Though he was a slender young fellow, almost like a girl, still he was all ready for a quarrel. His eyes flash fire; he looks as if he could eat him alive. The big guest was a strong, tremendous fellow, no match for Nekhliudof.
"Wha-at!" says he, "you call me a boor?" Yelling out these words, he raises his hand to strike him.
Then everybody there rushed up, and seized them both by the arms, and separated them.
After much talk, Nekhliudof says, "Let him give me satisfaction: he has insulted me."
"Not at all," said the other. "I don't care a whit about any satisfaction. He's nothing but a boy, a mere nothing. I'll pull his ears for him."
"If you aren't willing to give me satisfaction, then you are no gentleman."
And, saying this, he almost cried.
"Well, and you, you are a little boy: nothing you say or do can offend me."
Well, we separated them,—led them off, as the custom is, to different rooms. Nekhliudof and the prince were friends.
"Go," says the former; "for God's sake make him listen to reason."