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Updated: May 14, 2025
Far over the sea was a flash of lightning, followed by a hollow roll of thunder. "How stifling it is before a storm!" said Von Koren. "I bet you've been to Laevsky already and have been weeping on his bosom." "Why should I go to him?" answered the doctor in confusion. "What next?" Before sunset he had walked several times along the boulevard and the street in the hope of meeting Laevsky.
"You've no need to be angry, Kolya," said Samoylenko mildly, folding up the note. "I quite understand you, but . . . you must put yourself in my place." "You are an old woman, that's what you are." The deacon burst out laughing. "Hear my last request, Alexandr Daviditch," said Von Koren hotly.
It was not fear at the thought of death, because while he was dining and playing cards, he had for some reason a confident belief that the duel would end in nothing; it was dread at the thought of something unknown which was to happen next morning for the first time in his life, and dread of the coming night. . . . He knew that the night would be long and sleepless, and that he would have to think not only of Von Koren and his hatred, but also of the mountain of lies which he had to get through, and which he had not strength or ability to dispense with.
I'm an indolent, weak, submissive nature. Perhaps in a good minute I might hold out my hand to him, but he would turn away from me . . . with contempt." Laevsky took a sip of wine, walked from corner to corner and went on, standing in the middle of the room: "I understand Von Koren very well. His is a resolute, strong, despotic nature.
"I don't know the rules of duelling, damnation take them, and I don't want to either; perhaps he'll imagine Laevsky funks it and has sent me to him, but he can think what he likes I'll speak to him." Sheshkovsky hesitatingly walked up to Von Koren with a slight limp, as though his leg had gone to sleep; and as he went towards him, clearing his throat, his whole figure was a picture of indolence.
The famished deacon and Von Koren began tapping on the floor with their heels, expressing in this way their impatience like the audience at a theatre. At last the door opened and the harassed orderly announced that dinner was ready!
Give him that hundred-rouble note! Or subscribe a hundred roubles to my expedition!" "Will you give me the money or not? I ask you!" "Tell me openly: what does he want money for? "It's not a secret; he wants to go to Petersburg on Saturday." "So that is it!" Von Koren drawled out. "Aha! . . . We understand. And is she going with him, or how is it to be?" "She's staying here for the time.
Laevsky, exhausted by the picnic, by the hatred of Von Koren, and by his own thoughts, went to meet Nadyezhda Fyodorovna, and when, gay and happy, feeling light as a feather, breathless and laughing, she took him by both hands and laid her head on his breast, he stepped back and said dryly: "You are behaving like a . . . cocotte." It sounded horribly coarse, so that he felt sorry for her at once.
To fight with him is as inhuman as to fight a man who is drunk or who has typhoid. If a reconciliation cannot be arranged, we ought to put off the duel, gentlemen, or something. . . . It's such a sickening business, I can't bear to see it. "Talk to Von Koren."
He looked with almost tearful tenderness at Von Koren and the deacon, and muttered: "The younger generation. . . A scientific star and a luminary of the Church. . . . I shouldn't wonder if the long-skirted alleluia will be shooting up into a bishop; I dare say I may come to kissing his hand. . . . Well . . . please God. . . ." Soon a snore was heard.
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