"I want to hear your views on the subject of duelling," he said. Bazaroff, for once, was taken by surprise.
"My view is," he said at last, "that I should not, in practice, allow myself to be insulted without demanding satisfaction."
"Your words save me from rather a deplorable necessity. I have made up my mind to fight you."
Bazaroff opened his eyes wide. "Me?"
"Undoubtedly."
"What for, pray?"
"I cannot endure you; to my idea your presence here is superfluous, I despise you; and if that is not enough for you..."
Pavel Petrovitch's eyes glittered.... Bazaroff's, too, were flashing.
"Very good," he assented; "no need of further explanations. You've a whim to try your chivalrous spirit upon me. I might refuse you this pleasure, but--so be it!"
The details of the duel were arranged there and then, eight paces and two shots each. The following morning they met at the place agreed upon, and, having marked off the ground, they took up their stations. Bazaroff watched Pavel Petrovitch take careful aim.... "He's aiming straight at my nerves," he thought; "and doesn't he blink down it carefully, the ruffian! Not an agreeable sensation, though! I'm going to look at his watch-chain."