Then he took out his handkerchief and wrapped it around the little finger of his right hand. Only now did they see that Artemy Pavlovich had not quite missed, but the bullet had only grazed the fleshy part of the finger without touching the bone; the scratch was insignificant. Kirillov at once announced that if the adversaries were not satisfied, the duel would continue.
"I declare," Gaganov croaked (his throat was dry), again turning to Mavriky Nikolaevich, "that this man" (he again jabbed in Stavrogin's direction) "fired into the air on purpose... deliberately... Another offense! He wants to make the duel impossible!"
"I have the right to fire any way I want, as long as it is according to the rules," Nikolai Vsevolodovich declared firmly.
"No, he hasn't! Explain to him, explain!" Gaganov cried.
"I subscribe completely to Nikolai Vsevolodovich's opinion," proclaimed Kirillov.
"Why does he spare me?" Gaganov raged, not listening. "I despise his sparing ... I spit on it... I..."
"I give you my word that I had no wish at all to insult you," Nikolai Vsevolodovich said with impatience. "I fired high because I don't want to kill anyone anymore, neither you nor anyone else, it has nothing to do with you personally. It's true that I do not consider myself offended, and I'm sorry that it makes you angry. But I will not allow anyone to interfere with my rights."
"If he's so afraid of blood, then ask him why he challenged me!" Gaganov yelled, still addressing Mavriky Nikolaevich.
"How could he not challenge you?" Kirillov mixed in. "You wouldn't listen to anything, how else could he get rid of you!"
"I will note just one thing," said Mavriky Nikolaevich, who discussed the affair painfully and with effort. "If an adversary announces beforehand that he will fire high, then the duel really cannot continue... for reasons which are delicate and... clear..."
"I have by no means declared that I will fire high every time!" Stavrogin cried out, now losing all patience. "You have no idea what is in my mind or how I am going to fire now ... I am not hindering the duel in any way."
"In that case the match may continue," Mavriky Nikolaevich said to Gaganov.
"Take your places, gentlemen!" Kirillov commanded.
Again they advanced towards each other, again Gaganov missed, and again Stavrogin fired high. There might have been a dispute about his firing high: Nikolai Vsevolodovich might have affirmed directly that he had fired properly, if he himself had not confessed to missing deliberately. He did not aim the pistol directly at the sky or a tree, but still as if at his adversary, though all the same a couple of feet above his hat. The second time he aimed even lower, even more plausibly; but now nothing could reassure Gaganov.
"Again!" he gnashed his teeth. "Never mind! I have been challenged, and I am exercising my right. I want to fire a third time ... at all costs."
"You have every right," Kirillov cut off. Mavriky Nikolaevich said nothing. They were placed for the third time, the command was given; this time Gaganov walked right up to the barrier, and from there, from twelve paces, began taking aim. His hands were trembling too much for a good shot. Stavrogin stood with his pistol lowered and motionlessly waited for him to fire.
"Too long, you're aiming too long!" Kirillov shouted impatiently. "Fire! Fi-i-ire!"
But the shot rang out, and this time the white beaver hat flew off Nikolai Vsevolodovich's head. The shot had been quite well aimed, the crown of the hat was pierced very low down; half an inch lower and all would have been over. Kirillov picked it up and handed it to Nikolai Vsevolodovich.
"Fire, don't keep your adversary waiting!" Mavriky Nikolaevich cried in terrible agitation, seeing that Stavrogin seemed to have forgotten to fire as he examined the hat with Kirillov. Stavrogin gave a start, looked at Gaganov, turned away, and this time without any delicacy fired off into the woods. The duel was over. Gaganov stood as if crushed. Mavriky Nikolaevich went up to him and started to say something, but the man seemed not to understand. Kirillov, as he was leaving, doffed his hat and gave a nod to Mavriky Nikolaevich; but Stavrogin forgot his former politeness; after firing into the woods, he did not even turn towards the barrier, but thrust his pistol at Kirillov and hastily made for the horses. There was spite in his face; he was silent. Kirillov, too, was silent. They mounted their horses and set off at a gallop.
III
'Why are you silent?" he called impatiently to Kirillov, not far from home.
"What do you want?" the latter answered, almost slipping off his horse, which reared up.
Stavrogin restrained himself.
"I didn't mean to offend that... fool, and here I've offended him again," he said softly.
"Yes, offended again," Kirillov cut off, "and, besides, he's not a fool."
"Still, I did all I could."
"No."
"What should I have done?"
"Not challenge him."
"Take another slap in the face?"
"Yes, take a slap."
"I'm beginning not to understand anything!" Stavrogin said spitefully. "Why does everyone expect something of me that they don't expect of others? Why should I take what no one else takes, and invite burdens that no one else can bear?"
"I thought you yourself were seeking a burden?"
"I'm seeking a burden?"
"Yes."
"You... saw that?"
"Yes."
"Is it so noticeable?"
"Yes."
There was a minute's silence. Stavrogin had a very preoccupied look, was almost struck.
"I didn't shoot at him because I didn't want to kill—there was nothing else, I assure you," he said, hastily and anxiously, as if justifying himself.
"You shouldn't have offended him."
"And what should I have done?"
"You should have killed him."
"You're sorry I didn't kill him?"
"I'm not sorry about anything. I thought you really wanted to kill him. You don't know what you're seeking."
"I'm seeking a burden," laughed Stavrogin.
"You didn't want blood, why would you let him kill?"
"If I hadn't challenged him, he'd have killed me anyway, without a duel."
"Not your business. Maybe he wouldn't have.": "And would just have beaten me up?"
"Not your business. Bear the burden. Otherwise there's no merit."
"I spit on your merit, I'm not seeking that from anyone!"
"I thought you were," Kirillov concluded with terrible equanimity.
They rode into the courtyard.
"Want to come in?" Nikolai Vsevolodovich offered.
"No, home. Good-bye." He got off the horse and took his box under his arm.
"You at least are not angry with me?" Stavrogin gave him his hand.
"Not at all!" Kirillov turned back to shake hands with him. "If the burden is light for me because of my nature, then maybe the burden is heavier for you because of your nature. Nothing to be much ashamed of, only a little."
"I know I'm a worthless character, but I'm not trying to get in with the strong ones."
"Don't; you're not a strong man. Come for tea."
Nikolai Vsevolodovich entered the house greatly perturbed.
IV
He learned at once from Alexei Yegorovich that Varvara Petrovna, very pleased with Nikolai Vsevolodovich's going out— the first time after eight days of illness—for a ride on horseback, ordered a carriage to be readied and drove off alone, "after the pattern of former days, to take a breath of fresh air, for in these eight days she has forgotten what it means to breathe fresh air."
"Did she go alone or with Darya Pavlovna?" Nikolai Vsevolodovich interrupted the old man with a quick question, and frowned deeply on hearing that Darya Pavlovna "declined to accompany her, being unwell, and is now in her rooms."