would readily yield this privilege to his honoured colleague. Pantaleone, who had already succeeded in obliterating himself behind a bush, so as not to see the offending officer at all, at first made out nothing at all of Herr von Richter's speech, especially, as it had been delivered through the nose, but all of a sudden he started, stepped hurriedly forward, and convulsively thumping at his chest, in a hoarse voice wailed out in his mixed jargon: 'A la la la . . . Che bestialita! Deux zeun ommes comme ça que si battono—perche? Che diavolo? Andata a casa!'
'I will not consent to a reconciliation,' Sanin intervened hurriedly.
'And I too will not,' his opponent repeated after him.
'Well, then shout one, two, three!' von Richter said, addressing the distracted Pantaleone.
The latter promptly ducked behind the bush again, and from there, all huddled together, his eyes screwed up, and his head turned away, he shouted at the top of his voice: 'Una . . . due . . . tre!'
The first shot was Sanin's, and he missed. His bullet went ping against a tree. Baron von Dönhof shot directly after him—intentionally, to one side, into the air.
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