Vasíly stamped his foot.
"Olga Ivánovna? Olga?..."
"Yes .... your betrothed bride...."
"My betrothed bride .... Vasíly Ivánovitch .... she .... she .... But I
will have nothing to do with her!"--shouted Pável Afanásievitch. "I 'll
have none of her! What do you take me for? To deceive me--to deceive
me!... Olga Ivánovna, is n't it sinful of you, are n't you ashamed?...."
(Tears gushed from his eyes.)--"I thank you, Vasíly Ivánovitch, I thank
you.... And now I 'll have nothing to do with her! I won't! I won't!
don't speak of such a thing!.... Akh, good heavens!--that I should have
lived to see this day! But it is well, it is well!"
"Stop behaving like a baby,"--remarked Vasíly Ivánovitch,
coldly.--"Remember, you have given me your word that the wedding shall
take place to-morrow."
"No, that shall not be! Enough, Vasíly Ivánovitch, I say to you once
more--for whom do you take me? You do me much honour; many thanks, sir.
Excuse me, sir."
"As you like!"--retorted Vasíly.--"Get your sword."
"Why?"
"This is why."
Vasíly drew out his slender, flexible French sword, and bent it slightly
against the floor.
"You mean .... to fight .... with me?..."
"Precisely so."
"But, Vasíly Ivánovitch, pray, enter into my position! How can I--judge
for yourself--after what you have told me?... I am an honest man,
Vasíly Ivánovitch; I am a nobleman."
"You are a nobleman, you are an honest man,--then be so good as to fight
with me."
"Vasíly Ivánovitch!"
"You appear to be a coward, Mr. Rogatchyóff?"
"I am not in the least a coward, Vasíly Ivánovitch. You have thought to
frighten me, Vasíly Ivánovitch. 'Come, now,' you said to yourself, 'I
'll scare him, and he 'll turn cowardly; he will instantly consent to
anything.'.... No, Vasíly Ivánovitch, I 'm the same sort of nobleman as
yourself, although I have not received my education in the capital, it
is true; and you will not succeed in terrifying me, excuse me."
"Very good,"--retorted Vasíly:--"where is your sword?"
"Eróshka!"--shouted Pável Afanásievitch.
A man entered.
"Get my sword--yonder--thou knowest where it is--in the garret .... and
be quick about it...."
Eróshka withdrew. Pável Afanásievitch suddenly turned extremely pale,
hastily took off his dressing-gown, put on a kaftan of a reddish hue
with large strass buttons .... wound a neckcloth round his neck....
Vasíly watched him, and examined the fingers of his right hand.
"So how is it to be? Are we to fight, Pável Afanásievitch?"
"If we must fight, we must,"--returned Rogatchyóff, hastily buttoning
his waistcoat.
"Hey, Pável Afanásievitch, heed my advice: marry .... why shouldst thou
not?... But I, believe me ...."
"No, Vasíly Ivánovitch,"--Rogatchyóff interrupted him. "You will either
kill me or maim me, I know; but I have no intention of losing my honour;
if I must die, I will."
Eróshka entered and hurriedly handed Rogatchyóff a wretched little old
sword, in a cracked, leather scabbard. At that time all nobles wore
swords when they had powdered hair; but the nobles of the steppes only
powdered their hair a couple of times a year. Eróshka retreated to the
door, and fell to weeping. Pável Afanásievitch thrust him out of the
room.
"But, Vasíly Ivánovitch,"--he remarked, with some agitation,--"I cannot
fight with you instantly: permit me to defer our duel until to-morrow;
my father is not at home; and it would not be a bad thing to put my
affairs in order, in case of a catastrophe."
"I see that you are beginning to quail again, my dear sir."
"No, no, Vasíly Ivánovitch; but judge for yourself...."
"Listen!"... shouted Lutchínoff:--"you are driving me out of
patience.... Either give me your word to marry immediately, or fight
.... or I will trounce you with a cudgel, like a coward, do you
understand?"
"Let us go into the park,"--replied Rogatchyóff between his teeth.
But suddenly the door opened, and the old nurse Efímovna, all
dishevelled, forced her way into the room, fell on her knees before
Rogatchyóff and clasped his feet....
"My dear little father!"--she wailed:--"my child .... what is this thou
art projecting? Do not ruin us miserable ones, dear little father! For
he will kill thee, my dear little dove! But only give us the command,
give us the command, and we 'll kill that insolent fellow with our
caps.... Pável Afanásievitch, my darling child, have the fear of God
before thine eyes!"
A multitude of pale and agitated faces showed themselves in the doorway
.... the red beard of the Elder even made its appearance....
"Let me go, Efímovna, let me go!"--muttered Rogatchyóff.
"I will not let thee go, my own one, I will not let thee go. What art
thou doing, dear little father, what art thou doing? And what will
Afanásy Lúkitch say? Why, he will drive all of us out of the white
world.... And why do ye stand there? Seize the unbidden guest by the
arms, and lead him forth from the house, that no trace of him may
remain...."
"Rogatchyóff!"--shouted Vasíly Ivánovitch, menacingly.
"Thou hast gone crazy, Efímovna, thou art disgracing me,".... said Pável
Afanásievitch.--"Go away, go, with God's blessing, and begone, all of
you, do you hear? Do you hear?..."
Vasíly Ivánovitch walked swiftly to the open window, drew out a small
silver whistle, and whistled lightly.... Boursier answered close at
hand. Lutchínoff immediately turned to Pável Afanásievitch.
"How is this comedy to end?"
"Vasíly Ivánovitch, I will come to you to-morrow--what am I to do with
this crazy woman?...."
"Eh! I see that it is useless to talk long with you,"--said Vasíly, and
swiftly raised his cane....
Pável Afanásievitch dashed forward, thrust aside Efímovna, seized his
sword, and rushed through the other door into the park.
Vasíly darted after him. They both ran to a wooden arbour artfully
painted in the Chinese manner, locked themselves in, and bared their
swords. Rogatchyóff had once upon a time taken lessons in fencing; but
he barely knew how to parry properly. The blades crossed. Vasíly was,
evidently, playing with Rogatchyóff's sword. Pável Afanásievitch sighed,
turned pale, and gazed with consternation into Lutchínoff's face. In
the meanwhile, cries resounded in the park; a throng of people rushed
to the arbour. Suddenly Rogatchyóff heard a heart-rending, senile roar
.... he recognised his father's voice. Afanásy Lúkitch, hatless, and
with dishevelled locks, was running in front of all, waving his arms
despairingly....
With a powerful and unexpected turn of his blade, Vasíly knocked the
sword from Pável Afanásievitch's hand.
"Marry, brother,"--he said to him.--"Stop being a fool!"
"I will not marry!"--whispered Rogatchyóff, closed his eyes, and
trembled all over.
Afanásy Lúkitch began to pound on the door of the arbour.
"Thou wilt not?"--shouted Vasíly.
Rogatchyóff shook his head in the negative.
"Well, then, the devil take thee!"
Poor Pável Afanásievitch fell dead: Lutchínoff's sword had pierced his
heart.... The door burst open, old Rogatchyóff rushed into the arbour,
but Vasíly had already managed to spring out of the window...
Two hours later, he entered Olga Ivánovna's room... She darted to meet
him in affright.... He silently bowed to her, drew out his sword, and
pierced Pável Afanásievitch's portrait at the place of the heart. Olga
shrieked, and fell senseless on the floor.... Vasíly directed his steps
to Anna Pávlovna. He found her in the room of the holy pictures.
"Mamma,"--he said,--"we are avenged."
The poor old woman shuddered and went on praying.
A week later, Vasíly took his departure for Petersburg,--and two years
afterward he returned to the country, crippled with paralysis, and
speechless. He no longer found either Anna Pávlovna or Olga Ivánovna
alive, and soon died himself in the arms of Yúditch, who fed him like a
baby, and was the only person who could understand his incoherent
babble.