“I know!  I’ll kill myself and him,” he thought, “but I’ll leave her alive.  Let her pine away from the stings of conscience and the contempt of all surrounding her.  For a sensitive nature like hers that will be far more agonizing than death.”

And he imagined his own funeral:  he, the injured husband, lies in his coffin with a gentle smile on his lips, and she, pale, tortured by remorse, follows the coffin like a Niobe, not knowing where to hide herself to escape from the withering, contemptuous looks cast upon her by the indignant crowd.

“I see, M’sieu, that you like the Smith and Wesson make,” the shopman broke in upon his broodings.  “If you think it too dear, very well, I’ll knock off five roubles. . . .  But we have other makes, cheaper.”

The little Frenchified figure turned gracefully and took down another dozen cases of revolvers from the shelf.

“Here, M’sieu, price thirty roubles.  That’s not expensive, especially as the rate of exchange has dropped terribly and the Customs duties are rising every hour.  M’sieu, I vow I am a Conservative, but even I am beginning to murmur.  Why, with the rate of exchange and the Customs tariff, only the rich can purchase firearms.  There’s nothing left for the poor but Tula weapons and phosphorus matches, and Tula weapons are a misery!  You may aim at your wife with a Tula revolver and shoot yourself through the shoulder-blade.”

Sigaev suddenly felt mortified and sorry that he would be dead, and would miss seeing the agonies of the traitress.  Revenge is only sweet when one can see and taste its fruits, and what sense would there be in it if he were lying in his coffin, knowing nothing about it?

“Hadn’t I better do this?” he pondered.  “I’ll kill him, then I’ll go to his funeral and look on, and after the funeral I’ll kill myself.  They’d arrest me, though, before the funeral, and take away my pistol. . . .  And so I’ll kill him, she shall remain alive, and I . . . for the time, I’ll not kill myself, but go and be arrested.  I shall always have time to kill myself.  There will be this advantage about being arrested, that at the preliminary investigation I shall have an opportunity of exposing to the authorities and to the public all the infamy of her conduct.  If I kill myself she may, with her characteristic duplicity and impudence, throw all the blame on me, and society will justify her behaviour and will very likely laugh at me. . . .  If I remain alive, then . . .”

A minute later he was thinking: 

“Yes, if I kill myself I may be blamed and suspected of petty feeling. . . .  Besides, why should I kill myself?  That’s one thing.  And for another, to shoot oneself is cowardly.  And so I’ll kill him and let her live, and I’ll face my trial.  I shall be tried, and she will be brought into court as a witness. . . .  I can imagine her confusion, her disgrace when she is examined by my counsel!  The sympathies of the court, of the Press, and of the public will certainly be with me.”