Eróshka entered and hurriedly handed Rogatchyóff a wretched little old sword, in a cracked, leather scabbard. At that time all nobles wore swords when they had powdered hair; but the nobles of the steppes only powdered their hair a couple of times a year. Eróshka retreated to the door, and fell to weeping. Pável Afanásievitch thrust him out of the room.
"But, Vasíly Ivánovitch,"—he remarked, with some agitation,—"I cannot fight with you instantly: permit me to defer our duel until to-morrow; my father is not at home; and it would not be a bad thing to put my affairs in order, in case of a catastrophe."
"I see that you are beginning to quail again, my dear sir."
"No, no, Vasíly Ivánovitch; but judge for yourself...."
"Listen!"... shouted Lutchínoff:—"you are driving me out of patience.... Either give me your word to marry immediately, or fight .... or I will trounce you with a cudgel, like a coward, do you understand?"
"Let us go into the park,"—replied Rogatchyóff between his teeth.
But suddenly the door opened, and the old nurse Efímovna, all dishevelled, forced her way into the room, fell on her knees before Rogatchyóff and clasped his feet....
"My dear little father!"—she wailed:—"my child .... what is this thou art projecting? Do not ruin us miserable ones, dear little father! For he will kill thee, my dear little dove! But only give us the command, give us the command, and we 'll kill that insolent fellow with our caps.... Pável Afanásievitch, my darling child, have the fear of God before thine eyes!"
A multitude of pale and agitated faces showed themselves in the doorway .... the red beard of the Elder even made its appearance....
"Let me go, Efímovna, let me go!"—muttered Rogatchyóff.