The words which had provoked our quarrel seemed to me the more infamous
when, instead of a rude and coarse joke, I saw in them a premeditated
calumny.

The wish to punish the barefaced liar took more entire possession of me,
and I awaited impatiently a favourable moment. I had not to wait long.
On the morrow, just as I was busy composing an elegy, and I was biting
my pen as I searched for a rhyme, Chvabrine tapped at my window. I laid
down the pen, and I took up my sword and left the house.

"Why delay any longer?" said Chvabrine. "They are not watching us any
more. Let us go to the river-bank; there nobody will interrupt us."

We started in silence, and after having gone down a rugged path we
halted at the water's edge and crossed swords.

Chvabrine was a better swordsman than I was, but I was stronger and
bolder, and M. Beaupré, who had, among other things, been a soldier, had
given me some lessons in fencing, by which I had profited.

Chvabrine did not in the least expect to find in me such a dangerous
foeman. For a long while we could neither of us do the other any harm,
but at last, noticing that Chvabrine was getting tired, I vigorously
attacked him, and almost forced him backwards into the river.

Suddenly I heard my own name called in a loud voice. I quickly turned my
head, and saw Savéliitch running towards me down the path. At this
moment I felt a sharp prick in the chest, under the right shoulder, and
I fell senseless.