also of utter ille- 
 gality. In defiance of Section 149 of the " Statute 
 concerning Discipline," by which every communica- 
 tion to unauthorized persons of what takes place at
 
 THE DUEL 315 
 
 such examinations is in plain language strictly 
 forbidden, the members of the " Court of Honour " 
 did not scruple to relate everything straight off to 
 their wives and relations. The latter spread the 
 scandal still further among the other ladies of 
 " Society," who in their turn discussed the matter 
 with their maidservants, charwomen, etc. Before 
 twenty -four hours had elapsed Romashov was the 
 talk of the entire town and " hero of the day." 
 When he passed along the street he was gazed at 
 from windows and doors, between the hedge -posts 
 of backyards, and from the vantage of garden - 
 bushes and arbours. Women from a good distance 
 off pointed at him with their finger, and he often 
 heard his name whispered behind his back. No- 
 body in the town doubted that a duel between him 
 and Nikolaiev was inevitable nay, they even began 
 to bet about the upshot of it. 
 
 As Romashov was passing Lykatschev's house on 
 Thursday morning he suddenly heard his name 
 shouted. 
 
 " Yuri Alexievich, Yuri Alexievich, come here." 
 
 Romashov stopped, and soon discovered Katya 
 Lykatschev standing on a bench inside the fence. 
 She was still in morning dress, which chiefly con- 
 sisted of a kimono, the triangular arrangement of 
 which in front left the delicate virginal neck wholly 
 exposed. And she was altogether so fresh and 
 rosy that for an instant Romashov even felt light 
 at heart. 
 
 Katya leant over the fence to enable Romashov to 
 reach her hand, which was still cool and moist from 
 the morning bath. She began at once to chatter and 
 lisp at her usual pace : 
 
 " Where have you been all this time? You ought 
 to be ashamed of yourself, forgetting your friends in
 
 316 THE DUEL 
 
 that way ! Zo/, zoi, zoi hush ! I have long known 
 everything, everything." She stared at Romashov 
 with great terror-stricken eyes. " Take this and 
 hang it round your throat. ;Hear and obey at once. 
 Look, if you please." 
 
 From the fold of her kimono, straight from her 
 bosom, she drew out an amulet that hung by a silk 
 cord, and shyly put it into Romashov's hand. The 
 amulet still felt balmy from its nest against the young 
 woman's warm body. 
 
 '"Will it help?" asked Romashov, in a jesting 
 tone. "What is it?" 
 
 " That's a secret, and don't you dare to laugh, you 
 ungodly creature. Zoi, zoi! " 
 
 " Hang it, if I'm not beginning to be a man of 
 note," thought Romashov, as he said good-bye to 
 Katya. " Splendid girl 1 " But he could not prevent 
 himself, though it might be for the last time, from 
 thinking of himself in the third person :> 
 
 " And over the old warrior's rugged features stole 
 a melancholy smile." 
 
 On that same evening he and Nikolaiev were 
 again summoned to the Court. The two enemies 
 stood before the green table almost side by side. 
 They did not once look at each other, but they 
 equally felt each other's high-strung emotion, and 
 were, in consequence, still more excited. Their eyes 
 were fixed, as though by magnetism, on the 
 president's face when he at last began to read the 
 verdict of the Court. 
 
 " The members of the Officers' Court of Honour 
 of the th Regiment " (here followed their 
 Christian and surnames in full), " under the 
 presidency of Lieutenant- Colon el Migunov, have 
 inquired into the matter of the fight, in the mess, 
 between Lieutenant Nikolaiev and Sub-lieutenant
 
 THE DUEL 317 
 
 Romashov, and the Court, by reason of the 
 serious nature of the case, finds a duel is necessary 
 to satisfy the wounded honour of the regiment. 
 This decree of the Court is ratified by the 
 commander of the regiment." 
 
 Lieutenant -Colonel Migunov took off his spec- 
 tacles, and replaced them in their case. 
 
 "It is incumbent on you, gentlemen," he went 
 on to say in a sepulchral voice, " to choose two 
 seconds apiece, who are to meet here at 9 p.m. to 
 agree as to the conditions of the duel. Moreover," 
 added Migunov, as he got up and put his spectacle- 
 case in his back-pocket, " moreover, I must tell 
 you that the verdict just read possesses only ja 
 conditionally binding force on you, viz. it rests in 
 your free discretion either to submit to the decree 
 of the Court or " Migunov paused and made a 
 gesture by which he meant to express his absolute 
 indifference " leave the regiment. You ought, 
 gentlemen, to keep apart. However, one thing 
 more. Not in my capacity as president of the Court, 
 but as an old comrade, I must advise you, gentlemen, 
 for the avoidance of further unpleasantness and 
 complications prior to the duel, not to visit the mess. 
 An revoir" 
 
 Nikolaiev made a sharp, military " Face-about," 
 and walked with rapid steps out of the room. 
 Romashov followed slowly after. He had no fear, 
 but he felt at once utterly lonely, abandoned, and 
 shut off from the entire world. When he reached 
 the steps he gazed for some time,, calm and aston- 
 ished, at the sky, the trees, a cow 'grazing on the 
 other side of the fen,ce, the sparrows burrowing in 
 the high road, and thought, " Sp everything lives, 
 struggles, and worries about its existence, except 
 myself. I require nothing and I have no interests.
 
 318 THE DUEL 
 
 I am doomed ; I am alone, and dead already to 
 this world." 
 
 With a feeling of sickness and disgust he went to 
 find Biek-Agamalov and Viatkin, whom he had 
 chosen for his seconds. Both granted his request ; 
 Biek-Agamalov with a gloomy, solemn countenance, 
 Viatkin with many hearty handshakes. 
 
 It was impossible for Romashov to return home. 
 
 Never had the thought of his uncomfortable abode 
 seemed so repulsive to him as at the present 
 moment. In these gloomy hours of spiritual depres- 
 sion, abandonment, and weariness of life, he needed 
 a trusty, intelligent, and sympathetic friend a man 
 with brains and heart. 
 
 Then he thought of Nasanski.
 
 XXI 
 
 NASANSKI was, as always, at home. He had only 
 just awakened from a heavy sleep following intoxi- 
 cation, and was lying on his back with only his 
 underclothing on and his hands under his head. 
 In his troubled eyes might be read sickness of life 
 and physical weariness. His face had not yet lost 
 its sleepy and lifeless expression when Romashov, 
 stooping over his friend, said in a troubled and un- 
 certain voice 
 
 " Good-day, Vasili Nilich. Perhaps I have come 
 at an inconvenient time?" 
 
 " Good-day," replied Nasanski, in a hoarse and 
 weak voice. "Any news? Sit down." 
 
 He offered Romashov his hot, clammy hand, but 
 looked at him, not as at a dear and ever-welcome 
 friend, but as it were a troublous dream-picture 
 that still lingered after his drunken sleep. 
 
 "Aren't you well?" asked Romashov shyly, as 
 he threw himself down on the corner of the bed. 
 " In that case I'll go at once, I won't disturb you." 
 
 Nasanski lifted his head a couple of inches from 
 the pillow, and by an effort he peered, with deeply 
 puckered forehead, at Romashov. 
 
 " No wait. Oh, how my head aches I Listen, 
 Georgi Alexievich. I see that something unusual 
 has happened. If I 'could only collect my thoughts 1 
 What is it ? " 
 
 Romashov looked at him with silent pity. 
 
 319
 
 320 THE DUEL 
 
 Nasanski's whole appearance had undergone a 
 terrible change since the two friends had last seen 
 each other. His eyes were sunken and surrounded 
 by black rings ; his temples had a yellow hue ; the 
 rough, wrinkled skin over his cheek-bones hung 
 limply down, and was partly concealed by the sticky, 
 wet tufts of hair that drooped. 
 
 " Nothing particular. I only wanted to see you. 
 To-morrow I am to fight a duel wi;th Nikolaiev, 
 and I was loath to go home. But nothing matters 
 now. Au revoir. You see I had nobody else 
 to talk to and my heart is heavy." 
 
 Nasanski closed his eyes, and his features made 
 a still more painful impression. It was evident that 
 he had, by a really abnormal effort of will, tried to 
 recover consciousness, and now, when he opened his 
 eyes, a spark of keen understanding was at last 
 visible in his glance. 
 
 "Well, well, I'll tell you what we'll do 
 Nasanski turned on his side by an effort and 
 raised himself on his elbow. " But first give me 
 
 out of the cupboard, you know No, let the apples 
 
 be there should be a few peppermint drops thanks, 
 
 my friend. I'll tell you what we'll do 
 
 Faugh, how disgusting ! Take me out into the fresh 
 air. Here it's intolerable. Always the same hideous 
 hallucinations. Come with me ; we'll get a boat, 
 then we can chat. Will you? " 
 
 With a stern face, and an expression of utter 
 loathing on his countenance, he drained glass after 
 glass. Romashov observed Nasanski's ashy com- 
 plexion gradually assume a deeper hue, and his 
 beautiful blue eyes regain life and brilliancy. 
 
 When they reached the street they took a fly and 
 drove to the river flowing past the very outskirts of 
 the town, which there swells out to a dam, on one
 
 THE DUEL 321 
 
 side of which stood a mill driven by turbines, an 
 enormous red building belonging to a Jew. On 
 tihe other shore stood a few bathing-houses, and 
 there, too, boats might be hired. Romashov sat by 
 the oars, and Nasanski assumed a half-recumbent 
 position in the stern. 
 
 The river was very broad here, the stream weak, 
 the banks low and overgrown with long, juicy grass 
 that hung down over the water, and out of it rose 
 tall green reeds and masses of big, white water-lilies. 
 
 Romashov related the particulars of his fight with 
 Nikolaiev. Nasanski listened abstractedly and gazed 
 down at the river, which in lazy, sluggish eddies 
 flowed away like molten glass in the wake of the 
 boat. 
 
 * 4 Tell me candidly, Romashov, have you any 
 fear?" asked Nasanski, in a low voice. 
 
 "Of the duel? No, I'm not afraid of that," 
 replied Romashov irritably, but he became abruptly 
 silent, whilst, in the flash of a second, he saw himself 
 standing face to face with Nikolaiev, and with 
 hypnotized eyes gazing at the black, threatening 
 muzzle of his revolver. " No, no," added Romas- 
 hov hastily, " I will not lie and boast that I'm not 
 afraid. On the contrary, I think it terrible ; but I 
 also know that I shall not behave like a coward, 
 and that I shall never apologize." 
 
 Nasanski dipped the tips of his fing'ers in the 
 softly rippling water, warm with the evening glow, 
 and said slowly, in a weak voice often interrupted 
 by coughing : 
 
 " Ah, my friend, my dear Romashov, why will you 
 do this thing? Only think if what you say is true, 
 and you are not a coward. Why not then show your 
 moral courage in a still higher degree by refusing to 
 fight this duel ? "
 
 322 THE DUEL 
 
 " He has insulted me, struck me-ron the face," 
 replied Romashov, with, newly kindled, burning in- 
 dignation. 
 
 " Well, admitting that," resumed Nasanski gently, 
 with his tender, sorrowful eyes fixed on Romas- 
 hov, "what does that signify? Time heals all 
 wounds ; everything in the world is buried and 
 disappears, even the recollection of this scandal. 
 You yourself will in time forget both your hatred and 
 your sufferings ; but you'll never forget a man you 
 have killed. He will stand ever at your side, at the 
 head of your bed, at your dinner-table, when you 
 are alone, and when you are amidst the bustle of the 
 world. Empty-heads, idiots, pretentious imitators 
 and parrots will, of course, at all times solemnly 
 assure you that a murder in the course of a duel is 
 no murder. What madmen ! No, a murder is, 
 and always will be, a murder. And the most 
 horrible thing about it is not in death and suffering, 
 in pools of blood or in corpses, but inasmuch 
 as it deprives a human being of the joys of life. 
 Oh, how priceless is life I " exclaimed Nasanski 
 suddenly, in a high voice and with tears in his eyes. 
 " Who do you suppose believes in the reality of an 
 existence after this one ? Not you, or I, or any other 
 man of sound reason. Therefore death is feared by 
 all . Only half-demented, ecstatic barbarians or ' the 
 foolish in the Lord ' allow themselves to be deluded 
 into the notion that they will be greeted on the other 
 side of the grave, in the garden of Paradise, by the 
 beatific hymns of celestial eunuchs. Moreover, we 
 have those who, silently despising such old wives' 
 fables and puerilities, cross the threshold of death. 
 Others again picture the empire of the grave as a 
 cold, dark, bare room. No, my friend, there is 
 no such future state. In death there is neither
 
 THE DUEL 323 
 
 cold, nor darkness, nor space, nor even fear nothing 
 but absolute annihilation." 
 
 Romashov shipped his oars, and it was only by 
 observing the green shore gently stealing by that 
 one could tell that the boat was moving onwards. 
 
 " Yes annihilation," Romashov repeated slowly, 
 in a dreamy tone. 
 
 " But why cudgel your brains over this ? Gaze 
 instead at the living landscape around you. How 
 exquisite is life 1 " shouted Nasanski, with a power- 
 ful and eloquent gesture. " Oh, thou beauty of the 
 Godhead thou infinite beauty ! Look at this blue 
 sky, this calm and silent water, and you will tremble 
 with joy and rapture. Look at yon water-mill far 
 in the distance, softly moving its sails. Look at 
 the fresh verdure of the bank and the mischievous 
 play of the sunbeams on the water. How wonder- 
 fully lovely and peaceful is all this ! " Nasanski 
 suddenly buried his face in his hands and burst out 
 weeping-; but he recovered his self-possession im- 
 mediately, and, without any shame for his tears, he 
 went on to say, while looking at Romashov with 
 moist, glistening eyes : 
 
 " No, even if I were to fall under the railway, 
 train, and were left lying on the line with broken 
 and bleeding limbs, and any one were to ask me if 
 life were beautiful, I should none the less, and even 
 by summoning my last remains of strength, answer 
 enthusiastically, ' Ah, yes, even now life is glorious.' 
 How much joy does not sight alone give us, and so, 
 too, music, the scent of flowers, and woman's love? 
 And then the human understanding : thought which 
 alone is our life's golden sun the eternal source 
 of noble pleasure and imperishable bliss. Yurochka 
 pardon me calling you so, my friend " Nasanski 
 held out his trembling hand to Romashov as though
 
 324 THE DUEL 
 
 entreating forgiveness " suppose you were shut ;up 
 in prison, and you were doomed all your life to stare 
 at crumbling bricks of the wall of your cell no, 
 let us suppose that in your prison dungeon there 
 never penetrated a ray of light or a sound from the 
 outer world. Well, what more? What would that 
 be in comparison with all the mysterious terrors of 
 death? Yet if thought, memory, imagination, the 
 spirit's faculty of creation remained, you would not 
 only be able to live, but even find moments of 
 enthusiasm and the joy of life." 
 
 " Yes, life is priceless," exclaimed Romashov, 
 interrupting him. 
 
 " It's magnificent," Nasanski went on to say hotly, 
 " yet people wish two rational creatures to kill each 
 other for a woman's sake, or to re-establish their 
 so-called honour ! But who is it then he kills ? 
 this miserable living clod of earth that arrogates to 
 himself the proud name of man? Is it himself or 
 his neighbour ? No, he kills the gracious warmth 
 and lifegiving sun, the bright sky, and all nature 
 with its infinite beauty and charm. He kills that 
 which never, never, never will return. Oh, what 
 madmen ! " 
 
 Nasanski ceased, shook his head sorrowfully, and 
 collapsed. The boat glided into the reeds. Romas- 
 hov again took the oars. High, hard, green stalks 
 bowed slowly and gravely, gently scraping the boat's 
 gunwale. Amid the tall rushes there was shade 
 and coolness. 
 
 "What shall I do?" asked Romashov, scowling 
 and angry. "Shall I enter the reserves? Where 
 shall I go?" 
 
 Nasanski looked at him with a gentle smile. 
 
 " Listen, Romashov, and look me straight in the 
 face that's right. No, don't turn away, look at me.
 
 THE DUEL 325 
 
 and answer on your honour and conscience. Do you 
 really think that you are now serving any good, 
 useful, and reasonable purposes? I know you much 
 better than all the rest yes, I know your inmost 
 soul, and I know you do not think so." 
 
 " No," replied Romashov, in a firm voice, " you 
 are right. But what will become of me? " 
 
 " Well, be calm. Only look at our officers. Oh, 
 I'm not talking now of the fops of the Emperor's 
 lifeguards who dance at the Court balls, talk French, 
 and are kept by their parents or by their more or 
 less lawful wives. No, I'm thinking of ourselves 
 poor officers in the line who, nevertheless, con- 
 stitute the very ' pick ' of the irresistible and glorious 
 Russian Army. What are we? Well, mere fag- 
 ends le beau reste, despised pariahs.; at best the 
 sons of poor, poverty-stricken infantry Captains, 
 ruined in body and soul, but for, by far, the most 
 part consisting of collegians, seminarists, etc., who 
 have failed. Look, for instance, at our regiment. 
 What are they who remain for any time in the 
 service? Poor devils burdened with large families, 
 veritable beggars ready for every villainy and cruelty 
 ah, even for murder and are not even ashamed 
 of abstracting the poor soldier's scanty pay so that, 
 at any rate, cabbage soup may not be lacking on 
 their table at home. Such an individual is com- 
 manded to shoot . Whom ? And for what ? It is 
 all the same to him. He only knows that at home 
 there are hungry mouths, dirty, scrofulous, rickety 
 children, and with dull countenance he splutters, 
 like another woodpecker, his eternal, unvarying 
 answer, ' My oath.' And if there's a spark of ability 
 or talent in any one, it is extinguished in schnapps. 
 Seventy-five per cent, of our officers are diseased 
 through vice. If any one in the regiment happens
 
 326 THE DUEL 
 
 to scrape through his entrance examination for the 
 Staff College which, by the way, hardly happens 
 with us once in five years he is pursued by hatred. 
 The most servile and fawning individuals, or those 
 who have managed to obtain a little patronage, as 
 a rule, get into the police or gendarmes. Should 
 they have in their veins a few drops of noble blood, 
 they may perhaps get a circuit-judgeship in the 
 country. Let us suppose that a man of education, 
 fine feeling, and heart is forced to remain in the 
 regiment. What do you suppose is his fate? To 
 him the service is an intolerable yoke and a perpetual 
 source of humiliation, suffering, and self -contempt. 
 Every one tries to procure an occupation of another 
 sort which soon entirely engrosses him. .One is 
 seized with a 'mania for collecting ; another watches 
 impatiently for the evening so that he may, with 
 great trouble and waste of time, embroider small 
 crosses and other gewgaws for an absolutely un- 
 necessary ornamental mat. A third fills his life by 
 the help of a little metal saw, and produces at last 
 an exquisite, perforated frame for his own portrait. 
 And the thought of all this absurd and worthless 
 work secretly occupies their minds during the in- 
 sufferable hours of drill. Cards, drinking-bouts, 
 disgusting swagger about the favours women have 
 bestowed on them all this I might be able to pass 
 over in silence. The most repulsive thing, how- 
 ever, is the cruel eagerness, conspicuous in so many 
 officers, to gain a name as martinets and brutes to 
 their men, as, for instance, Osadchi and Company, 
 who with impunity knock out the teeth and eyes of 
 their young recruits. Perhaps you are not aware 
 that Artschakovski so maltreated his servant in my 
 presence that it was all I could do to help the victim 
 away alive. Blood splashed over the floor and walls.
 
 THE DUEL 327 
 
 Well, how do you think the affair ended ? You shall 
 hear. The soldier complained to the Captain of 
 his company ; the latter sent him with a sealed order 
 to the pay-sergeant, who, in strict obedience to his 
 superior's orders, further belaboured with his fists 
 the soldier's swollen and bleeding face for the 
 space of half an hour. The same soldier com- 
 plained twice at the General Inspection, but without 
 redress." 
 
 Nasanski stopped and began nervously rubbing 
 his temples with the palm of his hand. 
 
 " Wait," he went on to say. '-' Ah, how one's 
 thoughts fly ! Isn't it an unpleasant sensation to 
 know that our thoughts lead us, and not we our 
 thoughts ? Well, to resume what we were talking 
 about. Among our senior remaining officers we 
 have also other types, for instance, Captain Plavski. 
 On his petroleum stove he cooks his own beastly 
 food, goes about in rags, and, out of his monthly 
 forty-eight roubles twelve times a year, he puts 
 twenty-five in the bank, where he has a sum of 2,000 
 roubles on deposit, which he lends to his brother 
 officers at an outrageously usurious rate of interest. 
 And you think, perhaps, that this is innate or in- 
 herited greed ? Certainly not ; it is only a means of 
 filling up the soul-destroying hours of garrison 
 service. Then we have Captain Stelikovskl, a strong, 
 able, talented man. Of what does his life consist? 
 Oh, in seducing young, inexperienced peasant girls. 
 Finally, our famous oddity, Lieutenant-Colonel 
 ' Brehm.' A good-natured, kindly ass a thoroughly 
 good fellow, who has but one interest in life the 
 care of his animals. What to him signify the 
 service, the colours, the parades, censures of his 
 superiors, or the honour of the warrior? Less than 
 nothing."
 
 328 THE DUEL 
 
 ' Brehm ' is a fine fellow. I like him," in- 
 terrupted Romashov. 
 
 " He certainly is that, my friend," Nasanski 
 admitted in a weary tone, "and yet," he went on to 
 say with a lowering countenance, " if you knew 
 what I once saw at the manoeuvres. After a night 
 march we were directly afterwards to advance to 
 attack. Both officers and men were utterly done up. 
 ' Brehm ' was in command, and ordered the buglers 
 to sound the charge, but the latter, goodness knows 
 why, signalled the reserve to advance. ' Brehm ' 
 repeated his order once, twice, thrice, but in vain ; 
 the result was the same. Then our excellent, kind- 
 hearted ' Brehm ' gallops up to the unsuspecting 
 bugler, and bangs his fist, with all his force, against 
 the bell of the trumpet. I saw with my own eyes 
 the trumpeter spitting out blood and broken teeth." 
 
 " Oh, my God ! " groaned Romashov in disgust. 
 
 11 Yes, they are all alike, even the best and most 
 tender-hearted among them. At home they are 
 splendid fathers of families and excellent husbands ; 
 but as soon as they approach the barracks they 
 become low-minded, cowardly, and idiotic bar- 
 barians. You ask me why this is, and I answer : 
 Because nobody can find a grain of sense in what is 
 called military service. You know how all children 
 like to play at war. Well, the human race has had 
 its childhood a time of incessant and bloody war ; 
 but war was not then one of the scourges of man- 
 kind, but a continued, savage, exultant national feast 
 to which daring bands of youths marched forth, 
 meeting victory or death with joy and pleasure. 
 The bravest, strongest, and most cunning was chosen 
 as leader, and so long as success attended his banner, 
 he was almost accorded divine worship, until at 
 last he was killed by his subjects, in order to make
 
 THE DUEL 329 
 
 room for a luckier and more powerful rival. Man- 
 kind, however, grew in age and wisdom ; people 
 got weary of the former rowdy, bloody games, and 
 became more serious, thoughtful, and cautious. The 
 old Vikings of song and saga were designated and 
 treated as pirates. The soldier no longer regarded 
 war as a bloody but enjoyable occupation, and he 
 had often to be dragged to the enemy with a noose 
 round his neck. The former terrifying, ruthless, 
 adored atamens have been changed into cowardly, 
 cautious chinovniks, 1 who get along painfully enough 
 on never adequate pay. Their courage is inspired 
 by drink. Military discipline still exists, but it is 
 based on threats and dread, and undermined by a 
 dull, mutual hatred. To make a long story short, 
 the whilom fine, proud 1 ' pheasants ' are of faded hue 
 and look ruffled. Only one more parallel resembling 
 the foregoing can I adduce from universal history, 
 to wit, monasticism. The legend of its origin is 
 touching and beautiful, its mission was peaceful, 
 benevolent, and civilizing, and its existence most 
 certainly an historic necessity. But centuries pass 
 away, and what do we see now? Hundreds of 
 thousands of impostors, idle, licentious, land impudent, 
 who are hated and despised even by those who 
 think they need their religious aid. And all this 
 abomination is carefully hidden under a close veil of 
 tinsel and finery, and foolish, empty ceremonies, in 
 all ages the charlatan's conditio sine qua non. Is 
 not this comparison of mine between the monastic 
 orders and the military caste logical? Here the 
 cassock and the censer.; there the gold-laced 
 uniform and the clank of arms. Here bigotry, 
 hypocritical humility, sighs, and sugary, sancti- 
 monious, unmeaning phrases:; there the same 
 
 ' Chinavnik, Russian word for official.
 
 330 THE DUEL 
 
 odious affectations, although of another kind 
 swaggering manners, bold, and scornful looks 
 ' God help the man who dares to insult me ! ' 
 padded shoulders, cock-a-hoop defiance. Both the 
 former and the latter class live like parasites on 
 society, and are profoundly conscious of that fact, 
 but fear especially for their bellies' sake to publish 
 it. And both remind one of certain little blood- 
 sucking animals which eat their way most obstin- 
 ately into the surface of a foreign body in propor- 
 tion as it is decomposed." 
 
 Nasanski stopped and spat with withering con- 
 tempt. 
 
 " Go on, go on/' exclaimed Romashov eagerly. 
 
 " But other times are coming, indeed have come. 
 Yes, tremendous surprises and changes are about 
 to take place. You remember my saying on one 
 occasion that for a thousand years there has existed 
 a genius of humanity that seldom reveals itself, but 
 whose laws are as inexorable as they are ruthless ; 
 but the wiser men become, so much more deeply 
 do they penetrate the spirit of those laws. And 
 I am convinced that, sooner or later, everything in 
 this world must be brought into equilibrium in 
 accordance with these immutable laws. Justice will 
 then be dispensed. The longer and more cruel 
 the slavery has been, so much more terrible will 
 be the day of reckoning for tyrants. The greater 
 the violence, injustice, and brutality, so much more 
 bloody will be the retribution. Oh, I am firmly 
 convinced that the day will dawn when we 
 ' superior officers,' we ' almighty swells,' darlings 
 of the women, drones and brainless swaggerers, will 
 have our ears boxed with impunity in streets and 
 lanes, in vestibules and corridors, when women will 
 turn their backs on us in contempt, and when our
 
 THE DUEL 331 
 
 own affectionate soldiers will cease to obey us. And 
 all this will happen, not because we have brutally 
 ill-treated men deprived of every possibility of self- 
 defence ; not because we have, for the ' honour ' 
 of the uniform, insulted women ; not because we 
 have committed, when in a state of intoxication, 
 scandalous acts in public-houses and public places ; 
 and not even because we, the privileged lick -spittles 
 of the State, have, in innumerable battlefields and 
 in pretty nearly every country, covered our standards 
 with shame, and been driven by our own soldiers 
 out of the maize -fields in which we had taken shelter. 
 Well, of course, we shall also be punished for that. 
 No, our most monstrous and unpardonable sin con- 
 sists in our being blind and deaf to everything. 
 For long, long period's past and, naturally, far away 
 from our polluted garrisons people have discerned 
 the dawn of a new life resplendent with light and 
 freedom. Far-seeing, high-minded, and noble spirits, 
 free from prejudices and human fear, have arisen 
 to sow among the nations burning words of libera- 
 tion and enlightenment. These heroes remind one 
 of the last scene in a melodrama, when the dark 
 castles and prison towers of tyranny fall down and 
 are buried, in order, as it were, by magic, to be 
 succeeded by freedom's dazzling light and hailed 
 by exultant throngs. We alone crass idiots, 
 irredeemable victims of pride and blindness still 
 stick up our tail-feathers, like angry turkey-cocks, 
 and yell in savage wrath, ' What ? Where ? Silence I 
 Obey ! Shoot ! ' etc., etc. And it's just this turkey- 
 cock's contempt for the fight for freedom by 
 awakening humanity that shall never, never be 
 forgiven us." 
 
 The boat glided gently over the calm, open, 
 mirroring surface of the river, which was garlanded
 
 332 THE DUEL 
 
 round by the tall, dark green, motionless reeds. 
 The little vessel was, as it were, hidden from the 
 whole world. Over it hovered, now and then utter- 
 ing a scream, the white gulls, occasionally so closely 
 that, as they almost brushed Romashov with the 
 tips of their wings, they made him feel the breeze 
 arising from their strong, swift flights. Nasanski 
 lay on his back in the stern of the boat and kept 
 staring, for a long time, at the bright sky, where 
 a few golden clouds sailing gently by had already 
 begun to change to rose colour. 
 
 Romashov said in a shy tone : 
 
 " Are you tired? Oh, keep on talking." 
 
 It seemed as if Nasanski continued to think and 
 dream aloud when he once more picked up the 
 threads of his monologue. 
 
 " Yes, a new, glorious, and wonderful time is at 
 hand. I venture to say this, for I myself have 
 lived a good deal in the world, read, seen, experi- 
 enced, and suffered much. When I was a schoolboy, 
 the old crows and jackdaws croaked into our ears : 
 ' Love your neighbour as yourself, and know that 
 gentleness, obedience, and the fear of God are man's 
 fairest adornments.' Then came certain strong, 
 honest, fanatical men who said : ' Come and join 
 us, and we'll throw ourselves into the abyss so that 
 the coming race shall live in light and freedom.' 
 But I never understood a word of this. Who do 
 you suppose is going to show me, in a convincing 
 way, in what manner I am linked to this ' neigh- 
 bour ' of mine damn him ! who, you know, may 
 be a miserable slave, a Hottentot, a leper, or an 
 idiot? Of all the holy legends there is none which 
 I hate and despise with my whole soul so much as 
 that of John the Almoner. 1 The leper says : ' I 
 
 * Ivan Milostivni, one of the innumerable saints of the Greek 
 Church.
 
 THE DUEL 333 
 
 am shivering with cold ; lie beside me in niy bed 
 and warm my body with thy limbs. Lay thy lips 
 close to my fetid mouth and breathe on me ! ' Oh, 
 how disgusting* ! How I hate this victim of leprosy, 
 and, for the matter of that, also all other similar 
 choice examples of my ' neighbour.' Can any 
 reasonable being tell me why I should crush my 
 head so that the generation in the year 3200 may 
 attain a higher standard of happiness ? Be quiet I 
 I, too, once upon a time, sympathized with the 
 silly, babyish cackle about ' the world-soul,' ' man's 
 sacred duty/ etc. But even if these high-falutin 
 phrases did find a place then in my brain, they never 
 forced their way into my heart. Do you follow me, 
 Romashov? " 
 
 Romashov looked at Nasanski with a mixture of 
 gratitude and shame. 
 
 " I understand you fully. When I come to ' send 
 in my checks ' and die, then the universe dies with 
 me. That's what you meant, eh? " 
 
 " Exactly, but listen further. Love of humanity 
 is burnt out and has vanished from the heart of 
 man. In its stead shall come a new creed, a new 
 view of life that shall last to the world's end ; and 
 this view of life consists in the individual's love for 
 himself, for his own powerful intelligence and the 
 infinite riches of his 'feelings and perceptions . Think, 
 Romashov, just this way and in no other. Who is 
 nearer and dearer to me than myself ? No one . You, 
 and none other, are the Tsar and autocrat of your own 
 soul, its pride and ornament. You are the god of all 
 that lives. To you alone belongs all that you see, 
 hear, and feel. Take what you want and do what you 
 please. Fear nobody and nothing, for there is no 
 one in the whole universe above you or can even 
 be your rival. Ah, a time will come when the fixed
 
 334 THE DUEL 
 
 belief in one's own Ego will cast its blessed beams 
 over mankind as 'did once the fiery tongues of 
 the Holy Ghost 'over the Apostles' heads. Then 
 there will be no longer slaves and masters ; no 
 maimed or cripples ; no malice, no vices, no pity, 
 no hate. Men will be gods. How shall I dare 
 to deceive, insult, or ill-treat another man, in ,whom 
 I see and 'feel my fellow, who, like myself, is a 
 god? Then, and then only, shall life be rich and 
 beautiful. Over the whole "habitable portion of our 
 earth shall tall, airy, lovely buildings be raised. 
 Nothing vulgar, common, low, and impure shall any 
 longer torture the eye. Our daily life shall 
 become a pleasurable toil, an enfranchised science, 
 a wonderful music, an everlasting merry-making. 
 Love, free and sovereign, shall become the world's 
 religion. No longer shall it be forced in shaime 
 to hide its countenance ; no longer shall it be 
 coupled with sin, disgrace, and darkness. And our 
 own bodies shall glow with health, strength, an'd 
 beauty, and go clad in bright, shimmering robes. 
 Just as certainly as I believe in an eternal sky 
 above me," shouted Nasanski, " so do I just as 
 firmly believe in this paradisaical life to come." 
 
 Romashov, agitated and no longer master of him- 
 self, whispered with white lips : 
 
 " Nasanski, these are dreams, fancies." 
 
 Nasanski's smile was silent and compassionate. 
 
 " Yes," he at last uttered with a laugh still linger- 
 ing in his voice, " you may perhaps be right. A 
 professor of Dogmatic Theology or Classical Philo- 
 logy would, with arms and legs extended and head 
 bent on one side in profound thought, say something 
 like this : ' This is merely an outburst of the most 
 unbridled Individualism.' But, my dear fellow, 
 luckily the thing does not depend on more or less
 
 THE DUEL 335 
 
 categorical phrases and comminations fulminated in 
 a loud voice, but on the fact that there is nothing] 
 in the world 'more real, practical and irrefutable 
 than these so-called '' fancies/ which are certainly 
 only the property 'of some few people. These fancies 
 will some day more strongly and completely weld 
 together the whole of mankind to a complete homo- 
 geneous body. But let us forget now that we are 
 warriors. We are merely defenceless starar. Sup- 
 pose we go up the street ; there we see right before 
 us a wonderful, merry-looking, two-headed monster l 
 that attacks all who come within its reach, no matter 
 who they be. It has not yet touched me, but the 
 mere thought that this brute might ill-treat me, 
 or insult a woman I loved, or deprive me of my 
 liberty is enough to make me mad. I cannot 
 overpower this creature by myself, but beside me 
 walks another man rilled with the same thirst for 
 vengeance as I, and I say to him : ' Come, shall 
 we go and kill the monster, so that he may not 
 be able to dig his claws into any one ! ' You 
 understand that all I have just been telling you is 
 only a drastic simile, a hyperbole ; but the truth 
 is that I see, in this two-headed monster that 
 which holds my soul captive, limits my individual 
 freedom, and robs me of my manhood. And when 
 that day dawns, 'then no more lamb -like love for 
 one's neighbour, but the divine love to one's pwn 
 Ego will be preached among men. Then, too, the 
 double-headed monster's reign will be over." 
 
 Nasanski stopped. This violent outburst had evi- 
 dently been too much for his nerves. After a few 
 minutes, he went 'on in a hollow voice : 
 
 '" My dear Georgi Alexievich, there rushes past 
 us incessantly a brawling stream of divinely in- 
 
 1 The allusion is to the double eagle in the arms of Russia.
 
 336 THE DUEL 
 
 spired, lofty, flaming thoughts and new and im- 
 perishable ideas which are to crush and bury for 
 ever the bulwarks and golden idols of tyranny and 
 darkness. We, however, keep on stamping in our 
 old stalls and neighing : ' Ah, you poor jades, you 
 ought to have a taste of the whip 1 ' And once 
 more I say : This will never be forgiven us." 
 
 Nasanski got up, wrapped his cloak round him 
 with a slight shiver, and remarked in a weary 
 voice : 
 
 "I'm cold let's go home." 
 
 Romashov rowed out of the rushes. The sun 
 was setting behind the roofs of the distant town, 
 the dark outlines of which were sharply defined 
 against the red evening sky. Here and there the 
 sunrays were reflected by a gleaming window-pane. 
 The greater part of the river's surface was as even 
 as a mirror, and faded away in bright, sportive 
 colours ; but behind the boat the water was already 
 dark, opaque, and curled by little light waves. 
 
 Romashov suddenly exclaimed, as if he were 
 answering his own thoughts : 
 
 " You are right. I'll enter the reserves. I do 
 not yet know how I shall do it, but I had 
 thought of it before." 
 
 Nasanski shivered with the cold and wrapped his 
 cloak more closely round him. 
 
 " Come, come," replied he in a melancholy and 
 tender tone. " There's a certain inward light in 
 you, Georgi Alexievich ; I don't know what to call 
 it properly ; but in this bear-pit it will soon go 
 out. Yes, they would spit at it and put it out. 
 Then get away from here 1 Don't be afraid to 
 struggle for your existence. Don't fear life the 
 warm, wonderful life that's so rich in changes. Let's 
 suppose you cannot hold yourself up ; that you sink
 
 THE DUEL 337 
 
 deep deep ; that you become a victim to crime 
 and poverty. .What then? I tell you that the 
 life of a beggar or vagrant is tenfold richer than 
 Captain Sliva's and those of his kidney. You wander 
 round the world here and there, from village to 
 village, from town to town. You make acquaint- 
 ance with quaint, careless, homeless, humorous 
 specimens of humanity. You see and hear, suffer 
 and enjoy ; you sleep on the dewy grass ; you 
 shiver with cold in the frosty hours of the morning. 
 But you are as free as a bird ; you're afraid of 
 no one, and you worship life with all your soul. 
 Oh, how little men understand after all 1 What 
 does it matter whether you eat vobla ' or saddle 
 of buck venison with truffles ; if you drink vodka 
 or champagne ; whether you die in a police-cell 
 or under a canopy? All this is the veriest trifle. 
 I often stand and watch funeral processions. There 
 lies, overshadowed by enormous plumes, in its 
 silver -mounted coffin, a rotting ape accompanied to 
 the grave by a number of other apes, bedizened, 
 behind and before, with orders, stars, keys, and 
 other worthless finery. And afterwards all those 
 visits and announcements I No, my friend, in all 
 the world there is only one thing consistent and 
 worth possessing, viz, an emancipated spirit with 
 imaginative, creative force, and a cheerful tempera- 
 ment. One can have truffles or do without them. 
 All that sort of thing is a matter of luck ; it does 
 not signify anything. A common guard, provided 
 he is not an absolute beast, might in six months 
 be trained to act as Tsar, and play his part admir- 
 ably ; but a well -fattened, sluggish, and stupid ape, 
 that throws himself into his carriage with his big 
 
 1 Vobla is a kind of fish of the size of Prussian carp, and is caught in 
 the Volga. 
 
 22
 
 338 THE DUEL 
 
 belly in the air, will never su'cceed in grasping 
 what liberty is, 'will never feel the bliss of inspiration, 
 or shed sweet tears of enthusiasm'. 
 
 " Travel, Romashov. Go away from here. I 
 advise you to do so, for I myself have tasted 
 freedom, and if I crept into my dirty cage again, 
 whose fault was it? But enough of this. Dive 
 boldly into life. It will not deceive you. Life 
 resembles a huge building with thousands of rooms 
 in which you will find light, joy, singing, wonderful 
 pictures, handsome and talented men and women, 
 games and frolic, dancing, love, and all that is 
 great and mighty in art. Of this castle you have 
 hitherto seen only a dark, narrow, cold, and raw 
 cupboard, full of scourings and spiders' webs, and 
 yet you hesitate to leave it." 
 
 Romashov made fast the boat and helped 
 Nasanski to land. It was already dusk when they 
 reached Nasanski 's abode. Romashov helped him 
 to bed and spread the cloak and counterpane over 
 him. 
 
 Nasanski trembled so much from his chill that his 
 teeth chattered. He rolled himself up like a ball, 
 bored his head right into his pillow, and whimpered 
 helplessly as a child. 
 
 " Oh, how frightened I am of my room 1 What 
 dreams I What dreams ! " 
 
 " Perhaps you would like me to stay with you? " 
 said Romashov. 
 
 " No, no ; that's not necessary. But get me, 
 please, some bromide and a little vodka. I have 
 no money." 
 
 Romashov sat by him till eleven. Nasanski 's 
 fits of ague gradually subsided. Suddenly he opened 
 his great eyes gleaming with fever, and uttered with 
 some difficulty, but in a determined, abrupt tone :
 
 THE DUEL 339 
 
 " Go, now good-bye." 
 
 " Good-bye," replied Romashov sadly. He 
 wanted to say, " Good-bye, my teacher," but was 
 ashamed of the phrase, and he merely added with 
 an attempt at joking : 
 
 " Why did you merely say ' good-bye ' ? Why 
 not say do sviddnia? " * 
 
 Nasanski burst into a weird, senseless laugh. 
 
 "Why not do svtshvezia? " 2 he screamed in a 
 wild, mad voice. 
 
 Romashov felt that his body was shaken by violent 
 shudders . 
 
 1 AH revolt. 
 
 * Untranslatable pun on the two last syllables of svidiiuia ; Dania 
 means Denmark, Schvezia, Sweden
 
 XXII 
 
 ON approaching his abode, Romashov noticed, to 
 his astonishment, that a faint gleam of light poured 
 from the dark window of his room. " What can that 
 be? " he thought, not without a certain uneasiness, 
 whilst he involuntarily quickened his steps. 
 " Perhaps it is my seconds waiting to communicate 
 to me the conditions of the duel?" In the hall 
 he ran into Haindn, but he did not recognize him 
 immediately in the dark, and being startled, cried 
 angrily : 
 
 " What the devil ! Oh, it's you, Hainan 
 
 and who's in there? " 
 
 In spite of the darkness, Romashov realized that 
 Hainan was doing his usual dance. 
 
 " It's a lady, your Honour. She's sitting in 
 there." 
 
 Romashov opened the door. The lamp, the 
 kerosene of which had long come to an end, was still 
 flickering feebly and was just ready to go out. On 
 the bed was seated a female figure, the outlines of 
 which could scarcely be distinguished in the half- 
 dlark room. 
 
 " Shurochka ! " Romashov, who for a second was 
 unable to breathe, slowly approached the bed on 
 tip-toe "Shurochka, you here?" 
 
 " S-sh ; sit down," she replied in a rapid 
 whisper. " Put out the lamp." 
 
 Rrmashov blew sharply into the chimney of the 
 
 340
 
 THE DUEL 34i 
 
 lamp. The little flickering, blue flame went out, 
 and the room was at once dark and silent, but, in 
 the next moment, the alarum on the table went off 
 loudly. Romashov sat down by Alexandra Petrovna, 
 but could not distinguish her features. A curious 
 feeling of pain, nervousness, and faintness of heart 
 took possession of him. He was unable to speak. 
 
 " Who is on the other side of that wall? " asked 
 Shurochka. "Can we be overheard?" 
 
 44 No, there's no one there, only old furniture. My 
 landlord is a joiner. One can speak out loud." 
 
 But both spoke, all the same, in a low voice, and 
 those shyly uttered words acquired, in the darkness, 
 something in addition awful, disquieting, treacher- 
 ously stealthy. Romashov sat so close to Shurochka 
 that he almost touched her dress. There was a 
 buzzing in his ears, and the blood throbbed in his 
 veins with dull, heavy beats. 
 
 " Why, oh, why have you done this ? " she asked 
 quietly, but in a passionately reproachful tone. 
 Shurochka laid her hand on his knee. Romashov 
 felt through the cloth this light touch of her 
 feverishly burning finger-tips. He drew a deep 
 breath, his eyes closed, and big black ovals, the sides 
 of which sparkled with a dazzling, bluish gleam, 
 took shape and ran into each other before his eyes, 
 reminding him of the legend of the wonderful lakes. 
 41 Did you forget that I told you to keep your 
 self-control when you met him? No, no I don't 
 reproach you. You did not do it on purpose, I 
 know that ; but in that moment, when the wild beast 
 within you was aroused, you had not even one 
 thought of me. There was nothing to stay your 
 arm. You never loved me." 
 
 44 1 love you," said Romashov softly, as with a 
 shy movement he put his trembling fingers on her
 
 342 THE DUEL 
 
 hand. Shurochka withdrew her hand, though not 
 hastily, but at once and slowly, as though she were 
 afraid of hurting him. 
 
 " I know that neither you nor he mixed my 
 name up with this scandal ; but I can tell you that 
 all this chivalry has been wasted. There's not a 
 house in the town where they are not gossiping 
 about it." 
 
 44 Forgive me ; I could not control myself. I was 
 blinded, beside myself with jealousy," stammered 
 Romashov. 
 
 Shurochka laughed for a while to herself. At 
 last she answered him : 
 
 " You talk about ' jealousy.' Did you really 
 think that my husband, after his fight with ,you, 
 was high-minded enough to deny himself the 
 pleasure of telling me where you had come from 
 when you returned to the mess ? He also told me 
 one or two things about Nasanski." 
 
 44 Forgive me," repeated Romashov. " It's true 
 I was there but I di,d nothing to blush for in 
 your presence. Pardon me." 
 
 Shurochka suddenly raised her voice. Her 
 voice acquired an energetic, almost severe accent, 
 when she answered him. 
 
 14 Listen, Georgi Alexievich, the minutes are 
 precious. I waited here nearly half an hour for 
 you. Let us, therefore, talk briefly and to the 
 point. You know what Volodya is to me I don't 
 love him, but, for his sake, I killed a part of my 
 soul. I cherish greater ambition than he does. 
 Twice he has failed to pass for the Staff College. 
 This caused me far greater sorrow and disappoint- 
 ment than it did him. All this idea pf trying 
 to get on the Staff is mine, only mine. I have 
 literally dragged him, whipped him on, crammed
 
 THE DUEL 343 
 
 lessons into him, gone over them with him, filed 
 and sharpened him, screwed up his pride and ambi- 
 tion, and cheered him in hours of apathy (and 
 depression. I live only for this, and I cannot even 
 bear the thought of these hopes of mine being 
 blighted. Whatever the cost, Volodya must pass 
 his examination." 
 
 Romashov sat with his head in his hands. 
 Suddenly he felt Shurochka softly and caressingly 
 drawing her fingers through his hair. Sorrowful 
 and bewildered, he said to her : 
 
 "What can I do?" 
 
 She laid her arm round his neck and drew his 
 head to her bosom. She was not wearing a corset, 
 and Romashov felt her soft, elastic bosom pressed 
 against his cheek, and inhaled the delicious, aromatic 
 perfume that came from her young, absolutely 
 healthy body. When she spoke he felt in his hair 
 her irregular, nervous breathing. 
 
 "You remember, that evening at the picnic? I 
 told you then the whole truth : I did not love 
 him ; but think, now, only think, three years 
 three whole long years of the most arduous, re- 
 pulsive work of fancies, dreams, hopes. You know 
 how I Jiate and despise this wretched little provincial 
 hole, the odious set of officers. I always wanted to 
 be dressed expensively and elegantly. I love power, 
 flattery slaves. And then comes this regimental 
 scandal, this stupid fight between two drunken, 
 irresponsible men accidentally brought together. 
 Then all is over all my dreams and hopes turned 
 to ashes. Isn't this dreadful? I have never been a 
 mother ; but I thi,nk I can imagine what it would 
 be if I had a son a son petted, idolized, even 
 madly worshipped. He represents, so to speak, an 
 incarnation or embodiment of my life's dreams,
 
 344 THE DUEL 
 
 sorrows, tears, sleepless nights, ajid then, suddenly, 
 occurs a senseless accident. My little son is sitting 
 playing at the window ; the nurse turns away for 
 a few minutes, and the child falls out on to 
 the pavement. My dear, my sorrow and indignation 
 can only be compared to this mother's despair. 
 But I am not blaming you." 
 
 Romashov was sitting i,n a very cramped and 
 uncomfortable position, and he was afraid that his 
 heavy head miight cause SJiurochka pain or dis- 
 comfort. But he had, however, for hours been 
 used to sitting without moving, and, in a sort of 
 intoxication, listen to the quick and regular beatings 
 of his heart. 
 
 " Do you hear what I say? " she asked, stooping 
 down to him. 
 
 " Yes, yes talk, talk. You know I'll do all you 
 wish. Oh, if I could only " 
 
 " No, no ; but only listen till I have finished < 
 If you kill him or if they prevent him from sitting 
 for the examination, then it is all, all over. That 
 very day I shall cast him off as a worthless thing, 
 and go my own way where? No matter where. 
 To St. Petersburg, Odessa, Kiev. Don't imagine 
 this is one of those common, untrue, ' penny- 
 novelette ' phrases. Cheap effects I despise, and 
 I will spare you them. But I know I am yoiuig, 
 intelligent, and well-educated. I am not pretty, but 
 I know the art of catching' men far better than 
 all those famous charmers who, at our official 'balls, 
 receive the prize for beauty in the form of an 
 elegant card-tray or something between a musical- 
 box and an alarum. I can stand in the background ; 
 I can, by coldness and contempt, be bitter to myself 
 and others. But I can flame up into a consuming 
 passion and burn like a firework."
 
 THE DUEL 345 
 
 Romashov glanced towards the window. His 
 eyes had now begun to be used to the darkness, 
 and he could distinguish the outlines of the frame- 
 work of the window. 
 
 " Don't talk like that, please. It pains me so ; 
 but, tell me, do you wish me to avoid the duel, and 
 send him an apology? Tell me." 
 
 Shurochka did not reply at once. The clock 
 again made its monotonous, metallic voice heard, and 
 filled every corner of the dark room with its infernal 
 din. At last Shurochka answered as softly as jf 
 she were talking to herself in thought, and with an 
 expression in her voice which Romashov was not ^n 
 a condition to interpret. 
 
 " I knew you would offer to do this." 
 
 " I do not feel afraid," he exclaimed in a stern but 
 soft tone. 
 
 " No, no, no," she saM hastily in an jeager, 
 beseeching whisper. " You misunderstood me, you 
 do not understand me. Come nearer to me. Come 
 and sit as you did just now. Come.l *' 
 
 She threw both her arms round his neck, and 
 whispered to him tender words, tickling his face 
 with her soft hair, and flooding his cheeks with her 
 hot breath. 
 
 " You quite misunderstood me. I meant some- 
 thing quite different, but I am ashamed to *tell 
 you' all. You are so good, so pure-hearted. I, 
 alas I am the opposite, and, therefore, it's so diffi- 
 cult for me to mention it." 
 
 " No, no. Tell me everything. I love you." 
 
 " Listen to me," she began, and Romashov 
 guessed what she would say before she could utter 
 the words. " If you refuse to fight with him, how 
 much shame and persecution, how many sufferings 
 will be your lot. No, no, this must not be done. Oh,
 
 346 THE DUEL 
 
 my God, at this moment I will not lie to you, dear. 
 I have already weighed everything carefully. 
 Suppose you refuse the duel. In that case my 
 husband will certainly be rehabilitated ; but, you 
 understand, after a duel that ends in reconciliation, 
 there is always something left how shall I put ,it? 
 something covered by a certain obscurity, and 
 which, therefore, leaves room for malice and slander. 
 Do you understand me now?" she added wijth 
 melancholy tenderness, pressing, at the same time, 
 a light kiss on his brow. 
 ' Yes, but go on." 
 
 " The consequence, of course, is that they would 
 never allow my husband even to present himself for 
 a fresh examination. The reputation of an officer 
 on the Staff must be unblemished. On the pther 
 hand, if a duel actually takes place, it will jput 
 you both in a dignified, heroic light. Men who 
 can conduct themselves fittingly in front of the 
 muzzle of a revolver very much will be forgiven 
 them in this world. Besides after the duel you 
 can, if you like, offer an apology ; but that I 
 leave to your own discretion." 
 
 Tightly clasped in each other's arms, they con- 
 tinued their conversation in a whisper, but Romas - 
 hov felt as if something mysterious, unclean, and 
 nauseous had crept in between him and Shurochka, 
 and he felt a freezing chill at heart. Again he 
 tried to tear himself away from her arms, but she 
 would not let him go. In his effort to hide from 
 her the nervous excitement he was in, he exclaimed 
 in a rough tone : 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, put an end to this ! Say 
 what you want, and I'll agree to everything." 
 
 Then she put her mouth so close to his that her 
 words affected him like hot, thrilling kisses.
 
 THE DUEL 347 
 
 ' The duel must take place, but neither of you 
 will run any risk. Don't misunderstand me, I 
 implore you, and don't condemn me. Like all 
 women, I loathe cowards, but, for my sake, you 
 must do this. No, Georgi, don't ask me if 
 my husband for the matter of that, he already 
 knows all." 
 
 Now at last Romashov managed to release himself 
 from the tight grip of her soft, strong arms. He 
 stood straight up before her, and answered in a 
 curt, rough voice : 
 
 " That's all right. It shall be as you ; wish I 
 I consent." 
 
 Shurochka also rose. Romashov could not see 
 in the dark room that she was putting her hair 
 straight, but he felt or guessed it. 
 
 " Are you going now? " he asked. 
 
 " Good-bye," she replied in a faint voice, " and 
 kiss me now for the last time." 
 
 Romashov's heart was shaken by pity and love. 
 Groping in the darkness, he caught her head in 
 his hands, and began kissing her eyes and cheeks, 
 which were wet with big, silent tears. This took 
 away his self-control. 
 
 " Don't cry like that, Sascha, my darling," he 
 implored in a sad and tender tone. 
 
 Suddenly throwing her arms round his neck, 
 she pressed herself tightly to him by a strong, 
 passionate movement, (and, without ceasing her 
 kisses, she whispered the words in short, broken 
 sentences. She was breathing heavily and tremb- 
 ling all over. 
 
 " I can't part from you like this. We shall never 
 see each other again. Some presentiment tells me 
 that, so at this only moment we must not fear any- 
 thing in the world. Let us be happy ! "
 
 348 THE DUEL 
 
 And at that moment the pair, the room, the entire 
 world, were filled with an ineffable bliss stupefying, 
 suffocating, consuming. For the space of a second 
 Romashov fancied he saw, as it were by miracle, 
 Shurochka's eyes shining on him with an expres- 
 sion of mad joy. Her lips sought his. 
 
 " May I accompany you home? " asked Romas- 
 hov, as he escorted her to the street. 
 
 " No, my darling, don't. I have not the least 
 idea how long I've been with you. What is the 
 time?" 
 
 " I don't know. I have not a watch." 
 
 She stood lingering there, leaning against the 
 gate. A powerful scent arose from the earth in 
 the warm, languishing summer night. It was still 
 dark, but, notwithstanding the darkness, Romashov 
 could clearly distinguish Shurochka's features, 
 motionless and pale as a marble statue's. 
 
 " Good-bye, my darling," she uttered at last in a 
 weary voice. " Good-bye." They embraced each 
 other, but their lips were cold and lifeless. 
 Shurochka departed quickly and was swallowed up 
 by the dark night. 
 
 Romashov remained a while listening till the last 
 faint sounds of her light steps could no longer be 
 caught, and then returned to his room. A feeling 
 of utter, yet pleasant, weariness took possession of 
 him. He had hardly undressed before he fell asleep. 
 And the last impression left on his mind was a 
 faint, delicious odour of perfume proceeding from 
 his pillow the scent from Shurochka's hair and 
 her fair young body.
 
 XXIII 
 
 June 2, 18 . 
 Z. 
 
 To his Excellency the Colonel and Commander of 
 the th Infantry Regiment from Ditz, Staff -Captain 
 of the same regiment. 
 
 REPORT. 
 
 Herewith allow me respectfully to report to your 
 Excellency that the duel T^etween Lieutenant 
 Nikolaiev and Sub - lieutenant Romashov took 
 place to-day, according to the conditions settled 
 by you on the ist inst. 
 
 The two adversaries met at 5.55 a.m. in the wood 
 called " Oakwood," situated three and a quarter 
 versts beyond the town. The duel was decided in 
 the space of one minute ten seconds, including the 
 time for placing the parties and giving the signal. 
 The places taken by the duellists were determined 
 by lot. When the command " Forward " was given 
 the fight began. As the two officers approached 
 each other, a shot from Lieutenant Nikolaiev struck 
 Sub -lieutenant Romashov high on the right side. 
 After this Lieutenant Nikolaiev stopped to await 
 his adversary's bullet, but, after the lapse of half a 
 minute, it was evident that Sub -lieutenant Romas- 
 hov was not in a condition to return the shot, by 
 reason of which Sub -lieutenant Romashov's seconds 
 declared the duel was ended, as to which other 
 
 349
 
 350 THE DUEL 
 
 witnesses were agreed. Sub -lieutenant Romashov, 
 on being carried to his carriage, fell into a deep 
 swoon, and died in five minutes through internal 
 haemorrhage. 
 
 The seconds on Lieutenant Nikolaiev's side were 
 the undersigned and Lieutenant Vasin ; on Sub-lieu- 
 tenant Romashov's, Lieutenants Biek-Agamalov and 
 Viatkin. The further arrangements for the duel 
 were, by general agreement, made by me. 
 
 A certificate from Dr. Znoiko is enclosed herein. 
 
 DITZ, 
 Staff -Captain.
 
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