“The consequence, of course, is that they would never allow my husband even to present himself for a fresh examination. The reputation of an officer on the Staff must be unblemished. On the other hand, if a duel actually takes place, it will put you both in a dignified, heroic light. Men who can conduct themselves fittingly in front of the muzzle of a revolver—very much will be forgiven them in this world. Besides—after the duel—you can, if you like, offer an apology; but that I leave to your own discretion.”
Tightly clasped in each other’s arms, they continued their conversation in a whisper, but Romashov felt as if something mysterious, unclean, and nauseous had crept in between him and Shurochka, and he felt a freezing chill at heart. Again he tried to tear himself away from her arms, but she would not let him go. In his effort to hide from her the nervous excitement he was in, he exclaimed in a rough tone:
“For Heaven’s sake, put an end to this! Say what you want, and I’ll agree to everything.”
Then she put her mouth so close to his that her words affected him like hot, thrilling kisses.
“The duel must take place, but neither of you will run any risk. Don’t misunderstand me, I implore you, and don’t condemn me. Like all women, I loathe cowards, but, for my sake, you must do this. No, Georgi, don’t ask me if my husband—for the matter of that, he already knows all.”
Now at last Romashov managed to release himself from the tight grip of her soft, strong arms. He stood straight up before her, and answered in a curt, rough voice:
“That’s all right. It shall be as you wish! I consent.”
Shurochka also rose. Romashov could not see in the dark room that she was putting her hair straight, but he felt or guessed it.
“Are you going now?” he asked.
“Good-bye,” she replied in a faint voice, “and kiss me now for the last time.”