The Duel by Anton Chekhov (read out loud books txt) 📕

the weak, the unskilful, the careless⁠—in fact, those who have defects which nature does not think fit to hand on to posterity. Only the cleverer, the stronger, the more careful and developed survive; and so your little beast, without suspecting it, is serving the great ends of perfecting creation.”

“Yes, yes, yes.⁠ ⁠… By the way, brother,” said Samoylenko carelessly, “lend me a hundred roubles.”

“Very good. There are some very interesting types among the insectivorous mammals. For instance, the mole is said to be useful because he devours noxious insects. There is a story that some German sent William I a fur coat made of moleskins, and the Emperor ordered him to be reproved for having destroyed so great a number of useful animals. And yet the mole is not a bit less cruel than your little beast, and is very mischievous besides, as he spoils meadows terribly.”

Von Koren opened a box and took out a hundred-rouble note.

“The mole has a powerful thorax, just like the bat,” he went on, shutting the box; “the bones and muscles are tremendously developed, the mouth is extraordinarily powerfully furnished. If it had the proportions of an elephant, it would be an all-destructive, invincible animal. It is interesting when two moles meet underground; they begin at once as though by agreement digging a little platform; they need the platform in order to have a battle more conveniently. When they have made it they enter upon a ferocious struggle and fight till the weaker one falls. Take the hundred roubles,” said Von Koren, dropping his voice, “but only on condition that you’re not borrowing it for Laevsky.”

“And if it were for Laevsky,” cried Samoylenko, flaring up, “what is that to you?”

“I can’t give it to you for Laevsky. I know you like lending people money. You would give it to Kerim, the brigand, if he were to ask you; but, excuse me, I can’t assist you in that direction.”

“Yes, it is for Laevsky I am asking it,” said Samoylenko, standing up and waving his right arm. “Yes! For Laevsky! And no one, fiend or devil, has a right to dictate to me how to dispose of my own money. It doesn’t suit you to lend it me? No?”

The deacon began laughing.

“Don’t get excited, but be reasonable,” said the zoologist. “To shower benefits on Mr. Laevsky is, to my thinking, as senseless as to water weeds or to feed locusts.”

“To my thinking, it is our duty to help our neighbours!” cried Samoylenko.

“In that case, help that hungry Turk who is lying under the fence! He is a workman and more useful and indispensable than your Laevsky. Give him that hundred-rouble note! Or subscribe a hundred roubles to my expedition!”

“Will you give me the money or not? I ask you!”

“Tell me openly: what does he want money for?”

“It’s not a secret; he wants to go to Petersburg on Saturday.”

“So that is it!” Von Koren drawled out. “Aha!⁠ ⁠… We understand. And is she going with him, or how is it to be?”

“She’s staying here for the time. He’ll arrange his affairs in Petersburg and send her the money, and then she’ll go.”

“That’s smart!” said the zoologist, and he gave a short tenor laugh. “Smart, well planned.”

He went rapidly up to Samoylenko, and standing face to face with him, and looking him in the eyes, asked: “Tell me now honestly: is he tired of her? Yes? tell me: is he tired of her? Yes?”

“Yes,” Samoylenko articulated, beginning to perspire.

“How repulsive it is!” said Von Koren, and from his face it could be seen that he felt repulsion. “One of two things, Alexandr Daviditch: either you are in the plot with him, or, excuse my saying so, you are a simpleton. Surely you must see that he is taking you in like a child in the most shameless way? Why, it’s as clear as day that he wants to get rid of her and abandon her here. She’ll be left a burden on you. It is as clear as day that you will have to send her to Petersburg at your expense. Surely your fine friend can’t have so blinded you by his dazzling qualities that you can’t see the simplest thing?”

“That’s all supposition,” said Samoylenko, sitting down.

“Supposition? But why is he going alone instead of taking her with him? And ask him why he doesn’t send her off first. The sly beast!”

Overcome with sudden doubts and suspicions about his friend, Samoylenko weakened and took a humbler tone.

“But it’s impossible,” he said, recalling the night Laevsky had spent at his house. “He is so unhappy!”

“What of that? Thieves and incendiaries are unhappy too!”

“Even supposing you are right⁠ ⁠…” said Samoylenko, hesitating. “Let us admit it.⁠ ⁠… Still, he’s a young man in a strange place⁠ ⁠… a student. We have been students, too, and there is no one but us to come to his assistance.”

“To help him to do abominable things, because he and you at different times have been at universities, and neither of you did anything there! What nonsense!”

“Stop; let us talk it over coolly. I imagine it will be possible to make some arrangement.⁠ ⁠…” Samoylenko reflected, twiddling his fingers. “I’ll give him the money, you see, but make him promise on his honour that within a week he’ll send Nadyezhda Fyodorovna the money for the journey.”

“And he’ll give you his word of honour⁠—in fact, he’ll shed tears and believe in it himself; but what’s his word of honour worth? He won’t keep it, and when in a year or two you meet him on the Nevsky Prospect with a new mistress on his arm, he’ll excuse himself on the ground that he has been crippled by civilisation, and that he is made after the pattern of Rudin. Drop him, for God’s sake! Keep away from the filth; don’t stir it up with both hands!”

Samoylenko thought for a minute and said resolutely:

“But I shall give him the money all the same. As you please. I can’t bring myself to refuse a man simply