Part 66 (1/2)
”If you are inclined, let us try,” said Lorand.
”With pleasure, only you must do it first.”
”I shall do so, but you will not follow me.”
”If you do it, I shall too. But I think you will not do it before me.”
One idea flashed clearly before me and chilled my whole body. I saw all: I understood all now: the mystery of ten years was no longer a secret to me: I saw the refugee, I saw the pursuer, and I had both in my hand, in such an iron grip, as if G.o.d had lent me for the moment the hand of an archangel.
You just talk away.
Lorand's face was a feverish red.
”Well, well, you scamp! Let us bet, if you like.”
”What?”
”Twenty bottles of champagne, which we shall drink too.”
”I accept the wager.”
”Whoever withdraws from the jest loses the bet.”
”Here's the money!”
Both took their purses and placed each a hundred florins on the table.
I too produced my purse and took a crumpled paper out of it:--but it was no banknote.
Lorand cried to the waiter.
”Take my pistols out of my trunk.”
The waiter placed both before him.
”Are they really loaded?” inquired Gyali.
”Look into the barrels, where the steel head of the bullets are smiling at you.”
Gyali found it wiser to believe than to look into the pistol barrels.
”Well, the bet stands; whichever of us cannot drink out his portion pays for the champagne.”
Lorand seized his gla.s.s to pour the red wine that was in it into the pistol-barrel.
The whole company was silent: some agonized restraint ruled their intoxicated nerves: every eye was rested on Lorand as if they wished to check the mad jest before its completion. On Topandy's forehead heavy beads of sweat glistened.
I quietly placed my hand on Lorand's, in which he held the weapon and amid profound silence asked:
”Would it not be good to draw lots to see who shall do it first?”