“But we insist on reconciliation all the same,” said Sheshkovsky in a guilty voice, as a man compelled to interfere in another man’s business; he flushed, laid his hand on his heart, and went on:  “Gentlemen, we see no grounds for associating the offence with the duel.  There’s nothing in common between duelling and offences against one another of which we are sometimes guilty through human weakness.  You are university men and men of culture, and no doubt you see in the duel nothing but a foolish and out-of-date formality, and all that sort of thing.  That’s how we look at it ourselves, or we shouldn’t have come, for we cannot allow that in our presence men should fire at one another, and all that.”  Sheshkovsky wiped the perspiration off his face and went on:  “Make an end to your misunderstanding, gentlemen; shake hands, and let us go home and drink to peace.  Upon my honour, gentlemen!”

Von Koren did not speak.  Laevsky, seeing that they were looking at him, said: 

“I have nothing against Nikolay Vassilitch; if he considers I’m to blame, I’m ready to apologise to him.”

Von Koren was offended.

“It is evident, gentlemen,” he said, “you want Mr. Laevsky to return home a magnanimous and chivalrous figure, but I cannot give you and him that satisfaction.  And there was no need to get up early and drive eight miles out of town simply to drink to peace, to have breakfast, and to explain to me that the duel is an out-of-date formality.  A duel is a duel, and there is no need to make it more false and stupid than it is in reality.  I want to fight!”

A silence followed.  Boyko took a pair of pistols out of a box; one was given to Von Koren and one to Laevsky, and then there followed a difficulty which afforded a brief amusement to the zoologist and the seconds.  It appeared that of all the people present not one had ever in his life been at a duel, and no one knew precisely how they ought to stand, and what the seconds ought to say and do.  But then Boyko remembered and began, with a smile, to explain.

“Gentlemen, who remembers the description in Lermontov?” asked Von Koren, laughing.  “In Turgenev, too, Bazarov had a duel with some one. . . .”

“There’s no need to remember,” said Ustimovitch impatiently.  “Measure the distance, that’s all.”

And he took three steps as though to show how to measure it.  Boyko counted out the steps while his companion drew his sabre and scratched the earth at the extreme points to mark the barrier.  In complete silence the opponents took their places.

“Moles,” the deacon thought, sitting in the bushes.