The Torrents Of Spring

XXII
The copse in which the duel was to take place was a quarter of a mile
from Hanau. Sanin and Pantaleone arrived there first, as the latter had
predicted; they gave orders for the carriage to remain outside the wood,
and they plunged into the shade of the rather thick and close-growing
trees. They had to wait about an hour.
The time of waiting did not seem particularly disagreeable to Sanin; he
walked up and down the path, listened to the birds singing, watched the
dragonflies in their flight, and like the majority of Russians in similar circumstances,
tried not to think. He only once dropped into reflection; he
came across a young lime-tree, broken down, in all probability by the
squall of the previous night. It was unmistakably dying … all the leaves
on it were dead. ‘What is it? an omen?’ was the thought that flashed
across his mind; but he promptly began whistling, leaped over the very
tree, and paced up and down the path. As for Pantaleone, he was
grumbling, abusing the Germans, sighing and moaning, rubbing first his
back and then his knees. He even yawned from agitation, which gave a
very comic expression to his tiny shrivelled-up face. Sanin could scarcely
help laughing when he looked at him.
They heard, at last, the rolling of wheels along the soft road. ‘It’s they!’
said Pantaleone, and he was on the alert and drew himself up, not
without a momentary nervous shiver, which he made haste, however, to
cover with the ejaculation ‘B-r-r!’ and the remark that the morning was
rather fresh. A heavy dew drenched the grass and leaves, but the sultry
heat penetrated even into the wood.
Both the officers quickly made their appearance under its arched avenues;
they were accompanied by a little thick-set man, with a phlegmatic,
almost sleepy, expression of face – the army doctor. He carried in one
hand an earthenware pitcher of water – to be ready for any emergency; a
satchel with surgical instruments and bandages hung on his left
shoulder. It was obvious that he was thoroughly used to such excursions;
they constituted one of the sources of his income; each duel yielded
him eight gold crowns – four from each of the combatants. Herr von
Richter carried a case of pistols, Herr von Dönhof – probably considering
it the thing – was swinging in his hand a little cane.
‘Pantaleone!’ Sanin whispered to the old man; ‘if … if I’m killed – anything
may happen – take out of my side pocket a paper – there’s a flower
wrapped up in it – and give the paper to Signorina Gemma. Do you
hear? You promise?’
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