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Updated: June 8, 2025
Anyway, I shall first slap him; the initiative will be mine; and by the laws of honour that is everything: he will be branded and cannot wipe off the slap by any blows, by nothing but a duel. He will be forced to fight. And let them beat me now. Let them, the ungrateful wretches! Trudolyubov will beat me hardest, he is so strong; Ferfitchkin will be sure to catch hold sideways and tug at my hair.
Zverkov, of course, won't pay." "Of course not, since we are inviting him," Simonov decided. "Can you imagine," Ferfitchkin interrupted hotly and conceitedly, like some insolent flunkey boasting of his master the General's decorations, "can you imagine that Zverkov will let us pay alone? He will accept from delicacy, but he will order half a dozen bottles of champagne."
"Ferfitchkin, yours too, and everyone's, everyone's: I have insulted you all!" "Aha! A duel is not in your line, old man," Ferfitchkin hissed venomously. It sent a sharp pang to my heart. "No, it's not the duel I am afraid of, Ferfitchkin! I am ready to fight you tomorrow, after we are reconciled. I insist upon it, in fact, and you cannot refuse. I want to show you that I am not afraid of a duel.
"If he wants to come so much, let him." "But it's a private thing, between us friends," Ferfitchkin said crossly, as he, too, picked up his hat. "It's not an official gathering." "We do not want at all, perhaps ..." They went away. Ferfitchkin did not greet me in any way as he went out, Trudolyubov barely nodded.
"Oh, there's no making you out ... with these refinements," Trudolyubov jeered. "We'll put your name down," Simonov decided, addressing me. "Tomorrow at five-o'clock at the Hotel de Paris." "What about the money?" Ferfitchkin began in an undertone, indicating me to Simonov, but he broke off, for even Simonov was embarrassed. "That will do," said Trudolyubov, getting up.
Of Simonov's two visitors, one was Ferfitchkin, a Russianised German a little fellow with the face of a monkey, a blockhead who was always deriding everyone, a very bitter enemy of mine from our days in the lower forms a vulgar, impudent, swaggering fellow, who affected a most sensitive feeling of personal honour, though, of course, he was a wretched little coward at heart.
Seduce the Circassian girls, shoot the enemies of the fatherland and ... and ... to your health, Monsieur Zverkov!" Zverkov got up from his seat, bowed to me and said: "I am very much obliged to you." He was frightfully offended and turned pale. "Damn the fellow!" roared Trudolyubov, bringing his fist down on the table. "Well, he wants a punch in the face for that," squealed Ferfitchkin.
"Yes, you can't afford to dine at cafes on that," Ferfitchkin added insolently. "To my thinking it's very poor," Trudolyubov observed gravely. "And how thin you have grown! How you have changed!" added Zverkov, with a shade of venom in his voice, scanning me and my attire with a sort of insolent compassion. "Oh, spare his blushes," cried Ferfitchkin, sniggering.
I drew myself up in my chair and feverishly seized my glass, prepared for something extraordinary, though I did not know myself precisely what I was going to say. "SILENCE!" cried Ferfitchkin. "Now for a display of wit!" Zverkov waited very gravely, knowing what was coming. "Mr.
Simonov observed, with no appearance of pleasure, seeming to avoid looking at me. He knew me through and through. It infuriated me that he knew me so thoroughly. "Why not? I am an old schoolfellow of his, too, I believe, and I must own I feel hurt that you have left me out," I said, boiling over again. "And where were we to find you?" Ferfitchkin put in roughly.
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