ll on which the major's weapons were hanging,
and took down at random one of the pistols--of which there were several
of different calibres. We were still in the dark as to what he meant
to do. But, when he cocked the pistol and sprinkled powder in the pan,
several of the officers, crying out in spite of themselves, seized him
by the arms.

"What are you going to do?" they exclaimed. "This is madness!"

"Gentlemen!" he said slowly, disengaging his arm. "Who would like to pay
twenty ducats for me?"

They were silent and drew away.

Vulich went into the other room and sat by the table; we all followed
him. With a sign he invited us to sit round him. We obeyed in
silence--at that moment he had acquired a certain mysterious authority
over us. I stared fixedly into his face; but he met my scrutinising
gaze with a quiet and steady glance, and his pallid lips smiled. But,
notwithstanding his composure, it seemed to me that I could read the
stamp of death upon his pale countenance. I have noticed--and many old
soldiers have corroborated my observation--that a man who is to die in
a few hours frequently bears on his face a certain strange stamp of
inevitable fate, so that it is difficult for practised eyes to be
mistaken.

"You will die to-day!" I said to Vulich.

He turned towards me rapidly, but answered slowly and quietly:

"May be so, may be not."...

Then, addressing himself to the major, he asked:

"Is the pistol loaded?"

The major, in the confusion, could not quite remember.

"There, that will do, Vulich!" exclaimed somebody. "Of course it must be
loaded, if it was one of those hanging on the wall there over our heads.
What a man you are for joking!"

"A silly joke, too!" struck in another.

"I wager fifty rubles to five that the pistol is not loaded!" cried a
third.

A new bet was made.

I was beginning to get tired of it all.

"Listen," I said, "either shoot yourself, or hang up the pistol in its
place and let us go to bed."

"Yes, of course!" many exclaimed. "Let us go to bed."

"Gentlemen, I beg of you not to move," said Vulich, putting the muzzle
of the pistol to his forehead.

We were all petrified.

"Mr. Pechorin," he added, "take a card and throw it up in the air."

I took, as I remember now, an ace of hearts off the table and threw
it into the air. All held their breath. With eyes full of terror and
a certain vague curiosity they glanced rapidly from the pistol to the
fateful ace, wh