have just told me.... I'm a man of honour, Vassily Ivanovitch, a nobleman.'
'You're a nobleman, you're a man of honour, so you'll be so good as to fight with me.'
'Vassily Ivanovitch!'
'You are frightened, I think, Mr. Rogatchov.'
'I'm not in the least frightened, Vassily Ivanovitch. You thought you would frighten me, Vassily Ivanovitch. I'll scare him, you thought, he's a coward, and he'll agree to anything directly... No, Vassily Ivanovitch, I am a nobleman as much as you are, though I've not had city breeding, and you won't succeed in frightening me into anything, excuse me.'
'Very good,' retorted Vassily; 'where is your sword then?'
'Eroshka!' shouted Pavel Afanasievitch. A servant came in.
'Get me the sword—there—you know, in the loft... make haste....'
Eroshka went out. Pavel Afanasievitch suddenly became exceedingly pale, hurriedly took off his dressing-gown, put on a reddish coat with big paste buttons... twisted a cravat round his neck... Vassily looked at him, and twiddled the fingers of his right hand.
'Well, are we to fight then, Pavel Afanasievitch?'
'Let's fight, if we must fight,' replied Rogatchov, and hurriedly buttoned up his shirt.
