Iwán Ignatiitch, who saw my face darken, recollected his promise, became confused, and did not know what to say. Chvabrine came to the rescue. "Iwán Ignatiitch," said he, "approves of the compact we have made." "And with whom, my little father, did you quarrel?" "Why, with Petr' Andréjïtch, to be sure, and we even got to high words." "What for?" "About a mere trifle, over a little song." "Fine thing to quarrel over--a little song! How did it happen?" "Thus. Petr' Andréjïtch lately composed a song, and he began singing it to me this morning. So I--I struck up mine, 'Captain's daughter, don't go abroad at dead of night!' As we did not sing in the same key, Petr' Andréjïtch became angry. But afterwards he reflected that 'every one is free to sing what he pleases,' and that's all." Chvabrine's insolence made me furious, but no one else, except myself, understood his coarse allusions. Nobody, at least, took up the subject. From poetry the conversation passed to poets in general, and the Commandant made the remark that they were all rakes and confirmed drunkards; he advised me as a friend to give up poetry as a thing opposed to the service, and leading to no good. Chvabrine's presence was to me unbearable. I hastened to take leave of the Commandant and his family. After coming home I looked at my sword; I tried its point, and I went to bed after ordering Savéliitch to wake me on the morrow at six o'clock. On the following day, at the appointed hour, I was already behind the haystacks, waiting for my foeman. It was not long before he appeared. "We may be surprised," he said to me; "we must make haste." We laid aside our uniforms, and in our waistcoats we drew our swords from the scabbard. At this moment Iwán Ignatiitch, followed by five pensioners, came out from behind a heap of hay. He gave us an order to go at once before the Commandant. We sulkily obeyed. The soldiers surrounded us, and we followed Iwán Ignatiitch who brought us along in triumph, walking with a military step, with majestic gravity. We entered the Commandant's house. Iwán Ignatiitch threw the door wide open, and exclaimed, emphatically-- "They are taken!" Vassilissa Igorofna ran to meet us. "What does all this mean? Plotting assassination in our very fort! Iván Kouzmitch, put them under arrest at once. Petr' Andréjïtch, Alexey Iványtch, give up your swords, give them up--give them up. Palashka, take away the swords to the garret. Petr' Andréjïtch, I did not expect this of you; aren't you ashamed of yourself? As to Alexey Iványtch, it's different; he was transferred from the Guard for sending a soul into the other world. He does not believe in our Lord! But do you wish to do likewise?" Iván Kouzmitch approved of all his wife said, repeating-- "Look there, now, Vassilissa Igorofna is quite right--duels are formally forbidden by martial law." Palashka had taken away our swords, and had carried them to the garret. I could not help laughing. Chvabrine looked grave.