"Ferfitchkin, yours too, and everyone's, everyone's: I have insulted you all!"
"Aha! A duel is not in your line, old man," Ferfitchkin hissed venomously.
It sent a sharp pang to my heart.
"No, it's not the duel I am afraid of, Ferfitchkin! I am ready to fight you tomorrow, after we are reconciled. I insist upon it, in fact, and you cannot refuse. I want to show you that I am not afraid of a duel. You shall fire first and I shall fire into the air."
"He is comforting himself," said Simonov.
"He's simply raving," said Trudolyubov.
"But let us pass. Why are you barring our way? What do you want?" Zverkov answered disdainfully. They were all flushed, their eyes were bright: they had been drinking heavily.
"I ask for your friendship, Zverkov; I insulted you, but . . ."
"Insulted? you insulted me? Understand, sir, that you never, under any circumstances, could possibly insult me."
"And that's enough for you. Out of the way!" concluded Trudolyubov.
"Olympia is mine, friends, that's agreed!" cried Zverkov.
"We won't dispute your right, we won't dispute your right," the others answered, laughing.
I stood as though spat upon. The party went noisily out of the room. Trudolyubov struck up some stupid song. Simonov remained behind for a moment to tip the waiters. I suddenly went up to him.
"Simonov! give me six roubles!" I said, with desperate resolution.
He looked at me in extreme amazement, with vacant eyes. He, too, was drunk.
"You don't mean you are coming with us?"
"Yes."
"I've no money," he snapped out, and with a scornful laugh he went out of the room.
128
