“His pistol protruded from a side pocket.  I measured twelve paces and took my stand there in that corner, begging him to fire quickly, before my wife arrived.  He hesitated, and asked for a light.  Candles were brought in.  I closed the doors, gave orders that nobody was to enter, and again begged him to fire.  He drew out his pistol and took aim. . . .  I counted the seconds. . . .  I thought of her. . . .  A terrible minute passed!  Silvio lowered his hand.

“‘I regret,’ said he, ’that the pistol is not loaded with cherry-stones . . . the bullet is heavy.  It seems to me that this is not a duel, but a murder.  I am not accustomed to taking aim at unarmed men.  Let us begin all over again; we will cast lots as to who shall fire first.’

“My head went round. . . .  I think I raised some objection. . . .  At last we loaded another pistol, and rolled up two pieces of paper.  He placed these latter in his cap—­the same through which I had once sent a bullet—­and again I drew the first number.

“‘You are devilish lucky, Count,’ said he, with a smile that I shall never forget.

“I don’t know what was the matter with me, or how it was that he managed to make me do it . . . but I fired and hit that picture.”

The Count pointed with his finger to the perforated picture; his face glowed like fire; the Countess was whiter than her own handkerchief; and I could not restrain an exclamation.

“I fired,” continued the Count, “and, thank Heaven, missed my aim.  Then Silvio . . . at that moment he was really terrible . . .  Silvio raised his hand to take aim at me.  Suddenly the door opens, Masha rushes into the room, and with a loud shriek throws herself upon my neck.  Her presence restored to me all my courage.

“‘My dear,’ said I to her, ’don’t you see that we are joking?  How frightened you are!  Go and drink a glass of water and then come back to us; I will introduce you to an old friend and comrade.’

“Masha still doubted.

“‘Tell me, is my husband speaking the truth?’ said she, turning to the terrible Silvio:  ‘is it true that you are only joking?’

“‘He is always joking, Countess,’ replied Silvio:  ’once he gave me a slap in the face in a joke; on another occasion he sent a bullet through my cap in a joke; and just now, when he fired at me and missed me, it was all in a joke.  And now I feel inclined for a joke.’

“With these words he raised his pistol to take aim at me—­right before her!  Masha threw herself at his feet.

“‘Rise, Masha; are you not ashamed!’ I cried in a rage:  ’and you, sir, will you cease to make fun of a poor woman?  Will you fire or not?’

“‘I will not,’ replied Silvio:  ’I am satisfied.  I have seen your confusion, your alarm.  I forced you to fire at me.  That is sufficient.  You will remember me.  I leave you to your conscience.’

“Then he turned to go, but pausing in the doorway, and looking at the picture that my shot had passed through, he fired at it almost without taking aim, and disappeared.  My wife had fainted away; the servants did not venture to stop him, the mere look of him filled them with terror.  He went out upon the steps, called his coachman, and drove off before I could recover myself.”