"I will. Nevertheless you will agree that our duel is singular, even to the point of absurdity? For pray observe the countenance of our second!"
"It is still your pleasure to jest," Paul Petrovitch responded coldly. "Of the singularity of our contest I make no denial. I merely consider it my duty to warn you that I intend to right you in grim earnest. So, à bon entendeur, salut!"
"Yet, even though we intend to exterminate one another, why should we not enjoy our jest, and thus combine utile with dulce? You have spoken to me in French. I reply in Latin."
"I repeat that I intend to fight you in grim earnest," said Paul Petrovitch; with which he moved to his place, and Bazarov, after counting ten paces from his mark, turned, and halted.
"Are you ready?" inquired Paul Petrovitch.
"I am."
"Then engage."
Bazarov started to advance, and Paul Petrovitch did the same, with his left hand thrust into his coat pocket, and his right gradually elevating the muzzle of his pistol.
"The fellow is aiming straight for my nose," thought Bazarov to himself. "And how the rascal is screwing up his eyes as he marches! This is not a wholly pleasing sensation. I had better keep my eyes fixed upon his watch-chain."
Past Bazarov's ear something suddenly whistled, while almost at the same moment there came the sound of a report.