"Once I was young like you, Ryleieff; but that is long past. Once I, too, believed that one only needed to be a good man one's self to make the world better. I, too, had then as young and lovely a betrothed as you now have; I was an officer in the guards, and at twenty had distinguished myself in ten battles. And do you know what happened to me? The evening before my wedding-day, Araktseieff's son, a worthless fellow who did not even know how to buckle on his sword, and who had been made colonel over me, stole away my bride. I challenged him in mortal combat, and the dastardly coward, instead of accepting my challenge, denounced me to the Czar, and I was exiled to the Caucasus. As, with hell in my heart, I was taking my leave of the city, the last thing that met my eyes was the body of a drowned girl brought to me. It was my bride. I kissed her. I still feel the chill of that kiss upon my lips, and I shall feel it until the blood wipes it out, for which I long as keenly as any cannibal. When you are in Czarskoje Zelo look at a certain finely painted battle-piece. Close behind the Czar you will see a youth on a rearing horse, a youth wielding his sword high in air, his face beaming with triumph and loyalty. That youth was I! Years have quenched my enthusiasm; but my sword still swings over his head."
"And so I trust it may remain, ever wielded on high as in the picture."
"But that it will not!" cried Jakuskin, vehemently. "I swear it by the devil they sent into my heart as its constant indweller, I will listen to naught else but my eternal vengeance! You may fill your 'green book' with resolutions—this is my determination!" And as he waved his arm aloft, he extracted a hidden dagger from his coat-sleeve, and displayed its glittering surface to the company.
Horrified, Ryleieff, springing up, drew forth a pistol from a side-pocket and levelled it at Jakuskin's breast.
"And I swear that I will shoot you down on the spot if you venture to assert yourself against our rules."
"Very well, then, shoot me down! Fire away, boy!" growled Jakuskin, tearing open his coat and presenting his bare breast to the mouth of the pistol. "And learn from me how to die."
"Obey the rules, Jakuskin! Take back your word!" shouted several, as they rushed up to pacify the infuriated man.
"I will not withdraw it! You are cowards, all! He shall fire!" he shouted back, roughly pushing them away.
"Gentlemen!" exclaimed Krizsanowski, the Pole, rising.
"Shoot me down!" roared Jakuskin, continuing to wave his dagger.