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Updated: June 14, 2025
The moment while Von Koren was taking aim seemed to Laevsky longer than a night: he glanced imploringly at the seconds; they were pale and did not stir. "Make haste and fire," thought Laevsky, and felt that his pale, quivering, and pitiful face must arouse even greater hatred in Von Koren. "I'll kill him directly," thought Von Koren, aiming at his forehead, with his finger already on the catch.
He would have found God and goodness, but that was as impossible as to put back the fallen star into the sky, and because it was impossible he was in despair. When the storm was over, he sat by the open window and thought calmly of what was before him. Von Koren would most likely kill him.
Nadyezhda Fyodorovna came in; she stopped near the doorway and looked shyly at the visitors. There was a look of guilt and dismay on her face, and she held her hands like a schoolgirl receiving a scolding. "I'm just going away, Nadyezhda Fyodorovna," said Von Koren, "and have come to say good-bye." She held out her hand uncertainly, while Laevsky bowed.
"Well, good-bye. . . . God give you all happiness." Von Koren gave Laevsky his hand; the latter took it and bowed. "Don't remember evil against me," said Von Koren. "Give my greetings to your wife, and say I am very sorry not to say good-bye to her." "She is at home." Laevsky went to the door of the next room, and said: "Nadya, Nikolay Vassilitch wants to say goodbye to you."
Kerbalay nodded his shaven head and muttered something, and only those sitting in the last carriage could hear: "We've got trout, your Excellency." "Bring them, bring them!" said Von Koren. Five hundred paces from the duhan the carriages stopped.
"Yes," laughed Samoylenko. Laevsky laughed too, and drank some wine. "His ideals are despotic too," he said, laughing, and biting a peach. "Ordinary mortals think of their neighbour me, you, man in fact if they work for the common weal. To Von Koren men are puppets and nonentities, too trivial to be the object of his life.
There is but one exception, the zoologist von Koren, a man of determination, who believes that the suppression of useless people and degenerates would be a meritorious piece of work. This idea is suggested to him by the sight of a functionary called Layevsky, an insignificant and lazy person, who has taken the wife of one of his friends and fled with her to the Caucasus.
He didn't hear what was said to him; he staggered back, and did not know how he found himself in the street. His hatred for Von Koren and his uneasiness all had vanished from his soul. As he went home he waved his right arm awkwardly and looked carefully at the ground under his feet, trying to step where it was smooth.
Take the hundred roubles," said Von Koren, dropping his voice, "but only on condition that you're not borrowing it for Laevsky." "And if it were for Laevsky," cried Samoylenko, flaring up, "what is that to you?" "I can't give it to you for Laevsky. I know you like lending people money.
"I was very much tempted to put an end to that scoundrel," said Von Koren, "but you shouted close by, and I missed my aim. The whole procedure is revolting to any one who is not used to it, and it has exhausted me, deacon. I feel awfully tired. Come along. . . ." "No, you must let me walk back. I must get dry, for I am wet and cold."
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