"My brother and I divided our heritage between us. He got the Rochow business and paid me out in cash that I might set up for myself elsewhere. I heard that the executioner of Hétfalu was getting sick of his office, for of course he is not growing younger, is he? Come, now! you silly little thing, you must not be angry with me for saying that! You know very well that your husband is an old man, and there are lots of old men who have pretty young wives. There is no great harm in that. I only asked you whether he was old, because in that case he would be more likely to seek for repose."
"Yes, young sir, my husband loathes the business with all his soul."
"But there's a great deal of fun in it too, if only you look at it properly. I have often gone to Lemberg togged up like a swell, with a fine jewelled pin in my scarf, a gold chain and a little whalebone stick in my hand. I have turned the heads of two or three fine ladies and insinuated myself into the best society—and what a joke it was when they found out who I really was. How pale they all went, and how their hair stood on end. Ha, ha, ha!"
"But didn't they make you pay for it afterwards?"
"Well, once I was called out by a young cadet. Officers of higher rank thought it beneath their dignity to fight with me, the utmost they did was to pitch me out of the window. The lad who challenged me was a Hungarian, and I promised to appear at the rendezvous. I am afraid, however, that he waited for me a very long time. I like to shed blood, but only when I run no risk myself."
All three laughed heartily at this witticism.
"But listen to the sequel of my story. My father has an amiable whim of his own—he always prefers to have deserters from the army as his assistants. He is well aware that men of that kidney have practically renounced the world. Now who do you think rushed into his house one evening all ragged and travel-stained? Why the very soldier-youngster who had wanted to fight a duel with me! To avenge his sweetheart he had shot his captain and had to make a bolt of it."
The woman and Ivan involuntarily looked at each other with terror.
"You may imagine how I laughed the poor youth out of countenance when I recognised him. Every time I met him I used to say to him: 'Well, what do you say to our fighting our duel now?' He could not stand such heckling long. On the third day he skedaddled, and I don't know what became of the poor fellow. I have little doubt, however, that since then he has been shot dead."
"If they have not done it yet it won't be very long before they do," observed Ivan.