“‘You do not recognize me, Count?’ said he, in a quivering voice.
“‘Silvio!’ I cried, and I confess that I felt as if my hair had suddenly stood on end.
“‘Exactly,’ continued he. ‘There is a shot due to me, and I have come to discharge my pistol. Are you ready?’
“His pistol protruded from a side pocket. I measured twelve paces and took my stand there in that corner, begging him to fire quickly, before my wife arrived. He hesitated, and asked for a light. Candles were brought in. I closed the doors, gave orders that nobody was to enter, and again begged him to fire. He drew out his pistol and took aim.... I counted the seconds ... I thought of her.... A terrible minute passed! Silvio lowered his hand.
“‘I regret,’ said he, ‘that the pistol is not loaded with cherry-stones ... the bullet is heavy. It seems to me that this is not a duel, but a murder. I am not accustomed to taking aim at unarmed men. Let us begin all over again; we will cast lots as to who shall fire first.’
“My head went round ... I think I raised some objection.... At last we loaded another pistol, and rolled up two pieces of paper. He placed these latter in his cap—the same through which I had once sent a bullet—and again I drew the first number.
“‘You are devilish lucky, Count,’ said he, with a smile that I shall never forget.
“I don’t know what was the matter with me, or how it was that he managed to make me do it ... but I fired and hit that picture.”
The Count pointed with his finger to the perforated picture; his face glowed like fire; the Countess was whiter than her own handkerchief; and I could not restrain an exclamation.
“I fired,” continued the Count, “and, thank Heaven, missed my aim. Then Silvio ... at that moment he was really terrible.... Silvio raised his hand to take aim at me. Suddenly the door opens, Masha rushes into the room, and with a loud shriek throws herself upon my neck. Her presence restored to me all my courage.