'They're coming!'
XIX
'It's the first time in my life I've seen it! How glorious!' said Von Koren, pointing to the glade and stretching out his hands to the east. 'Look: green rays!'
In the east behind the mountains rose two green streaks of light, and it really was beautiful. The sun was rising.
'Good-morning!' the zoologist went on, nodding to Laevsky's seconds. 'I'm not late, am I?'
He was followed by his seconds, Boyko and Govorovsky, two very young officers of the same height, wearing white tunics, and Ustimovitch, the thin, unsociable doctor; in one hand he had a bag of some sort, and in the other hand, as usual, a cane which he held behind him. Laying the bag on the ground and greeting no one, he put the other hand, too, behind his back and began pacing up and down the glade.
Laevsky felt the exhaustion and awkwardness of a man who is soon perhaps to die, and is for that reason an object of general attention. He wanted to be killed as soon as possible or taken home. He saw the sunrise now for the first time in his life; the early morning, the green rays of light, the dampness, and the men in wet boots, seemed to him to have nothing to do with his life, to be superfluous and embarrassing. All this had no connection with the night he had been through, with his thoughts and his feeling of guilt, and so he would have gladly gone away without waiting for the duel.
Von Koren was noticeably excited and tried to conceal it, pretending that he was more interested in the green light than anything. The seconds were confused, and looked at one another as though wondering why they were here and what they were to do.
'I imagine, gentlemen, there is no need for us to go further,' said Sheshkovsky. 'This place will do.'
'Yes, of course,' Von Koren agreed.
A silence followed. Ustimovitch, pacing to and fro, suddenly turned sharply to Laevsky and said in a low voice, breathing into his face:
'They have very likely not told you my terms yet. Each side is to pay me fifteen roubles, and in the case of the death of one party, the survivor is to pay thirty.'
Laevsky was already acquainted with the man, but now for the first time he had a distinct view of his lustreless eyes, his stiff moustaches, and wasted, consumptive neck; he was a money-grubber, not a doctor; his breath had an unpleasant smell of beef.
'What people there are in the world!' thought Laevsky, and answered: 'Very good.'
The doctor nodded and began pacing to and fro again, and it was evident he did not need the money at all, but simply asked for it from hatred. Every one felt it was time to begin, or to end what had been begun, but instead of beginning or ending, they stood about, moved to and fro and smoked. The young officers, who were present at a duel for the first time in their lives, and even now hardly believed in this civilian and, to their thinking, unnecessary duel, looked critically at their tunics and stroked their sleeves. Sheshkovsky went up to them and said softly: 'Gentlemen, we must use every effort to prevent this duel; they ought to be reconciled.'
He flushed crimson and added:
'Kirilin was at my rooms last night complaining that Laevsky had found him with Nadyezhda Fyodorovna, and all that sort of thing.'
'Yes, we know that too,' said Boyko.
'Well, you see, then . . . Laevsky's hands are trembling and all that sort of thing . . . he can scarcely hold a pistol now. 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.'
'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.
'There's something I must say to you, sir,' he began, carefully scrutinising the flowers on the zoologist's shirt. 'It's confidential. I don't know the rules of duelling, damnation take them, and I don't want to, and I look on the matter not as a second and that sort of thing, but as a man, and that's all about it.'
'Yes. Well?'
'When seconds suggest reconciliation they are usually not listened to; it is looked upon as a formality.
Sheshkovsky flushed crimson and looked round.
'But in view of the duel, I think it necessary to inform you, Laevsky found his madam last night at Muridov's with . . . another gentleman.'
'How disgusting!' muttered the zoologist; he turned pale, frowned, and spat loudly. 'Tfoo!'
His lower lip quivered, he walked away from Sheshkovsky, unwilling to hear more, and as though he had accidentally tasted something bitter, spat loudly again, and for the first time that morning looked with hatred at Laevsky. His excitement and awkwardness passed off; he tossed his head and said aloud:
'Gentlemen, what are we waiting for, I should like to know? Why don't we begin?'
Sheshkovsky glanced at the officers and shrugged his shoulders.
'Gentlemen,' he said aloud, addressing no one in particular. 'Gentlemen, we propose that you should be
