He was quite quiet and well-behaved; above all things, well-behaved! The mood he had happened on for this particular phase of his action was a virulent3 snobbery5. He was a painful and blushing snob4! He had, at his last public appearance, taken the r?le of a tramp-comedian. He had invited every description of slight and indignity6. The world seemed to wish to perpetuate7 this part for him. But he would not play! He refused! A hundred times, he refused!
He remembered with eagerness that he was a German gentleman, with a university education; who had never worked; a member of an honourable8 family! He remembered each detail socially to his advantage, realizing methodically things he had from childhood accepted and never thought of examining. But he had gone a step further. He had arbitrarily revived the title of Frei-Herr that, it was rumoured9 in his family, his ancestors had borne. With Bitzenko he had referred to himself as the Frei-Herr Otto Kreisler. Had the occasion allowed, he would have been very courteous10 and gentle with Soltyk, merely to prove what a gentleman he was! But, alas11, nothing but brutality13 (against the grain—the noble grain—as this went!) would achieve his end.
And the end was still paramount14. His snobbery was the outcome of this end, of his end. It was, in this obsession15 of disused and disappearing life, the wild assertion of vitality16, the clamour for recognition[257] that life and the beloved self were still there, that brought out the reeking17 and brand-new snob. He was almost dead (he had promised his father his body for next month, and must be punctual), but people already had begun treading on him and striking matches on his boots. As to fighting with a man who was practically dead, to all intents and purposes, one mass of worms—a worm, in short—that was not to be expected of anybody.
So he became a violent snob.
It was Soltyk’s rude behaviour on the day before in the presence of Anastasya that had set him raving18 on this subject. The Russian Pole was up against a raving snob whose social dignity he had wounded.
Bitzenko and Kreisler came out to get Louis Soltyk like two madmen, full of solemn method and with miraculous19 solidarity20. Their schemes and energies flew direct from mind to mind, without the need for words. Bitzenko with his own hand had brushed the back of Kreisler’s coat; on tiptoe doing this he looked particularly childlike. They were together there in Kreisler’s room before they started like two little boys dressing21 up in preparation for some mischief22.
Kreisler had fixed23 his eyes on Soltyk from his table with alert offensiveness. The prosperous appearance of the Poles annoyed him deeply. Their watches were all there, silk handkerchiefs slipped up their sleeves; they looked sleek24 and new. A gentle flame of social security and ease danced in their eyes and gestures. He was out in the dark, they were in a lighted room! He wished their fathers’ affairs might deteriorate25 and their fortunes fall to pieces; that their watches could be stolen, and their restaurant-tick attacked by insidious26 reports! And as he watched them he felt more and more an outcast, shabbier and shabbier. He saw himself the little official in a German provincial27 town that his father’s letter foreshadowed.
One or two of them pointed28 him out to Soltyk, and it was a wounding laugh of the latter’s that brought him to his feet.
[258]
As he was slapping his enemy he woke up out of his nightmare. He was like a sleeper29 having the first inkling of his solitude30 when he is woken by the climax31 of his dream, still surrounded by tenacious32 influences. But had any one struck him then, the blow would have had as little effect as a blow aimed at a waking man by a phantom33 of his sleep. The noise around him was a receding34 accompaniment.
Then he felt hypnotized by Soltyk’s quietness. The sweet white of the face made him sick. To overcome this he stepped forward again to strike the dummy35 once more, and then it moved suddenly. As he raised his hand his glasses almost slipped off, and at that point he was seized by the gar?ons. Hurried out on to the pavement, he could still see, at the bottom of a huge placid36 mirror just inside the café, the wriggling37 backs of the band of Poles. Drawing out his card-case, he had handed the waiter a visiting-card. The waiter at first refused it. He turned his head aside vaguely38, as a dog does when doubtful about some morsel39 offered him; then he took it. Kreisler saw in the mirror the tearing up of his card. Fury once more—not so much because it was a new slight as that he feared his only hope, Soltyk, might escape him.
The worry of this hour or so in which Bitzenko was negotiating told on him so much that when at last his emissary announced that an arrangement had been come to in the sense he wished, he questioned him incredulously. He felt hardly any satisfaction, reaction setting in immediately.
Bitzenko went back to Kreisler’s door with him and, promising40 to return within half an hour, left him. Tarr having, as he had stipulated41, left when the talking was over, Bitzenko first went in search of a friend to serve as second. The man he decided42 on was already in bed, and at once, half asleep, without preparation of any sort, consented to do what was asked of him.
“Will you be a second in a duel43 to-morrow morning at half-past six?”
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“Yes.”
“At half-past six?”
“Yes.” And after a minute or two, “Is it you?”
“No, a German friend of mine.”
“All right.”
“You will have to get up at five.”
Bitzenko’s friend was a tall, powerfully built young Russian painter, who, with his great bow-legs, would take up some straggling and extravagantly44 twisted pose of the body and remain immobile for minutes together, with an air of ridiculous detachment. This combination of a tortured, restless attitude, and at the same time statuesque tendency, suggested something like a contemplative acrobat45 or contortionist. A mouth of almost anguished46 attention and little calm indifferent eyes, produced similar results in the face.
Bitzenko’s next move was to go to his rooms, put a gently ticking little clock, with an enormous alarum on the top, under his arm, and then walk round once more to Otto Kreisler’s. He informed his friend of these last arrangements made in his interests. He suggested that it would be better for him to sleep there that night, to save time in the morning. In short, he attached himself to Kreisler’s person. Until it were deposited in the large cemetery48 near by, or else departed from the Gare du Nord in a deal box for burial in Germany, it should not leave him. In the event of victory, and he being no longer responsible for it, it should disappear as best it could. The possible subsequent conflict with the police was not without charm for Bitzenko. He regarded the police force, its functions and existence, as a pretext49 for adventure.
The light was blown out. Bitzenko curled himself up on the floor. He insisted on this. Kreisler must be fresh in the morning and do him justice. The Russian could hear the bed shaking for some time. Kreisler was trembling violently. A sort of exultation50 at the thought of his success caused this nervous attack. He had been quite passive since he had heard that all was well.
[260]
At about half-past four in the morning Kreisler was dreaming of Volker and a pact51 he had made with him in his sleep never to divulge52 some secret, which there was never any possibility of his doing in any case, as he had completely forgotten what it was. He was almost annihilated54 by a terrific explosion. With his eyes suddenly wide open, he saw the little clock quivering in the mantelpiece beneath its large alarum. When it had stopped Kreisler could hardly believe his ears, as though this sound had been going to accompany life, for that day at least, as a destructive and terrifying feature. Then he saw the Russian, already on his feet. His white and hairy little body had apparently56 risen energetically out of the scratch bedclothes simultaneously57 with the “going off” of his clock, as though it were a mechanism58 set for the same hour.
They both dressed without a word. Kreisler wrote a short letter to his father, entrusting60 it to his second.
Kreisler’s last few francs were to be spent on a taxi to take them to the place arranged on, outside the fortifications.
They found the other second sound asleep. Bitzenko more or less dressed him. They set out in their taxi to the rendezvous61 by way of the Bois.
The chilly62 and unusual air of the early morning, the empty streets and shuttered houses, destroyed all feeling of reality of what was happening for Kreisler. Had the duel been a thing to fear it would have had an opposite effect. His errand did not appear as an inflexible63 reality, either, following upon events that there was no taking back. It was a whim64, a caprice, they were pursuing, as though, for instance, they had woken up in the early morning and decided to go fishing. They were carrying it out with a dogged persistency65, with which our whims66 are often served.
He kept his thought away from Soltyk. He seemed a very long way off; it would be fatiguing67 for the mind to go in search of him.
When the scientist’s nature, with immense fugue,[261] has induced a man to marry some handsome young lady—this feat55 accomplished68, Nature leaves him practically alone, only coming back to give him a prod47 from time to time—assured that, like a little trickling69 stream, his life will go steadily70 on in the bed gauged71 for it by this upheaval72. Nature, in Kreisler’s case, had done its work of another description. But she had left the Russian with him to see that all was carried out according to her wishes. Kreisler’s German nature that craved73 discipline, a course marked out, had got more even than it asked for. It had been presented with a mimic74 Fate.
But Bitzenko evidently took his pleasure morosely75. The calm and assurance of the evening before had given place to a brooding humour. He was only restored to a silent and intense animation76 on hearing his “Browning” speak. He produced this somewhere in the Bois, and insisted on his principal having a little practice as they had plenty of time to spare. This was a very imprudent step. It might draw attention to their movements. Kreisler proved an excellent shot. Then the Russian himself, with impassible face, emptied a couple of chambers77 into a tree-trunk. He put his “Browning” back into his pocket hastily after this, as though startled at his own self-indulgence.
A piece of waste land, on the edge of a wood, well hidden on all sides, had been chosen for the duel.
The enemy was not on the ground. Kreisler’s passivity still subsisted78. So far he had felt that Accident had been dealt a shrewd blow and brought to its knees. He was in good hands. Until this was all over he had nothing to worry about.
Fresh compartment79. The duel became for him, as he stood on the damp grass, conventional. It was a duel like another. He was seeking reparation by arms. He had been libelled and outraged80. “A beautiful woman” was at the bottom of it. Life had no value for him! Tant pis for the other man who had been foolhardy enough to cross his path. His coat-collar turned up, he looked sternly towards[262] the road, his moustaches blowing a little in the wind. He asked Bitzenko for a cigarette. That gentleman did not smoke, but the other Russian produced a khaki cigarette with a long mouthpiece. He struck a light. As Kreisler lit his cigarette at it, his hand resting against the other’s, a strange feeling shot through him at the contact of this flesh. He moistened his lips and spat81 out a piece of the mouthpiece he had bitten through.
The hour arranged came round and there was still no sign of anybody. The possibility of a hitch82 in the proceedings83 dawned on Kreisler. Personal animosity for Soltyk revived. That idea of obstinacy84 in a caprice, instead of merely carrying out something prearranged and unavoidable, despite his passivity, had proved really the wakefulness of his will. He looked towards his companions, alone there on the ground of the encounter. They were an unsatisfactory pair, after all. They did not look a winning team. He reproached himself for having hit just on this Russian for assistance.
Bitzenko, on the other hand, was deep in thought. He was rehearsing his part of second. The duel in which he had blinded his adversary85 was a figment of his boyish brain, confided86 with tears in his voice one evening to a friend. His only genuine claim to activity was that, in a perfect disguise, he had assisted the peasants of his estate to set fire to his little Manor87 House during the revolution of 1906 for the fun of the thing and in an access of revolutionary sentiment. Afterwards he had assisted the police with information in the investigation88 of the affair, also anonymously89. All this he kept to himself. He referred to his past in Russia in a way that conjured90 up more luridness91 than the flames of his little chateau92 (which did not burn at all well) warranted.
Bitzenko was quite in his element climatically; whereas Kreisler felt his hands getting so cold that he thought they might fail him in the duel.
But a car was heard beyond the trees on the Paris road. This sound in the listless blur93 of nature was[263] masterful in its significance. It struck steadily and at once into brutish apathy94. It so plainly knew what it wanted. It had perhaps outstripped95 men in that. Men in their soft bodies still contained the apathy of the fields. Their mind had burst out of them and taken these crawling pulps96 up on its rigid97 back.
It was Staretsky’s car. With its load of hats it drew up. The four members of the other party came on to the field, the fourth a young Polish doctor. They walked quickly. Bitzenko went to meet them. Staretsky protested energetically that the duel must not proceed.
“It must—not—go—on! Should anything happen—you must allow me to say, should anything happen—the blood of whoever falls will be at your door!” But he felt all the same that the prospect98 of having a little pond of blood at his door was an alluring99 one for Bitzenko.
“Has not your principal seen that in accepting this duel, M. Soltyk had proved his respect for Herr Kreisler’s claim? The attitude your principal attributed to him is not his attitude?”
Bitzenko stiffened100.
“Is there anything in Herr Kreisler that would justify101 M. Soltyk in considering that he was condescending102??”
The little Russian kept up his cunning and baffling wrangle103. Soltyk’s eyes steadily avoided Kreisler’s person. He hoped this ridiculous figure might make some move enabling them to abandon the duel. But the idea of a favour coming from such a quarter was repellent. His stomach had been out of order the day before—he wondered if it would surge up, disgrace him. He might be sick at any moment. He saw himself on tiptoe, in an ignominious104 spasm105, the proceedings held up, friends and enemies watching. He kept his eyes off Kreisler as a man on board ship keeps his eyes off a dish of banana fritters or a poached egg.
Kreisler, from twenty yards off, stared through his[264] glasses at the group of people he had assembled, as though he had been examining the enemy through binoculars106. Obediently, erect107 and still, he appeared rather amazed at what was occurring. Soltyk, in rear of the others, struggled with his bile. He slipped into his mouth a sedative108 tablet, oxide109 of bromium and heroin110. This made him feel more sick. For a few moments he stood still in horror, expecting to vomit111 at every moment. The blood rushed to his head and covered the back of his neck with a warm liquid sheet.
Kreisler’s look of surprise deepened. He had seen Soltyk slipping something into his mouth, and was puzzled and annoyed, like a child. What was he up to? Poison was the only guess he could give. What on earth??
Having taken part in many mensurs he knew that for this very serious duel his emotions were hardly adequate. His nervous system was as quiescent112 as a corpse113’s. He became offended with his phlegm. All this instinctive114 resistance to the idea of Death, the indignity of being nothing, was rendered empty by his premature115 insensitiveness. He tried to visualize116 and feel. In a few minutes he might be dead! That had so little effect that he almost laughed.
Then he reflected that that man over there might in a few minutes be wiped out. He would become a disintegrating117 mess, uglier than any vitriol or syphilis could make him. All that organism he, Kreisler, would be turning into dung, as though by magic. He, Kreisler, is insulted. The sensations and energies of that man deny him equality of existence. He, Kreisler, lifts his hand, presses a little bar of steel, and the other is swept away into the earth. Heaven knows where the insulting spirit goes to. But the physical disfigurement at least is complete. He went through it laboriously118. But it fell flat as well. He was too near the event to benefit by his fancy. Possibilities were weakened by the nearness of Certainty.
[265]
His momentary119 resentment120 with Bitzenko survived, and he next became annoyed at being treated like an object, as he felt it. He was not deliberately121 conscious of much. But, try as he would to elude122 the disgraces and besmirchings of death, people refused to treat him as anything but a sack of potatoes.
There four or five men had been arguing about him for the last five minutes, and they had not once looked his way. But clearly Bitzenko was defending his duel.
Why should Bitzenko go on disposing of him in this fashion? He took everything for granted; he never so much as appealed to him, even once. Had Bitzenko been commissioned to hustle124 him out of existence?
But Soltyk. There was that fellow again slipping something into his mouth! A cruel and fierce sensation of mixed real and romantic origin rose hotly round his heart. He loved that man! But because he loved him he wished to plunge125 a sword into him, to plunge it in and out and up and down! Why had pistols been chosen?
He would let him off for two pins! He would let him off if?Yes! He began pretending to himself that the duel might after all not take place. That was the only way he could get anything out of it.
He laughed; then shouted out in German:
“Give me one!”
They all looked round. Soltyk did not turn, but the side of his face became crimson126.
Kreisler felt a surge of active passion at the sight of the blood in his face.
“Give me one,” Kreisler shouted again, putting out the palm of his hand, and laughing in a thick, insulting, hearty127 way. He was now a Knabe. He was young and cheeky. His last words had been said with quick cleverness. The heavy coquetting was double-edged.
“What do you mean?” Bitzenko called back.
“I want a jujube. Ask Herr Soltyk!”
[266]
They all turned towards the other principal to the duel, standing128 some yards on the other side of them.
Head thrown back and eyes burning, Soltyk gazed at Kreisler. It was genuine, but not very strong. If killing129 could be embodied130 in the organ that sees—a new function of expression—a perfect weapon would exist. Only the intensest expression being effective, such spiritual blasting powers would be a solution of the arbitrary decisions of force. Words, glances, music are at present as indirect as hands and cannons131. Such music might be written, however, that no fool, hearing it, could survive. Whether it throttled132 him in a spasm of disgust or of shame is immaterial. Soltyk’s battery was too conventional to pierce the layers of putrifying tragedy, Kreisler’s bulwark133. It played to the limit of its power. His cheeks were a dull red: his upper lip was stretched tightly over the gums. The white line of teeth made his face look as though he were laughing. He stamped his foot on the ground with the impetuous grace of a Russian dancer, and started walking hurriedly up and down. He glared at his seconds as well, but although sick with impatience134 made no protest.
A peal123 of drawling laughter came from Kreisler:
“Sorry! Sorry! My mistake,” he shouted.
Bitzenko came over and asked Kreisler if he still, for his part, was of the same mind, that the duel should go on. The principal stared impenetrably at the second.
“If such an arrangement can be come to as should—er?” he began slowly. He was going to play with Bitzenko too, against whom his humour had shifted. A look of deepest dismay appeared in the Russian’s face.
“I don’t understand. You mean??”
“I mean, that if the enemy and you can find a basis for understanding?” and Kreisler went on staring at Bitzenko with his look of false surprise.
“You seem very anxious for me to fight, Herr Bitzenko,” he then said furiously. With a laugh at Bitzenko’s miserable135 face and evident pleasure at his[267] quick-change temperamental, facial agility136, he left him, walking towards the other assistants.
Addressing Staretsky, his face radiating affability, stepping with caution, as though to avoid puddles137, he said:
“I am willing to forgo53 the duel at once on one condition. If Herr Soltyk will give me a kiss, I will forgo the duel!”
He smiled archly and expectantly at Staretsky.
“I don’t know what you mean!”
“Why, a kiss. You know what a kiss is, my dear sir.”
“I shall consider you out of your mind, if?”
“That is my condition.”
Soltyk had come up behind Staretsky.
“What is your condition?” he asked loudly.
Kreisler stepped forward so quickly that he was beside him before Soltyk could move. With one hand coaxingly138 extended towards his arm, he was saying something, too softly for the others to hear.
He had immobilized everybody by his rapid action. Surprise had shot their heads all one way. They stood, watching and listening, screwed into astonishment139 as though by deft140 fingers.
His soft words, too, must have carried sleep. Their insults and their honey clogged141 up his enemy. A hand had been going up to strike. But at the words it stopped dead. So much new matter for anger had been poured into the ear that it wiped out all the earlier impulse. Action must be again begun right down from the root.
Kreisler thrust his mouth forward amorously142, his body in the attitude of the eighteenth-century gallant143, as though Soltyk had been a woman.
The will broke out frantically144 from the midst of bandages and a bulk of suddenly accruing146 fury. Soltyk tore at himself first, writhing147 upright, a statue’s bronze softening148, suddenly, with blood. He became white and red by turns. His blood, one heavy mass, hurtled about in him, up and down, like a sturgeon in a narrow tank.
[268]
All the pilules he had taken seemed acting149 sedatively against the wildness of his muscles. The bromium fought the blood.
His hands were electrified150. Will was at last dashed all over him, an Arctic douche. The hands flew at Kreisler’s throat. His nails made six holes in the flesh and cut into the tendons beneath. Kreisler was hurled151 about. He was pumped backwards152 and forwards. His hands grabbed a mass of hair; as a man slipping on a precipice153 gets hold of a plant. Then they gripped along the coat-sleeves, connecting him with the engine he had just overcharged with fuel. A sallow white, he became puffed154 and exhausted155.
“Acha—acha—” a noise, the beginning of a word, came from his mouth. He sank on his knees. A notion of endless violence filled him. “Tchun—tchun—tchun—tchun—tchun—tchun!” He fell on his back, and the convulsive arms came with him. The strangling sensation at his neck intensified156.
Meanwhile a breath of absurd violence had smitten157 everywhere.
Staretsky had said:
“That crapule is beneath contempt! Pouah!—I refuse to act. Whatever induced us?”
Bitzenko had begun a discourse158. Staretsky turned on him, shrieking159, “Foute-moi la paix, imbécile!”
At this Bitzenko rapped him smartly on the cheek. Staretsky, who spent his mornings sparring with a negro pugilist, gave him a blow between the eyes, which laid him out insensible.
Bitzenko’s friend, interfering160 when he saw this, seized Staretsky round the waist, and threw him down, falling with him.
The doctor and the other second, Wenceslas Khudin, went to separate Soltyk and Kreisler, scuffling and exhorting161. The field was filled with cries, smacks162, and harsh movements.
This Slav chaos163 gradually cleared up.
Soltyk was pulled off; Staretsky and the young Russian were separated. Bitzenko once more was on[269] his feet. Then they were all dusting their trousers, arranging their collars, picking up their hats.
Kreisler stood stretching his neck to right and left alternately. His collar was torn open; blood trickled164 down his chest. He had felt weak and unable to help himself against Soltyk.
Actual fighting appeared a contingency165 outside the calculations or functioning of his spirit. Brutal12 by rote59 and in the imagination, if action came too quickly before he could inject it with his dream, his forces were disconnected. This physical mêlée had been a disturbing interlude. He was extremely offended at it. His eyes rested steadily and angrily on Soltyk. This attempt on his part to escape into physical and secondary things he must be made to pay for! He staggered a little, with the dignity of the drunken man.
His glasses were still on his nose. They had weathered the storm, tightly riding his face, because of Soltyk’s partiality for his neck.
Staretsky took Soltyk by the arm.
“Come along, Louis. Surely you don’t want any more of it? Let’s get out of this. I refuse to act as second. You can’t fight without seconds!”
Soltyk was panting, his mouth opening and shutting. He first turned this way, then that. His action was that of a man avoiding some importunity166.
“C’est bien, c’est bien!” he gasped167 in French. “Je sais. Laisse-moi.”
All his internal disorganization was steadily claiming his attention.
“Mais dépêche-toi donc! Filons. Nous avons plus rien à faire ici.” Staretsky slipped his arm through his. Half supporting him, he began urging him along towards the car. Soltyk, stumbling and coughing, allowed himself to be guided.
Khudin and the doctor had been talking together, as the only two men on the field in full possession of their voices and breath. When they saw their friends moving off, they followed.
Bitzenko, recuperating168 rapidly, started after them.
[270]
Kreisler saw all this at first with indifference169. He had taken his handkerchief out and was dabbing170 his neck. Then suddenly, with a rather plaintive171 but resolute172 gait, he ran after his second, his eye fixed on the retreating Poles.
“Hi! A moment! Your Browning. Give me your Browning!” he said hoarsely173. His voice had been driven back into the safer depths of his body. It was a new and unconvincing one.
Bitzenko did not appear to understand.
Kreisler plucked the revolver out of his pocket with the deftness174 of an animal. There was a report. He was firing in the air.
Staretsky had faced quickly round, dragging Soltyk. Kreisler was covering them with the Browning.
“Halt!” he shouted. “Stop there! Not so quickly! I will shoot you like a dog if you will not fight!”
Still holding them up, he ordered Bitzenko to take over to them one of the revolvers provided for the duel.
“That will be murder! If you assist in this, sir, you will be participating in a murder! Stop this?”
Staretsky was jabbering175 at Bitzenko, his arm through his friend’s. Soltyk stood wiping his face with his hand, his eyes on the ground. His breath came heavily, and he kept shifting his feet.
Bitzenko’s tall young Russian stood in a twisted attitude, a gargoyle176 Apollo. His mask of peasant tragedy had broken into a slight smile.
“Move and I fire! Move and I fire!” Kreisler kept shouting, moving up towards them, with stealthy grogginess177. He kept shaking the revolver and pointing at them with the other hand, to keep them alive to the reality of the menace.
“Don’t touch the pistols, Louis!” said Staretsky, as Bitzenko came over with his leather dispatch-case. He let go of Soltyk’s arm and folded his own.
“Don’t touch them, Louis. They daren’t shoot!”
Louis appeared apathetic178 both as to the pistols and the good advice.
[271]
“Leave him both,” Kreisler called, his revolver still trained on Staretsky and Soltyk.
Bitzenko put them both down, a foot away from Soltyk, and walked hurriedly out of the zone of fire.
“Will you take up one of those pistols, or both?” Kreisler said.
“Kindly point that revolver somewhere else, and allow us to go!” Staretsky said loudly.
“I’m not speaking to you, pig-face! It’s you I’m addressing. Take up that pistol!”
He was now five or six yards from them.
“Herr Soltyk is unarmed! The pistols you want him to take only have one charge. Yours has twelve. In any case it would be murder!”
Kreisler walked up to them. He was very white, much quieter, and acted with effort. He stooped down to take up one of the pistols. Staretsky aimed a blow at his head. It caught him just in front of the ear, on the right cheek-bone. He staggered sideways, tripped, and fell. The moment he felt the blow he pulled the trigger of the Browning, which still pointed towards his principal adversary. Soltyk threw his arms up: Kreisler was struggling towards his feet: he fell face forwards on top of him.
Kreisler thought this was a new attack. He seized Soltyk’s body round the middle, rolling over on top of it. It was quite limp. He then thought the other man had fainted; ruptured179 himself?? He drew back quickly. Two hands grasped him and flung him down on his stomach. This time his glasses went. Scrambling180 after them, he remembered his Browning, which he had dropped. He shot his hands out to left and right—forgetting his glasses—to recover the Browning. He felt that a blow was a long time in coming.
“He’s dead! He’s dead! He’s dead!”
Staretsky’s voice, announcing that in French, he heard at the same time as Bitzenko’s saying:
“What are you looking for? Come quickly!”
“Where is the Browning?” he asked. At that[272] moment his hand struck his glasses. He put them on and got to his feet.
At Bitzenko’s words he had a feeling of a new order of things having set in, that he remembered having experienced once or twice before in life. They came in a fresh surprising tone. It was as though they were the first words he had heard that day. They seemed to imply a sudden removal, a journey, novel conditions.
“Come along, I’ve got the Browning. There’s no time to lose.” It was all over; he must embrace practical affairs. The Russian’s voice was businesslike. Something had finished for him, too. Kreisler saw the others standing in a peaceful group; the doctor was getting up from beside Soltyk.
Staretsky rushed over to Kreisler, and shook his fist in his face and tried to speak. But his mouth was twisted down at the corners, and he could hardly see. The palms of his hands pressed into each of his eyes, the next moment he was sobbing181, walking back to his friends.
Bitzenko’s bolt was shot. Kreisler had been unsatisfactory. All had ended in a silly accident, which might have awkward consequences for his second. It was hardly a real corpse at all.
But something was sent to console him. The police had got wind of the duel. Bitzenko, his compatriot and Kreisler were walking down the field, intending to get into the road at the farther end, and walk to the nearest station. The taxi had been sent away, Kreisler having no more money, and Bitzenko’s feeling in the matter being that should Kreisler fall, a corpse can always find some sentimental182 soul to look after it. And there was always the Morgue, dramatic and satisfactory.
They were already half-way along the field when a car passed them on the other side of the hedge at full tilt183.
The Russian was once more in his element. His face cleared. He looked ten years younger. In the occupants of the car he had recognized members of the police force!
[273]
Calling “Run!” to Kreisler he took to his heels, followed by his young fellow-second, whose neck shot in and out, and whose great bow-legs could almost be heard twanging as he ran. They reached a hedge, ran along the farther side of it. Bitzenko was bent184 double as though to escape a rain of bullets. Eventually he was seen careering across an open space quite near the river, which lay a couple of hundred yards beyond the lower end of the field. There he lay ambushed185 for a moment, behind a shrub186. Then he darted187 forward again, and eventually disappeared along the high road in a cloud of dust. His athletic188 young friend made straight for the railway station, which he reached without incident and returned at once to Paris. Kreisler conformed to Bitzenko’s programme of flight. He scrambled189 through the hedge, crossed the road and escaped almost unnoticed.
The truth was that the Russian had attracted the attention of the police to such an extent by his striking flight, that without a moment’s hesitation190 they had bolted helter-skelter after him. They contented191 themselves with a parting shout or two at Kreisler. Duelling was a very venial192 offence; capture in these cases was not a matter of the least moment. But they were so impressed by the Russian’s businesslike way of disappearing that they imagined this must have been a curiously193 immoral194 sort of duel. That he was the principal they did not doubt for a moment.
So they went after him in full cry, rousing two or three villagers in their passage, who followed at their heels, pouring with frantic145 hullabaloo in the direction of Paris. Bitzenko, however, with great resourcefulness, easily outwitted them. He crossed the Seine near St. Cloud, and got back to Paris in time to read the afternoon newspaper account of the duel and flight with infantile solemnity and calm.
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1
wrench
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| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
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2
bad-tempered
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| adj.脾气坏的 | |
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3
virulent
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| adj.有毒的，有恶意的，充满敌意的 | |
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4
snob
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| n.势利小人，自以为高雅、有学问的人 | |
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5
snobbery
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| n. 充绅士气派, 俗不可耐的性格 | |
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6
indignity
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| n.侮辱，伤害尊严，轻蔑 | |
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7
perpetuate
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| v.使永存，使永记不忘 | |
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8
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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9
rumoured
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| adj.谣传的；传说的；风 | |
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10
courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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11
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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12
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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13
brutality
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| n.野蛮的行为，残忍，野蛮 | |
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14
paramount
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| a.最重要的，最高权力的 | |
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15
obsession
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| n.困扰，无法摆脱的思想(或情感) | |
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16
vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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17
reeking
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的现在分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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18
raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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19
miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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20
solidarity
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| n.团结；休戚相关 | |
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21
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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22
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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23
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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24
sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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25
deteriorate
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| v.变坏；恶化；退化 | |
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26
insidious
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| adj.阴险的，隐匿的，暗中为害的，（疾病）不知不觉之间加剧 | |
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27
provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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28
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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29
sleeper
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| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
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30
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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31
climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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32
tenacious
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| adj.顽强的，固执的，记忆力强的，粘的 | |
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33
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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34
receding
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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35
dummy
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| n.假的东西；(哄婴儿的)橡皮奶头 | |
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36
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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37
wriggling
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的现在分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等）；蠕蠕 | |
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38
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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39
morsel
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| n.一口，一点点 | |
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40
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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41
stipulated
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| vt.& vi.规定；约定adj.[法]合同规定的 | |
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42
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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43
duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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44
extravagantly
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| adv.挥霍无度地 | |
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45
acrobat
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| n.特技演员，杂技演员 | |
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46
anguished
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| adj.极其痛苦的v.使极度痛苦(anguish的过去式) | |
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47
prod
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| vt.戳，刺；刺激，激励 | |
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48
cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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49
pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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50
exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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51
pact
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| n.合同，条约，公约，协定 | |
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52
divulge
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| v.泄漏(秘密等)；宣布，公布 | |
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53
forgo
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| v.放弃，抛弃 | |
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54
annihilated
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| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的过去式和过去分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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55
feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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56
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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57
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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58
mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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59
rote
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| n.死记硬背，生搬硬套 | |
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60
entrusting
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| v.委托，托付( entrust的现在分词 ) | |
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61
rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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62
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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63
inflexible
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| adj.不可改变的，不受影响的，不屈服的 | |
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64
whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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65
persistency
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| n. 坚持(余辉, 时间常数) | |
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66
WHIMS
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| 虚妄，禅病 | |
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67
fatiguing
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| a.使人劳累的 | |
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68
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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69
trickling
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| n.油画底色含油太多而成泡沫状突起v.滴( trickle的现在分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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70
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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71
gauged
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| adj.校准的；标准的；量规的；量计的v.（用仪器）测量( gauge的过去式和过去分词 )；估计；计量；划分 | |
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72
upheaval
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| n.胀起，(地壳)的隆起；剧变，动乱 | |
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73
craved
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| 渴望，热望( crave的过去式 )； 恳求，请求 | |
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74
mimic
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| v.模仿，戏弄；n.模仿他人言行的人 | |
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75
morosely
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| adv.愁眉苦脸地，忧郁地 | |
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76
animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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77
chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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78
subsisted
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| v.（靠很少的钱或食物）维持生活，生存下去( subsist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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79
compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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80
outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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81
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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82
hitch
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| v.免费搭(车旅行)；系住；急提；n.故障；急拉 | |
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83
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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84
obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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85
adversary
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| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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86
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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87
manor
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| n.庄园，领地 | |
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88
investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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89
anonymously
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| ad.用匿名的方式 | |
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90
conjured
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| 用魔术变出( conjure的过去式和过去分词 )； 祈求，恳求； 变戏法； （变魔术般地） 使…出现 | |
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91
luridness
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92
chateau
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| n.城堡，别墅 | |
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93
blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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94
apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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95
outstripped
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| v.做得比…更好，（在赛跑等中）超过( outstrip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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96
pulps
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| 水果的肉质部分( pulp的第三人称单数 )； 果肉； 纸浆； 低级书刊 | |
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97
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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98
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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99
alluring
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| adj.吸引人的，迷人的 | |
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100
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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101
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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102
condescending
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| adj.谦逊的,故意屈尊的 | |
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103
wrangle
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| vi.争吵 | |
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104
ignominious
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| adj.可鄙的，不光彩的，耻辱的 | |
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105
spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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106
binoculars
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| n.双筒望远镜 | |
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107
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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108
sedative
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| adj.使安静的，使镇静的；n. 镇静剂，能使安静的东西 | |
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109
oxide
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| n.氧化物 | |
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heroin
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| n.海洛因 | |
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111
vomit
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| v.呕吐，作呕；n.呕吐物，吐出物 | |
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112
quiescent
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| adj.静止的，不活动的，寂静的 | |
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113
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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114
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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115
premature
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| adj.比预期时间早的；不成熟的，仓促的 | |
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116
visualize
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| vt.使看得见，使具体化，想象，设想 | |
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117
disintegrating
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| v.（使）破裂[分裂，粉碎]，（使）崩溃( disintegrate的现在分词 ) | |
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118
laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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119
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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120
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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121
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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122
elude
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| v.躲避，困惑 | |
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123
peal
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| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
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124
hustle
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| v.推搡；竭力兜售或获取；催促；n.奔忙(碌) | |
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125
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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126
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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127
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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128
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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129
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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130
embodied
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| v.表现( embody的过去式和过去分词 )；象征；包括；包含 | |
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131
cannons
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| n.加农炮，大炮，火炮( cannon的名词复数 ) | |
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132
throttled
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| v.扼杀( throttle的过去式和过去分词 )；勒死；使窒息；压制 | |
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133
bulwark
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| n.堡垒，保障，防御 | |
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134
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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135
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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136
agility
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| n.敏捷，活泼 | |
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137
puddles
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| n.水坑， （尤指道路上的）雨水坑( puddle的名词复数 ) | |
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138
coaxingly
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| adv. 以巧言诱哄，以甘言哄骗 | |
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139
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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140
deft
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| adj.灵巧的，熟练的（a deft hand 能手） | |
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141
clogged
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| （使）阻碍( clog的过去式和过去分词 )； 淤滞 | |
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142
amorously
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| adv.好色地，妖艳地；脉；脉脉；眽眽 | |
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143
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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144
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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145
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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146
accruing
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| v.增加( accrue的现在分词 )；（通过自然增长）产生；获得；（使钱款、债务）积累 | |
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147
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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148
softening
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| 变软，软化 | |
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149
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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150
electrified
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| v.使电气化( electrify的过去式和过去分词 )；使兴奋 | |
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151
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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152
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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153
precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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154
puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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155
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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156
intensified
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| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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157
smitten
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| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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158
discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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159
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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160
interfering
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| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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161
exhorting
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| v.劝告，劝说( exhort的现在分词 ) | |
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162
smacks
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| 掌掴（声）( smack的名词复数 )； 海洛因； （打的）一拳； 打巴掌 | |
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163
chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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164
trickled
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| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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165
contingency
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| n.意外事件，可能性 | |
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166
importunity
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| n.硬要，强求 | |
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167
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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168
recuperating
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| v.恢复（健康、体力等），复原( recuperate的现在分词 ) | |
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169
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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170
dabbing
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| 石面凿毛，灰泥抛毛 | |
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171
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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172
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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173
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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174
deftness
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175
jabbering
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| v.急切而含混不清地说( jabber的现在分词 )；急促兴奋地说话；结结巴巴 | |
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176
gargoyle
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| n.笕嘴 | |
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177
grogginess
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| 酒醉；东歪西倒 | |
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178
apathetic
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| adj.冷漠的，无动于衷的 | |
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179
ruptured
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| v.（使）破裂( rupture的过去式和过去分词 )；（使体内组织等）断裂；使（友好关系）破裂；使绝交 | |
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180
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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181
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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182
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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183
tilt
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| v.(使)倾侧；(使)倾斜；n.倾侧；倾斜 | |
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184
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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185
ambushed
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| v.埋伏( ambush的过去式和过去分词 )；埋伏着 | |
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186
shrub
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| n.灌木，灌木丛 | |
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187
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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188
athletic
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| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
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189
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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190
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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191
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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192
venial
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| adj.可宽恕的；轻微的 | |
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193
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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194
immoral
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| adj.不道德的，淫荡的，荒淫的，有伤风化的 | |
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