"No, I will slay thee--if thou dost not marry her .... dost understand?" "What!...." Pável Afanásievitch leaped to his feet, and stood before Vasíly.--"Olga Ivánovna .... you say ...." "Thou 'rt clever, my good fellow, very clever, I must admit." Vasíly, with a smile, tapped him on the shoulder.--"In spite of the fact that thou art so mild of aspect ...." "My God, O God!... You will drive me mad... What do you mean to say? Explain yourself, for God's sake!" Vasíly bent over him and whispered something in his ear. Rogatchyóff cried out:--"What?.... how?" Vasíly stamped his foot. "Olga Ivánovna? Olga?..." "Yes .... your betrothed bride...." "My betrothed bride .... Vasíly Ivánovitch .... she .... she .... But I will have nothing to do with her!"--shouted Pável Afanásievitch. "I 'll have none of her! What do you take me for? To deceive me--to deceive me!... Olga Ivánovna, is n't it sinful of you, are n't you ashamed?...." (Tears gushed from his eyes.)--"I thank you, Vasíly Ivánovitch, I thank you.... And now I 'll have nothing to do with her! I won't! I won't! don't speak of such a thing!.... Akh, good heavens!--that I should have lived to see this day! But it is well, it is well!" "Stop behaving like a baby,"--remarked Vasíly Ivánovitch, coldly.--"Remember, you have given me your word that the wedding shall take place to-morrow." "No, that shall not be! Enough, Vasíly Ivánovitch, I say to you once more--for whom do you take me? You do me much honour; many thanks, sir. Excuse me, sir." "As you like!"--retorted Vasíly.--"Get your sword." "Why?" "This is why." Vasíly drew out his slender, flexible French sword, and bent it slightly against the floor. "You mean .... to fight .... with me?..." "Precisely so." "But, Vasíly Ivánovitch, pray, enter into my position! How can I--judge for yourself--after what you have told me?... I am an honest man, Vasíly Ivánovitch; I am a nobleman." "You are a nobleman, you are an honest man,--then be so good as to fight with me." "Vasíly Ivánovitch!" "You appear to be a coward, Mr. Rogatchyóff?" "I am not in the least a coward, Vasíly Ivánovitch. You have thought to frighten me, Vasíly Ivánovitch. 'Come, now,' you said to yourself, 'I 'll scare him, and he 'll turn cowardly; he will instantly consent to anything.'.... No, Vasíly Ivánovitch, I 'm the same sort of nobleman as yourself, although I have not received my education in the capital, it is true; and you will not succeed in terrifying me, excuse me." "Very good,"--retorted Vasíly:--"where is your sword?" "Eróshka!"--shouted Pável Afanásievitch. A man entered. "Get my sword--yonder--thou knowest where it is--in the garret .... and be quick about it...." Eróshka withdrew. Pável Afanásievitch suddenly turned extremely pale, hastily took off his dressing-gown, put on a kaftan of a reddish hue with large strass buttons .... wound a neckcloth round his neck.... Vasíly watched him, and examined the fingers of his right hand.