Shvabrin’s shamelessness nearly threw me into a rage; but nobody except myself understood his crude insinuations; at least nobody paid attention to them. From songs the conversation turned to poets, and the commandant observed that they were all dissipated people and hardened drunkards, and advised me in friendly fashion to give up verse writing as an occupation contrary to the service and leading to no good.
Shvabrin’s presence was unbearable to me. I quickly took leave of the commandant and his family; on coming home I examined my sword, tried the point, and went to bed, having asked Savelyich to wake me up after six.
The next day at the appointed time I was already standing behind the haystacks waiting for my adversary. He soon appeared.
“They may catch us at it,” he said to me. “We’ll have to hurry up.” We took off our uniform coats, remaining in our waistcoats, and drew our swords. Just then Ivan Ignatyich and five veterans suddenly appeared from behind the haystacks. He summoned us to the commandant. We grudgingly obeyed; the soldiers surrounded us, and we headed for the fortress, following Ivan Ignatyich, who led us in triumph, striding along with extraordinary solemnity.
We went into the commandant’s house. Ivan Ignatyich opened the door, announcing triumphantly:
“I’ve brought them!”
We were met by Vasilisa Egorovna.
“Ah, my dears! What’s this? How? Why? Bringing murder into our fortress? Ivan Kuzmich, arrest them at once! Pyotr Andreich! Alexei Ivanych! Give your swords here, give them here, give them here. Palashka, take these swords to the storeroom. Pyotr Andreich! I didn’t expect this from you! Aren’t you ashamed? Alexei Ivanych is another thing: he was dismissed from the guards for killing a man, and he doesn’t believe in the Lord God—but you? Are you going the same way?”
Ivan Kuzmich agreed completely with his wife and kept repeating: “See here, Vasilisa Egorovna’s right. Duels are formally forbidden by the articles of war.”17
Meanwhile Palashka took our swords from us and carried them to the storeroom. I could not help laughing. Shvabrin preserved his solemnity.
“With all due respect,” he said to her coolly, “I cannot help but observe that you need not trouble yourself, subjecting us to your judgment. Leave it to Ivan Kuzmich: it is his business.”
“Ah, my dear,” the commandant’s wife retorted, “aren’t husband and wife one spirit and one flesh?18 Ivan Kuzmich! What are you gawking at? Separate them at once in different corners on bread and water till their foolishness goes away; and let Father Gerasim put a penance on them, so that they ask forgiveness of God and repent before men.”
Ivan Kuzmich could not decide what to do. Marya Ivanovna was extremely pale. The storm gradually subsided: the commandant’s wife calmed down and made us kiss each other. Palashka brought us our swords. We left the commandant’s apparently reconciled. Ivan Ignatyich accompanied us.
“Weren’t you ashamed,” I said to him angrily, “to inform on us to the commandant after you promised me you wouldn’t?”
“As God is holy, I didn’t say a word to Ivan Kuzmich,” he replied. “Vasilisa Egorovna wormed it all out of me. And she gave all the orders without the commandant’s knowledge. Anyhow, thank God it’s all ended like this.” With those words he headed for home, and Shvabrin and I were left alone.
“We can’t end things like that,” I said to him.
“Of course not,” Shvabrin replied. “You’ll answer me for your impudence with your blood. But they’ll probably keep an eye on us. We’ll have to pretend for a few days. Good-bye!” And we parted as if nothing had happened.
On returning to the commandant’s, I sat down, as usual, near Marya Ivanovna. Ivan Kuzmich was not at home; Vasilisa Egorovna was busy around the house. We talked in low voices. Marya Ivanovna chided me tenderly for the worry my quarrel with Shvabrin had caused them all.
“My heart just sank,” she said, “when they said you were going to fight with swords. How strange men are! For one little word, which they’d surely forget about in a week, they’re ready to cut each other up and sacrifice not only their lives but their consciences, and the well-being of those who…But I’m sure it wasn’t you who started the quarrel. Surely Alexei Ivanych is to blame.”
“And why do you think so, Marya Ivanovna?”
“It’s just…he’s such a scoffer! I don’t like Alexei Ivanyich. He really disgusts me; but it’s strange: I wouldn’t want him to dislike me for anything. That would worry me dreadfully.”
“And what do you think, Marya Ivanovna? Does he like you or not?”
Marya Ivanovna hesitated and blushed.
“It seems to me…” she said. “I think he does.”
“Why does it seem so to you?”
“Because he asked to marry me.”
“To marry you! He asked to marry you? When was that?”
“Last year. About two months before your arrival.”
“And you didn’t accept him?”
