“I repeat again my offer to make every possible apology,” Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch interposed hurriedly.
“This is impossible,” shouted Gaganov furiously, addressing Mavriky Nikolaevitch, and stamping with rage. “Explain to this man,” he pointed with his pistol at Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch, “if you’re my second and not my enemy, Mavriky Nikolaevitch, that such overtures only aggravate the insult. He feels it impossible to be insulted by me!… He feels it no disgrace to walk away from me at the barrier! What does he take me for, after that, do you think?… And you, you, my second, too! You’re simply irritating me that I may miss.”
He stamped again. There were flecks of foam on his lips.
“Negotiations are over. I beg you to listen to the signal!” Kirillov shouted at the top of his voice. “One! Two! Three!”
At the word “Three” the combatants took aim at one another. Gaganov at once raised his pistol, and at the fifth or sixth step he fired. For a second he stood still, and, making sure that he had missed, advanced to the barrier. Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch advanced too, raising his pistol, but somehow holding it very high, and fired, almost without taking aim. Then he took out his handkerchief and bound it round the little finger of his right hand. Only then they saw that Gaganov had not missed him completely, but the bullet had only grazed the fleshy part of his finger without touching the bone; it was only a slight scratch. Kirillov at once announced that the duel would go on, unless the combatants were satisfied.
“I declare,” said Gaganov hoarsely (his throat felt parched), again addressing Mavriky Nikolaevitch, “that this man,” again he pointed in Stavrogin’s direction, “fired in the air on purpose … intentionally.… This is an insult again.… He wants to make the duel impossible!”
“I have the right to fire as I like so long as I keep the rules,” Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch asserted resolutely.
“No, he hasn’t! Explain it to him! Explain it!” cried Gaganov.
“I’m in complete agreement with Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch,” proclaimed Kirillov.
“Why does he spare me?” Gaganov raged, not hearing him. “I despise his mercy.… I spit on it.… I …”