this?

SMIRNOV. Yes, like this.... Then you cock the trigger, and take aim like
this.... Put your head back a little! Hold your arm out properly....
Like that.... Then you press this thing with your finger--and that's
all. The great thing is to keep cool and aim steadily.... Try not to
jerk your arm.

POPOVA. Very well.... It's inconvenient to shoot in a room, let's go
into the garden.

SMIRNOV. Come along then. But I warn you, I'm going to fire in the air.

POPOVA. That's the last straw! Why?

SMIRNOV. Because... because... it's my affair.

POPOVA. Are you afraid? Yes? Ah! No, sir, you don't get out of it! You
come with me! I shan't have any peace until I've made a hole in your
forehead... that forehead which I hate so much! Are you afraid?

SMIRNOV. Yes, I am afraid.

POPOVA. You lie! Why won't you fight?

SMIRNOV. Because... because you... because I like you.

POPOVA. [Laughs] He likes me! He dares to say that he likes me! [Points
to the door] That's the way.

SMIRNOV. [Loads the revolver in silence, takes his cap and goes to the
door. There he stops for half a minute, while they look at each other
in silence, then he hesitatingly approaches POPOVA] Listen.... Are you
still angry? I'm devilishly annoyed, too... but, do you understand...
how can I express myself?... The fact is, you see, it's like this, so to
speak.... [Shouts] Well, is it my fault that I like you? [He snatches at
the back of a chair; the chair creaks and breaks] Devil take it, how I'm
smashing up your furniture! I like you! Do you understand? I... I almost
love you!

POPOVA. Get away from me--I hate you!

SMIRNOV. God, what a woman! I've never in my life seen one like her! I'm
lost! Done for! Fallen into a mousetrap, like a mouse!

POPOVA. Stand back, or I'll fire!

SMIRNOV. Fire, then! You can't understand what happiness it would be to
die before those beautiful eyes, to be shot by a revolver held in that
little, velvet hand.... I'm out of my senses! Think, and make up your
mind at once, because if I go out we shall never see each other again!
Decide now.... I am a landowner, of respectable character, have an
income of ten thousand a year. I can put a bullet through a coin tossed
into the air as it comes down.... I own some fine horses.... Will you be
my wife?

POPOVA. [Indignantly shakes her revolver] Let's fight! Let's go out!

SMIRNOV. I'm mad.... I understand nothing. [Yells] Waiter, water!

POPOVA. [Yells] Let's go out a