“Permit me to remark to you, my dear sir,”—he began,—“that by this course you may drag M-lle Véretyeff into unpleasantness, and I assume....”
“That would be extremely unpleasant to me, but no one can prevent your declining, declaring that you are ill, or going away....”
“I shall not do it. For whom do you take me?”
“In that case, I shall be compelled to demand satisfaction from you.”
“In what sense do you mean ... satisfaction?”
“The sense is evident.”
“You will challenge me to a duel?”
“Precisely so, sir, if you do not renounce the mazurka.”
Steltchínsky endeavoured to utter these words as negligently as possible. Vladímir Sergyéitch’s heart set to beating violently. He looked his wholly unexpected antagonist in the face. “Phew, O Lord, what stupidity!” he thought.
“You are not jesting?”—he articulated aloud.