LUKA. Oh, Lord, have mercy and save her.... I’ll go and find the coachman and the gardener.... Why has this infliction come on us.... [Exit.] SMIRNOV. [Examining the pistols] You see, there are several sorts of pistols.... There are Mortimer pistols, specially made for duels, they fire a percussion-cap. These are Smith and Wesson revolvers, triple action, with extractors.... These are excellent pistols. They can’t cost less than ninety roubles the pair.... You must hold the revolver like this.... [Aside] Her eyes, her eyes! What an inspiring woman! POPOVA. Like 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!