In vain the captain made various signs to him. Grushnitski would not even look.
Meanwhile the doctor had loaded the pistol and handed it to me. On seeing that, the captain spat and stamped his foot.
“You are a fool, then, my friend,” he said: “a common fool!... You trusted to me before, so you should obey me in everything now... But serve you right! Die like a fly!”...
He turned away, muttering as he went:
“But all the same it is absolutely against the rules.”
“Grushnitski!” I said. “There is still time: recant your slander, and I will forgive you everything. You have not succeeded in making a fool of me; my self-esteem is satisfied. Remember—we were once friends”...
His face flamed, his eyes flashed.
“Fire!” he answered. “I despise myself and I hate you. If you do not kill me I will lie in wait for you some night and cut your throat. There is not room on the earth for both of us”...
I fired.
When the smoke had cleared away, Grushnitski was not to be seen on the ledge. Only a slender column of dust was still eddying at the edge of the precipice.