'No, I tell you...'
'Astonishing!... This is astonishing! Who'd have thought it of a fellow of your intelligence!'
'Come, speak plainly...'
'I have come, Mr. Kister,' said Avdey, slowly rising to his feet, 'I have come to challenge you to a duel. Do you understand now? I want to fight you. Ah! you thought you could get rid of me like that! Why, didn't you know the sort of man you have to do with? As if I'd allow...'
'Very good,' Kister cut in coldly and abruptly. 'I accept your challenge. Kindly send me your second.'
'Yes, yes,' pursued Avdey, who, like a cat, could not bear to let his victim go so soon: 'it'll give me great pleasure I'll own to put a bullet into your fair and idealistic countenance to-morrow.'
'You are abusive after a challenge, it seems,' Kister rejoined contemptuously. 'Be so good as to go. I'm ashamed of you.'
'Oh, to be sure, délicatesse!... Ah, Marya Sergievna, I don't know French!' growled Avdey, as he put on his cap. 'Till we meet again, Fyodor Fedoritch!'
He bowed and walked out.
Kister paced several times up and down the room. His face burned, his breast heaved
