to hear you say so. Your words relieve me
from a state of incertitude.'

'Of uncertainty, you mean to say.'

'That is all the same! I express myself so as to be understood; I ...
am not a seminary rat. Your words save me from a rather deplorable
necessity. I have made up my mind to fight you.'

Bazarov opened his eyes wide. 'Me?'

'Undoubtedly.'

'But what for, pray?'

'I could explain the reason to you,' began Pavel Petrovitch, 'but I
prefer to be silent about it. To my idea your presence here is
superfluous; I cannot endure you; I despise you; and if that is not
enough for you ...'

Pavel Petrovitch's eyes glittered ... Bazarov's too were flashing.

'Very good,' he assented. 'No need of further explanations. You've a
whim to try your chivalrous spirit upon me. I might refuse you this
pleasure, but--so be it!'

'I am sensible of my obligation to you,' replied Pavel Petrovitch; 'and
may reckon then on your accepting my challenge without compelling me to
resort to violent measures.'

'That means, speaking without metaphor, to that stick?' Bazarov
remarked coolly. 'That is precisely correct. It's quite unnecessary for
you to insult me. Indeed, it would not be a perfectly safe proceeding.
You can remain a gentleman.... I accept your challenge, too, like a
gentleman.'

'That is excellent,' observed Pavel Petrovitch, putting his stick in
the corner. 'We will say a few words directly about the conditions of
our duel; but I should like first to know whether you think it
necessary to resort to the formality of a trifling dispute, which might
serve as a pretext for my challenge?'

'No; it's better without formalities.'

'I think so myself. I presume it is also out of place to go into the
real grounds of our difference. We cannot endure one another. What more
is necessary?'

'What more, indeed?' repeated Bazarov ironically.

'As regards the conditions of the meeting itself, seeing that we shall
have no seconds--for where could we get them?'

'Exactly so; where could we get them?'

'Then I have the honour to lay the following proposition before you:
The combat to take place early to-morrow, at six, let us say, behind
the copse, with pistols, at a distance of ten paces....'

'At ten paces? that will do; we hate one another at that distance.'

'We might have it eight,' remarked Pavel Petrovitch.

'We might.'

'To fire twice; and, to be ready for any result, let each put a letter
in his pocket, in which