He was not mistaken. Nikolai Vsevolodovich had already taken off his warm scarf with his left hand, to tie his captive's arms, but suddenly, for some reason, abandoned him and pushed him away. The man jumped to his feet at once, turned around, and a short, broad cobbler's knife, which instantly appeared from somewhere, flashed in his hand.
"Away with the knife, put it away, now!" Nikolai Vsevolodovich ordered,with an impatient gesture, and the knife vanished as instantly as it had appeared.
Nikolai Vsevolodovich went on his way again, silently and without turning around; but the stubborn scoundrel still did not leave him alone, though, true, he no longer jabbered, and even respectfully observed a distance of one full step behind. Thus they crossed the bridge and came out on the bank, turning left this time into another long and obscure back lane, which was a shorter way to the center of town than the previous way down Bogoyavlensky Street.
"Is it true what they say, that you robbed a church the other day, somewhere here in the district?" Nikolai Vsevolodovich suddenly asked.
"Well, I mean, as a matter of fact, I stopped in firstly to pray, sir," the tramp answered sedately and deferentially, as if nothing had happened; not even sedately, but almost dignifiedly. There was no trace of the former "friendly" familiarity. One glimpsed a practical and serious man, who, though unjustly offended, was capable of forgetting offenses.
"Then, once the Lord had brought me there," he went on, "I thought, ah, what a heavenly blessing! It's owing to my being an orphan that this thing has happened, because in my destiny it's quite impossible without assistance. And then, by God, sir, it was my loss, the Lord punished me for my sins: all I got for the swinger and the swatter and the deacon's girth was twelve roubles. Nicholas the Wonder-worker's pure silver getup went for nothing: they said it was similor." [103]
"You killed the beadle?"
"I mean, we bagged it together, me and that beadle; it was only towards morning, by the river, we got to quarreling mutually, who should carry the sack. I sinned, I lightened his load for him."
"Kill more, steal more."
"That's the same thing Pyotr Stepanovich advises me, sir, word for word just what you say, because he's an extremely stingy and hardhearted man when it comes to assistance, sir. Besides from the fact that he doesn't have even a straw of belief in the heavenly creator who made us out of earthly dust, sir, but says nature alone arranged it all, supposedly even to the last beast, and what's more he doesn't understand that in my destiny it's quite impossible to do entirely without beneficent assistance, sir. I start explaining it to him, and he stares like a sheep at water, you can only wonder at him. Now, would you believe it, sir, with this Captain Lebyadkin, where you just visited, if you please, sir, when he was still living at Filippov's before you, sir, his door sometimes stood wide open all night, sir, he himself lying dead drunk and money spilling out of all his pockets onto the floor. I happened to observe it with my own eyes, because the way my life is, it's quite impossible without assistance, sir..."
"How, with your own eyes? Did you go in there at night, or what?"
"Maybe I did, only nobody knows."
"Why didn't you put a knife in him?"
"After making a reckoning, I steadied myself, sir. Because once I knew for sure that I could take out about a hundred and fifty roubles anytime, then how should I venture into such a thing when I can take out the whole fifteen hundred, provided I just wait a bit? Since Captain Lebyadkin (I heard it with my own ears, sir) always had gr-r-reat hopes of you in his drunken state, sir, and there's no such tavern establishment around here, not even the lowest pot-house, where he wouldn't announce as much, being in that same state, sir. So that, hearing about it from many lips, I, too, began to place all my hopes in Your Excellency. I'm telling it to you, sir, as I would to my own father or brother, because Pyotr Stepanovich will never find it out from me, and neither will a single soul else. So then, how about three little roubles, Your Excellency, would you be so kind, sir, or not? You'd unbind me, sir, so that I'd know the real truth, I mean, because it's quite impossible for me without assistance, sir."
Nikolai Vsevolodovich guffawed loudly, and taking from his pocket a wallet that contained as much as fifty roubles in small bills, he pulled one out of the wad for him, then another, a third, a fourth. Fedka caught them in the air, rushed about, the bills rained down into the mud, Fedka caught at them with little cries: "Ah, ah!" Nikolai Vsevolodovich finally threw the whole wad at him, and, still guffawing, set off down the lane, this time alone. The tramp stayed behind, fussing on his knees in the mud, picking up the bills that had scattered on the wind or sunk in puddles, and for a whole hour one could hear his abrupt little cries from the darkness: "Ah, ah!"
3: The Duel
1
The next day, at two o'clock in the afternoon, the proposed duel took place. [104]The speedy outcome of the affair was furthered by Artemy Pavlovich Gaganov's indomitable desire to fight at all costs. He did not understand his adversary's conduct, and was furious. For a whole month he had been insulting him with impunity, and was still unable to make him lose patience. He needed a challenge from Nikolai Vsevolodovich, because he had no direct pretext for a challenge himself. And for some reason he was embarrassed to admit his secret motive—that is, simply a morbid hatred of Stavrogin for the family insult of four years ago. And he himself considered this pretext impossible, especially in view of the humble apologies already twice offered by Nikolai Vsevolodovich. Inwardly he set Stavrogin down as a shameless coward; he simply could not understand how he could suffer a slap from Shatov; and thus he finally resolved to send that letter, remarkable in its rudeness, which finally prompted Nikolai Vsevolodovich to suggest a meeting himself. Having sent this letter the day before, and awaiting the challenge with feverish impatience, morbidly reckoning up his chances for it, now hopeful, now despairing, he provided himself, just in case, on the previous evening, with a second—namely, Mavriky Nikolaevich Drozdov, his friend from school days and a man he particularly respected. So it was that when Kirillov came with his errand the next day at nine o'clock in the morning, he found the ground quite prepared. All the apologies and unheard-of concessions of Nikolai Vsevolodovich were rejected at once, from the first word, and with remarkable vehemence. Mavriky Nikolaevich, who had learned only the day before of the course the affair had taken, gaped in astonishment at such unheard-of offers, and wanted to insist at once on a reconciliation, but noticing that Artemy Pavlovich, who guessed his intentions, almost started shaking in his chair, he kept silent and said nothing. Had it not been for the word he had given his friend, he would have walked out immediately; he stayed solely in hopes of helping at least with something in the outcome of the affair. Kirillov conveyed the challenge; all the conditions stipulated for the meeting by Stavrogin were accepted at once, literally, without the least objection. Only one addition was made, albeit a very cruel one—namely, that if nothing decisive occurred at the first shots, they would begin over again; if it ended with nothing the second time, they would begin a third time. Kirillov frowned, bargained a little about the third time, but, having bargained unsuccessfully, agreed, on condition, however, that "three times was possible, but four absolutely not." This they conceded. And so, at two o'clock in the afternoon, the meeting took place at Brykovo, that is, a little woods outside town, between Skvoreshniki on one side and the Shpigulins' factory on the other. Yesterday's rain had stopped entirely, but it was wet, damp, and windy. Low, dull, broken clouds raced quickly across the cold sky; the trees rustled densely and rollingly at their tops, and creaked on their roots; the morning was very melancholy.