Marya Ivanovna attracted me more than ever. The thought that I might be seeing her for the last time, made her seem particularly touching to me. Shvabrin was there also. I took him aside and told him of my conversation with Ivan Ignatyich.

“What do we want with seconds?” he said to me, dryly. “We will do without them.”

We arranged to fight behind the corn stacks near the fortress and to meet there the following morning between six and seven. We appeared to be talking so amicably that Ivan Ignatyich, delighted, let out the secret.

“That’s right!” he said to me, looking pleased; “a bad peace is better than a good quarrel; a damaged name is better than a damaged skin.”

“What’s this, what’s this, Ivan Ignatyich?” asked Vasilisa Yegorovna, who was telling fortunes by cards in the corner. “I wasn’t listening.”

Ivan Ignatyich, seeing my look of annoyance and recalling his promise, was confused and did not know what to say. Shvabrin hastened to his assistance.

“Ivan Ignatyich approves of our making peace,” he said.

“But with whom had you quarreled, my dear?”

“I had rather a serious quarrel with Pyotr Andreyich.”

“What about?”

“About the merest trifle, Vasilisa Yegorovna: a song.”

“That’s a queer thing to quarrel about! A song! But how did it happen?”

“Why, this is how it was. Not long ago Pyotr Andreyich composed a song and today he began singing it in my presence, and I struck up my favorite:

‘Captain’s daughter, I warn you,

Don’t you go for midnight walks.’

“There was discord. Pyotr Andreyich was angry at first, but then he thought better of it, and decided that everyone may sing what he likes. And that was the end of it.”

Shvabrin’s impudence very nearly incensed me, but no one except me understood his coarse hints, or, at any rate, no one took any notice of them. From songs the conversation turned to poets; the Commandant remarked that they were a bad lot and bitter drunkards, and advised me, as a friend, to give up writing verses, for such an occupation did not accord with military duties and brought one to no good.

Shvabrin’s presence was unendurable to me. I soon said good-bye to the Captain and his family. When I came home I examined my sword, felt the point of it, and went to bed, telling Savelyich to wake me at six o’clock.

The following morning I stood behind the corn stacks at the appointed hour waiting for my opponent. He arrived soon after me.

“We may be disturbed,” he said. “We had better be quick.”

We took off our uniforms and, dressed in our waistcoats only, bared our swords. At that moment Ivan Ignatyich with five soldiers of the garrison suddenly appeared from behind the stacks. He requested us to go to the Commandant’s. We obeyed, vexed as we were; the soldiers surrounded us and we followed Ivan Ignatyich, who led us in triumph, stepping along with an air of extraordinary importance.

We entered the Commandant’s house. Ivan Ignatyich opened the doors and solemnly proclaimed: “I have brought them!”

We were met by Vasilisa Yegorovna.

“Goodness me! What ever next? What? How could you? Planning murder in our fortress! Ivan Kuzmich, put them under arrest at once! Pyotr Andreyich, Alexey Ivanych! Give me your swords, give them up, give them up! Palasha, take these swords to the pantry! I did not expect this of you, Pyotr Andreyich; aren’t you ashamed of yourself? It is all very well for Alexey Ivanych—he has been dismissed from the Guards for killing a man, and he does not believe in God, but fancy you doing a thing like this! Do you want to be like him?”

Ivan Kuzmich fully agreed with his wife, and kept repeating: “Vasilisa Yegorovna is quite right; let me tell you duels are explicitly forbidden in the army regulations.”

Meanwhile Palasha took our swords and carried them to the pantry. I could not help laughing; Shvabrin retained his dignity.

“With all respect for you,” he said coolly, “I must observe that you give yourself unnecessary trouble in passing judgment upon us. Leave it to Ivan Kuzmich—it is his business.”

“But, my dear sir, aren’t husband and wife one flesh and one spirit?” the Commandant’s lady retorted. “Ivan Kuzmich, what are you thinking of? Put them under arrest at once in different corners and give them nothing but bread and water till they come to their senses! And let Father Gerasim set them a penance that they may beg God to forgive them and confess their sin to the people.”

Ivan Kuzmich did not know what to do. Marya Ivanovna was extremely pale. Little by little the storm subsided; Vasilisa Yegorovna calmed down and made us kiss each other. Palasha brought us back our swords. We left the Commandant’s house, apparently reconciled. Ivan Ignatyich accompanied us.

“Aren’t you ashamed,” I said to him angrily, “to have betrayed us to the Commandant when you promised me not to?”

“God is my witness, I never said anything to Ivan Kuzmich,” he answered; “Vasilisa Yegorovna wormed it all out of me. And she made all the arrangements without saying a word to Ivan Kuzmich…. But thank Heaven that it has all ended in this way.”

With these words he turned home and Shvabrin and I were left alone.

“We cannot let it end at that,” I said to him.

“Of course not,” Shvabrin answered; “you will answer me with your blood for your insolence, but I expect we shall be watched.