Laughing and chatting, the young people accordingly turned aside into a more shady, quieter avenue. As they reached the end of it and were about to turn, Sarudine, Tanaroff and Volochine suddenly came round the corner. Sanine saw at once that Sarudine had not expected to meet him here, and that he was considerably disconcerted. His handsome face grew dark, and he drew himself up to his full height. Tanaroff laughed contemptuously.
“That little jackanapes is still here,” said Ivanoff, as he stared at Volochine. The latter had not noticed them, being so much interested in Sina, who walked first, that he turned round in passing to look at her.
“So he is!” said Sanine, laughing.
Sarudine thought that this laughter was meant for him, and he winced, as if struck by a whip. Flushed with anger, and impelled as by some irresistible force, he left his companions, and rapidly approached Sanine.
“What is it?” said the latter, suddenly becoming serious, while his eyes were fixed on the little riding-whip in Sarudine’s trembling hand.
“You fool!” he thought to himself, as much in pity as in anger.
“I should like a word with you,” began Sarudine, hoarsely. “Did you receive my challenge?”
“Yes,” replied Sanine, intently watching every movement of the officer’s hands.
“And you have decided to refuse … er … to act as any decent man is bound to act under the circumstances?” asked Sarudine. His voice was muffled, though loud in tone. To himself it seemed a strange one, as uncanny as the cold handle of the whip in his moist fingers. But he had not the strength to turn aside from the path that lay before him. Suddenly in the garden there seemed to be no air whatever. All the others stood still, perplexed, and expectant.
“Oh! what the deuce—” began Ivanoff, endeavouring to interpose.