Two hours later he knocked at Bazarov's door.
"I feel that I must apologise for disturbing you in your pursuits," he said as he seated himself near the window and rested both hands upon a fine ivory-headed cane which he had brought with him (as a rule he did not carry one). "But the fact is that circumstances compel me to request five minutes of your time."
"The whole of my time is at your disposal," replied Bazarov, across whose features, as Paul Petrovitch had crossed the threshold, there had flitted a curious expression.
"No; five minutes will be sufficient. I have come to ask you a simple question."
"And what might that question be?"
"Listen. When first you came to stay in my brother's house, and I had not yet been forced to deny myself the pleasure of conversing with you, it fell to my lot to hear you hold forth on many different subjects. But, unless my memory deceives me, never once did the conversation between you and myself, or in my presence, happen to fall upon the subject of the duel or single combat. Would you, therefore, mind putting yourself out to the extent of giving me the benefit of your views on the subject mentioned?"
Bazarov, who had risen to receive his visitor, now reseated himself upon the edge of the table, and folded his arms upon his breast.
"My views are as follows," he replied. "From the theoretical standpoint, the duel is a sheer absurdity. From the practical standpoint, it is another matter altogether."
"You intend to convey (if I have understood you aright?) that, apart from your theoretical views on the duel, you would not, in practice, allow yourself to be insulted without subsequently demanding satisfaction?"
"You have guessed my meaning precisely."