ashamed," said I, angrily, "of having denounced us to the commandant, after having promised me that you would not do so?" "As God lives, I did not tell it to Ivan Kouzmitch," answered he. "Vassilissa Yegorovna drew it all out of me. She it was who made all arrangements without the commandant's knowledge. However, thank God that all has ended so well." With these words, he returned homewards, and Shvabrine and I remained alone. "The affair cannot end thus," said I to him. "Of course not," answered Shvabrine; "you must answer to me with your blood for your impertinence; but we shall probably be watched. We shall have to dissemble for a few days. Good-bye." And we separated, as if nothing had occurred.
On my return to the commandant's house, I took my seat next to Maria Ivanovna as usual. Ivan Kouzmitch was not at home; Vassilissa Yegorovna was busy with her housekeeping duties. We conversed in an undertone. Maria Ivanovna reproached me tenderly for the anxiety I had caused them all by my quarrel with Shvabrine.
"My heart failed me," said she, "when we were told that you were going to fight with swords. How odd you men are! For a chance word which might most likely be forgotten in a week, you are ready to stab each other and to sacrifice, not only your lives, but also your consciences, and the happiness of those who . . . But I feel sure that the quarrel was not of your seeking—the fault was surely that of Aleksey Ivanovitch."
"And what makes you think so, Maria Ivanovna?"
