and now we had climbed to the summit of the projecting cliff. the ledge was covered with fine sand, as if on purpose for a duel. all around, like an innumerable herd, crowded the mountains, their summits lost to view in the golden mist of the morning; and towards the south rose the white mass of elbruz, closing the chain of icy peaks, among which fibrous clouds, which had rushed in from the east, were already roaming. i walked to the extremity of the ledge and gazed down. my head nearly swam. at the foot of the precipice all seemed dark and cold as in a tomb; the moss-grown jags of the rocks, hurled down by storm and time, were awaiting their prey.
the ledge on which we were to fight formed an almost regular triangle. six paces were measured from the projecting corner, and it was decided that whichever had first to meet the fire of his opponent should stand in the very corner with his back to the precipice; if he was not killed the adversaries would change places.
i determined to relinquish every advantage to grushnitski; i wanted to test him. a spark of magnanimity might awake in his soul—and then all would have been settled for the best. but his vanity and weakness of character had perforce to triumph!... i wished to give myself the full right to refrain from sparing him if destiny were to favour me. who would not have concluded such an agreement with his conscience?
“cast the lot, doctor!” said the captain.
the doctor drew a silver coin from his pocket and held it up.
“tail!” cried grushnitski hurriedly, like a man suddenly aroused by a friendly nudge.
“head,” i said.
the coin spun in the air and fell, jingling. we all rushed towards it.
“you are lucky,” i said to grushnitski. “you are to fire first! but remember that if you do not kill me i shall not miss—i give you my word of honour.”
he flushed up; he was ashamed to kill an unarmed man. i looked at him fixedly; for a moment it seemed to me that he would throw himself at my feet, imploring forgiveness; but how to confess so base a plot?... one expedient only was left to him—to fire in the air! i was convinced that he would fire in the air! one consideration alone might prevent him doing so—the thought that i would demand a second duel.
“now is the time!” the doctor whispered to me, plucking me by the sleeve. “if you do not tell them now that we know their intentions, all is lost. look, he is loading already... if you will not say anything, i will”...
“on no account, doctor!” i answered, holding him back by the arm. “you will spoil everything. you have given me your word not to interfere... what does it matter to you? perhaps i wish to be killed”...
he looked at me in astonishment.
“oh, that is another thing!... only do not complain of me in the other world”...
meanwhile the captain had loaded his pistols and given one to grushnitski, after whispering something to him with a smile; the other he gave to me.
i placed myself in the corner of the ledge, planting my left foot firmly against the rock and bending slightly forward, so that, in case of a slight wound, i might not fall over backwards.
grushnitski placed himself opposite me and, at a given signal, began to raise his pistol. his knees shook. he aimed right at my forehead... unutterable fury began to seethe within my breast.
suddenly he dropped the muzzle of the pistol and, pale as a sheet, turned to his second.
“i cannot,” he said in a hollow voice.
“coward!” answered the captain.
a shot rang out. the bullet grazed my knee. involuntarily i took a few paces forward in order to get away from the edge as quickly as possible.
“well, my dear grushnitski, it is a pity that you have missed!” said the captain. “now it is your turn, take your stand! embrace me first: we shall not see each other again!”
they embraced; the captain could scarcely refrain from laughing.
“do not be afraid,” he added, glancing cunningly at grushnitski; “everything in this world is nonsense... nature is a fool, fate a turkeyhen, and life a copeck!” 31
after that tragic phrase, uttered with becoming gravity, he went back to his place. ivan ignatevich, with tears, also embraced grushnitski, and there the latter remained alone, facing me. ever since then, i have been trying to explain to myself what sort of feeling it was that was boiling within my breast at that moment: it was the vexation of injured vanity, and contempt, and wrath engendered at the thought that the man now looking at me with such confidence, such quiet insolence, had, two minutes before, been about to kill me like a dog, without exposing himself to the least danger, because had i been wounded a little more severely in the leg i should inevitably have fallen over the cliff.
for a few moments i looked him fixedly in the face, trying to discern thereon even a slight trace of repentance. but it seemed to me that he was restraining a smile.
“i should advise you to say a prayer before you die,” i said.
“do not worry about my soul any more than your own. one thing i beg of you: be quick about firing.”
“and you do not recant your slander? you do not beg my forgiveness?... bethink you well: has your conscience nothing to say to you?”
“mr. pechorin!” exclaimed the captain of dragoons. “allow me to point out that you are not here to preach... let us lose no time, in case anyone should ride through the gorge and we should be seen.”
“very well. doctor, come here!”
the doctor came up to me. poor doctor! he was paler than grushnitski had been ten minutes before.
the words which followed i purposely pronounced with a pause between each—loudly and distinctly, as the sentence of death is pronounced:
“doctor, these gentlemen have forgotten, in their hurry, no doubt, to put a bullet in my pistol. i beg you to load it afresh—and properly!”
“impossible!” cried the captain, “impossible! i loaded both pistols. perhaps the bullet has rolled out of yours... that is not my fault! and you have no right to load again... no right at all. it is altogether against the rules, i shall not allow it”...
“very well!” i said to the captain. “if so, then you and i shall fight on the same terms”...
he came to a dead stop.
grushnitski stood with his head sunk on his breast, embarrassed and gloomy.
“let them be!” he said at length to the captain, who was going to pull my pistol out of the doctor’s hands. “you know yourself that they are right.”
in vain the captain made various signs to him. grushnitski would not even look.
meanwhile the doctor had loaded the pistol and handed it to me. on seeing that, the captain spat and stamped his foot.
“you are a fool, then, my friend,” he said: “a common fool!... you trusted to me before, so you should obey me in everything now... but serve you right! die like a fly!”...
he turned away, muttering as he went:
“but all the same it is absolutely against the rules.”
“grushnitski!” i said. “there is still time: recant your slander, and i will forgive you everything. you have not succeeded in making a fool of me; my self-esteem is satisfied. remember—we were once friends”...
his face flamed, his eyes flashed.
“fire!” he answered. “i despise myself and i hate you. if you do not kill me i will lie in wait for you some night and cut your throat. there is not room on the earth for both of us”...
i fired.
when the smoke had cleared away, grushnitski was not to be seen on the ledge. only a slender column of dust was still eddying at the edge of the precipice.
there was a simultaneous cry from the rest.
“finita la commedia!” i said to the doctor.
he made no answer, and turned away with horror.
i shrugged my shoulders and bowed to grushnitski’s seconds.
