Free The Duel by ANTON CHEKHOV Page B

and morality, ordering anyone that falls outside the narrow circle of our conservative morals to be shot, and all this in the name of improving the human race … And what is the human race anyway … An illusion, a mirage … Despots have always been illusionists. I understand him perfectly, brother. I appreciate and do not refute his significance; the world is upheld by those like him, and if the world were left in our hands, then we, for all our kindness and good intentions, would do the very same thing to it as those flies have to that painting. Yes.”
    Laevsky sat close to Samoylenko and aflame with sincerity said:
    “I am an empty, insignificant, fallen man! The air that I breathe is made up of wine, of love, in a word my life up to now has been the purchasing of over-priced nothingness, merriment and cowardice. Up to now I have deceived other people and myself, I have suffered as a result of this, and my sufferings have been cheap and vulgar. I bend over cowering before Von Koren’s hatred because there are times when I hold myself in contempt and hate myself.”
    In his excitement, Laevsky once again crossed the room from one corner to the other and said:
    “I am happy, that I clearly see my shortcomings and own up to them. It will help me to be reborn and to become a different man. My good man, if you only knew how passionately and with what despondence I thirst for my renewal. And I swear to you, that I will become a real man! I will! I don’t know if it’s the wine talking or if it’s just the way things are, but it seems to me that it has been a long time since I have experienced such bright, pure moments as I have here with you.”
    “It’s time for bed, little brother,” Samoylenko said.
    “Yes, yes. Pardon me. I’ll go now.”
    Laevsky began to fumble about near the furniture and the window, in search of his service-cap.
    “Thank you …” he muttered, sighing. “Thank you … for the generosity and the kind words. You have revived me.”
    He located his service-cap, stood still for a moment and looked at Samoylenko guiltily.
    “Alexander Davidich!” he said in a pleading voice.
    “What?”
    “Will you, my good man, permit me to stay here the night?”
    “For goodness sake … you needn’t ask.”
    Though Laevsky lay down on the divan to sleep, his conversation with the doctor continued for a long time.

X
    Three days or so after the picnic, Nadezhda Fyodorovna received an unexpected visit from Maria Konstantinovna, who, without a greeting, without removing her hat, grabbed her by both hands, pressed them to her breast and said in a great state of alarm:
    “My dear, I’m terribly worried, stupefied. Yesterday, our sweet and sympathetic doctor relayed to my husband, Nikodim Aleksandrich, that it seems your husband has met his end. Tell me, my dear … Tell me, is this true?”
    “Yes, it’s true, he’s died,” answered Nadezhda Fyodorovna.
    “This is horrible! Horrible, my dear! But you can’t have the good without the bad. Your husband must certainly have been a delightful, wondrous, godly person, indeed those are needed in heaven more than on earth.”
    All the tiny lines and tiny dots of Maria Konstantinovna’s face were aquiver, as though tiny needles were vibrating beneath her skin. She gave an almond-infused smile and said enthusiastically, panting:
    “And so, you are free, my dear. You can hold your head up high now and boldly look people in the eye. From now on, God and man will bless your union with Ivan Andreich. It’s enchanting. I’m trembling from joy, I can’t find the words. Darling, I shall be your marriage-broker … Nikodim Aleksandrich and I have loved you so much, will you permit us to bless your lawful, pure union. When, when do you think you’ll be married?”
    “I haven’t even thought of it,” Nadezhda Fyodorovna said, freeing her hands.
    “That’s not possible, darling. You’ve thought of it. You’ve thought of it!”
    “For