"In other words, and speaking without metaphor, to that cane?" said Bazarov in a tone of supreme indifference.
"Well, that is fair enough. Further insults are not needed—nor would you have found the offering of them altogether free from danger. Pray, therefore, remain a gentleman. It is as one that I accept your challenge."
"Good!" replied Paul Petrovitch; and he laid aside his cane. "Next, a few words on the subject of the conditions of our duel. First, pray be so good as to inform me whether or not you deem it necessary to resort to the formality of some such small difference of opinion as might serve as an ostensible excuse for my challenge?"
"I think that unnecessary. Such things are best done without formalities of any kind."
"I agree—that is to say, I, like you, consider that to go into the true reasons for our antagonism would be inexpedient. Let us therefore allege to the world that we could not abide one another. What need would there be to say more?"
"What indeed?" echoed Bazarov in a tone decidedly ironical.
"Also, with regard to the actual conditions of the duel. Inasmuch as we have no seconds—for where could we find them?——"
"Quite so. Where indeed?"
"I have the honour to propose to you the following. Let us fight to-morrow morning—say, at six o'clock: the rendezvous to be behind the copse, the weapons to be pistols, and the distance ten paces."
"Ten paces. Quite so! You and I abhor each other even at ten paces."