“Yes, we know that too,” said Boyko.

“Well, you see, then . . .  Laevsky’s hands are trembling and all that sort of thing . . . he can scarcely hold a pistol now.  To fight with him is as inhuman as to fight a man who is drunk or who has typhoid.  If a reconciliation cannot be arranged, we ought to put off the duel, gentlemen, or something. . . .  It’s such a sickening business, I can’t bear to see it.

“Talk to Von Koren.”

“I don’t know the rules of duelling, damnation take them, and I don’t want to either; perhaps he’ll imagine Laevsky funks it and has sent me to him, but he can think what he likes—­I’ll speak to him.”

Sheshkovsky hesitatingly walked up to Von Koren with a slight limp, as though his leg had gone to sleep; and as he went towards him, clearing his throat, his whole figure was a picture of indolence.

“There’s something I must say to you, sir,” he began, carefully scrutinising the flowers on the zoologist’s shirt.  “It’s confidential.  I don’t know the rules of duelling, damnation take them, and I don’t want to, and I look on the matter not as a second and that sort of thing, but as a man, and that’s all about it.”

“Yes.  Well?”

“When seconds suggest reconciliation they are usually not listened to; it is looked upon as a formality. Amour propre and all that.  But I humbly beg you to look carefully at Ivan Andreitch.  He’s not in a normal state, so to speak, to-day—­not in his right mind, and a pitiable object.  He has had a misfortune.  I can’t endure gossip. . . .”

Sheshkovsky flushed crimson and looked round.

“But in view of the duel, I think it necessary to inform you, Laevsky found his madam last night at Muridov’s with . . . another gentleman.”

“How disgusting!” muttered the zoologist; he turned pale, frowned, and spat loudly.  “Tfoo!”

His lower lip quivered, he walked away from Sheshkovsky, unwilling to hear more, and as though he had accidentally tasted something bitter, spat loudly again, and for the first time that morning looked with hatred at Laevsky.  His excitement and awkwardness passed off; he tossed his head and said aloud: 

“Gentlemen, what are we waiting for, I should like to know?  Why don’t we begin?”

Sheshkovsky glanced at the officers and shrugged his shoulders.

“Gentlemen,” he said aloud, addressing no one in particular.  “Gentlemen, we propose that you should be reconciled.”

“Let us make haste and get the formalities over,” said Von Koren.  “Reconciliation has been discussed already.  What is the next formality?  Make haste, gentlemen, time won’t wait for us.”