He turned white to the lips, his eyes started, the perspiration stood out in beads on his forehead; he liked death as little as most men.
“Will you die or live, monsieur?” I asked pleasantly.
He cursed me and he cursed Maluta, but his lips shook.
“You prefer to die?” I asked, still politely.
“Nay,” he replied, between his teeth, “I will not die.”
And, with a sudden leap, he threw Maluta off and flung himself upon me, seizing my right wrist, and wrenching it backward in his effort to get my pistol. His onslaught, quick as a tiger’s spring, bore me toward the wall and my foot slipped; for a moment I thought that I had lost and he had won, and then we clenched and rolled over on the floor, he struggling to turn my pistol away and I, to use it—to his death. In brute strength he was a match for me, but he had not my training as a wrestler, a sport that I had loved as a boy, and twice I had him under, and twice he struggled half-way to his knees. His eyes were wild, his breath burned hot on my cheek, and his bare hands tore at me with the strength of fury. Back and forth I twisted that wrist and he held it like a vise, and I could not use my pistol. Then, I got him down and my knee on his breast, though he still gripped my right arm and cursed me, but I tore my left hand free, at last, and changing the pistol from right to left, I dealt him a blow on the head that stretched him senseless. And, as I did it, Maluta came creeping up, holding his own temple, for the boyar had flung him against the wall and the monkey-like face was drawn and shrivelled, but he was ripe for vengeance, watching me for his instructions, and I knew by his look that he would gladly kill his erstwhile master, but I had no such design.
“Strip off his long robe, Maluta,” I said briefly.
A look of blank amazement crossed the dwarf’s face, but he obeyed me with his usual alacrity, and I helped him unfasten Kurakin’s belt and remove his long brocaded gown—a marvellously fine affair too—for his wedding, doubtless! His high cap had fallen in the struggle and lay in the corner.
“His shoes also,” I said to Maluta.
The dwarf jerked them off with vicious haste, watching me with his sidelong glance, his head down.