“The dawn was just breaking.  I was standing at the appointed place with my three seconds.  With inexplicable impatience I awaited my opponent.  The spring sun rose, and it was already growing hot.  I saw him coming in the distance.  He was walking on foot, accompanied by one second.  We advanced to meet him.  He approached, holding his cap filled with black cherries.  The seconds measured twelve paces for us.  I had to fire first, but my agitation was so great, that I could not depend upon the steadiness of my hand; and in order to give myself time to become calm, I ceded to him the first shot.  My adversary would not agree to this.  It was decided that we should cast lots.  The first number fell to him, the constant favorite of fortune.  He took aim, and his bullet went through my cap.  It was now my turn.  His life at last was in my hands; I looked at him eagerly, endeavoring to detect if only the faintest shadow of uneasiness.  But he stood in front of my pistol, picking out the ripest cherries from his cap and spitting out the stones, which flew almost as far as my feet.  His indifference annoyed me beyond measure.  ’What is the use,’ thought I, ’of depriving him of life, when he attaches no value whatever to it?’ A malicious thought flashed through my mind.  I lowered my pistol.

“‘You don’t seem to be ready for death just at present,’ I said to him:  ‘you wish to have your breakfast; I do not wish to hinder you.’

“‘You are not hindering me in the least,’ replied he.  ’Have the goodness to fire, or just as you please—­the shot remains yours; I shall always be ready at your service.’

“I turned to the seconds, informing them that I had no intention of firing that day, and with that the duel came to an end.

“I resigned my commission and retired to this little place.  Since then not a day has passed that I have not thought of revenge.  And now my hour has arrived.”

Silvio took from his pocket the letter that he had received that morning, and gave it to me to read.  Some one (it seemed to be his business agent) wrote to him from Moscow, that a certain person was going to be married to a young and beautiful girl.

“You can guess,” said Silvio, “who the certain person is.  I am going to Moscow.  We shall see if he will look death in the face with as much indifference now, when he is on the eve of being married, as he did once with his cherries!”

With these words, Silvio rose, threw his cap upon the floor, and began pacing up and down the room like a tiger in his cage.  I had listened to him in silence; strange conflicting feelings agitated me.

The servant entered and announced that the horses were ready.  Silvio grasped my hand tightly, and we embraced each other.  He seated himself in his telega, in which lay two trunks, one containing his pistols, the other his effects.  We said good-bye once more, and the horses galloped off.