Part 33 (1/2)
”Doctor, these gentlemen have forgotten, in their hurry, no doubt, to put a bullet in my pistol. I beg you to load it afresh--and properly!”
”Impossible!” cried the captain, ”impossible! I loaded both pistols.
Perhaps the bullet has rolled out of yours... That is not my fault! And you have no right to load again... No right at all. It is altogether against the rules, I shall not allow it”...
”Very well!” I said to the captain. ”If so, then you and I shall fight on the same terms”...
He came to a dead stop.
Grushnitski stood with his head sunk on his breast, embarra.s.sed and gloomy.
”Let them be!” he said at length to the captain, who was going to pull my pistol out of the doctor's hands. ”You know yourself that they are right.”
In vain the captain made various signs to him. Grushnitski would not even look.
Meanwhile the doctor had loaded the pistol and handed it to me. On seeing that, the captain spat and stamped his foot.
”You are a fool, then, my friend,” he said: ”a common fool!... You trusted to me before, so you should obey me in everything now... But serve you right! Die like a fly!”...
He turned away, muttering as he went:
”But all the same it is absolutely against the rules.”
”Grushnitski!” I said. ”There is still time: recant your slander, and I will forgive you everything. You have not succeeded in making a fool of me; my self-esteem is satisfied. Remember--we were once friends”...
His face flamed, his eyes flashed.
”Fire!” he answered. ”I despise myself and I hate you. If you do not kill me I will lie in wait for you some night and cut your throat. There is not room on the earth for both of us”...
I fired.
When the smoke had cleared away, Grushnitski was not to be seen on the ledge. Only a slender column of dust was still eddying at the edge of the precipice.
There was a simultaneous cry from the rest.
”Finita la commedia!” I said to the doctor.
He made no answer, and turned away with horror.
I shrugged my shoulders and bowed to Grushnitski's seconds.
CHAPTER XXI
AS I descended by the path, I observed Grushnitski's bloodstained corpse between the clefts of the rocks. Involuntarily, I closed my eyes.
Untying my horse, I set off home at a walking pace. A stone lay upon my heart. To my eyes the sun seemed dim, its beams were powerless to warm me.
I did not ride up to the village, but turned to the right, along the gorge. The sight of a man would have been painful to me: I wanted to be alone. Throwing down the bridle and letting my head fall on my breast, I rode for a long time, and at length found myself in a spot with which I was wholly unfamiliar. I turned my horse back and began to search for the road. The sun had already set by the time I had ridden up to Kislovodsk--myself and my horse both utterly spent!
My servant told me that Werner had called, and he handed me two notes: one from Werner, the other... from Vera.