y said something, Boyko explained something again, but
Laevsky did not hear--or rather heard, but did not understand.
He cocked his pistol when the time came to do so, and raised the
cold, heavy weapon with the barrel upwards. He forgot to unbutton
his overcoat, and it felt very tight over his shoulder and under
his arm, and his arm rose as awkwardly as though the sleeve had
been cut out of tin. He remembered the hatred he had felt the night
before for the swarthy brow and curly hair, and felt that even
yesterday at the moment of intense hatred and anger he could not
have shot a man. Fearing that the bullet might somehow hit Von Koren
by accident, he raised the pistol higher and higher, and felt that
this too obvious magnanimity was indelicate and anything but
magnanimous, but he did not know how else to do and could do nothing
else. Looking at the pale, ironically smiling face of Von Koren,
who evidently had been convinced from the beginning that his opponent
would fire in the air, Laevsky thought that, thank God, everything
would be over directly, and all that he had to do was to press the
trigger rather hard. . . .

He felt a violent shock on the shoulder; there was the sound of a
shot and an answering echo in the mountains: ping-ting!

Von Koren cocked his pistol and looked at Ustimovitch, who was
pacing as before with his hands behind his back, taking no notice
of any one.

"Doctor," said the zoologist, "be so good as not to move to and fro
like a pendulum. You make me dizzy."

The doctor stood still. Von Koren began to take aim at Laevsky.

"It's all over!" thought Laevsky.

The barrel of the pistol aimed straight at his face, the expression
of hatred and contempt in Von Koren's attitude and whole figure,
and the murder just about to be committed by a decent man in broad
daylight, in the presence of decent men, and the stillness and the
unknown force that compelled Laevsky to stand still and not to run
--how mysterious it all was, how incomprehensible and terrible!

The moment while Von Koren was taking aim seemed to Laevsky longer
than a night: he glanced imploringly at the seconds; they were pale
and did not stir.

"Make haste and fire," thought Laevsky, and felt that his pale,
quivering, and pitiful face must arouse even greater hatred in Von
Koren.

"I'll kill him directly," thought Von Koren, aiming at his forehead,
with his finger already on the catch. "Yes, of course I'll kill
him."

"He'll k