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Page 16
The inhabitants of the capital, with minds occupied by so many matters
of business and pleasure, have no idea of the many sensations so
familiar to the inhabitants of villages and small towns, as, for
instance, the awaiting the arrival of the post. On Tuesdays and Fridays
our regimental bureau used to be filled with officers: some expecting
money, some letters, and others newspapers. The packets were usually
opened on the spot, items of news were communicated from one to another,
and the bureau used to present a very animated picture. Silvio used to
have his letters addressed to our regiment, and he was generally there
to receive them.
One day he received a letter, the seal of which he broke with a look of
great impatience. As he read the contents, his eyes sparkled. The
officers, each occupied with his own letters, did not observe anything.
"Gentlemen," said Silvio, "circumstances demand my immediate departure;
I leave to-night. I hope that you will not refuse to dine with me for
the last time. I shall expect you, too," he added, turning towards me.
"I shall expect you without fail."
With these words he hastily departed, and we, after agreeing to meet at
Silvio's, dispersed to our various quarters.
I arrived at Silvio's house at the appointed time, and found nearly the
whole regiment there. All his things were already packed; nothing
remained but the bare, bullet-riddled walls. We sat down to table. Our
host was in an excellent humor, and his gayety was quickly communicated
to the rest. Corks popped every moment, glasses foamed incessantly, and,
with the utmost warmth, we wished our departing friend a pleasant
journey and every happiness. When we rose from the table it was already
late in the evening. After having wished everybody good-bye, Silvio took
me by the hand and detained me just at the moment when I was preparing
to depart.
"I want to speak to you," he said in a low voice.
I stopped behind.
The guests had departed, and we two were left alone. Sitting down
opposite each other, we silently lit our pipes. Silvio seemed greatly
troubled; not a trace remained of his former convulsive gayety. The
intense pallor of his face, his sparkling eyes, and the thick smoke
issuing from his mouth, gave him a truly diabolical appearance. Several
minutes elapsed, and then Silvio broke the silence.
"Perhaps we shall never see each other again," said he; "before we part,
I should like to have an explanation with you. You may have observed
that I care very little for the opinion of other people, but I like you,
and I feel that it would be painful to me to leave you with a wrong
impression upon your mind."
He paused, and began to knock the ashes out of his pipe. I sat gazing
silently at the ground.
"You thought it strange," he continued, "that I did not demand
satisfaction from that drunken idiot R---. You will admit, however, that
having the choice of weapons, his life was in my hands, while my own was
in no great danger. I could ascribe my forbearance to generosity alone,
but I will not tell a lie. If I could have chastised R--- without the
least risk to my own life, I should never have pardoned him."
I looked at Silvio with astonishment. Such a confession completely
astounded me. Silvio continued:
"Exactly so: I have no right to expose myself to death. Six years ago I
received a slap in the face, and my enemy still lives."
My curiosity was greatly excited.
"Did you not fight with him?" I asked. "Circumstances probably separated
you."
"I did fight with him," replied Silvio; "and here is a souvenir of our
duel."
Silvio rose and took from a cardboard box a red cap with a gold tassel
and embroidery (what the French call a bonnet de police); he put it on--
a bullet had passed through it about an inch above the forehead.
"You know," continued Silvio, "that I served in one of the Hussar
regiments. My character is well known to you: I am accustomed to taking
the lead. From my youth this has been my passion. In our time
dissoluteness was the fashion, and I was the most outrageous man in the
army. We used to boast of our drunkenness; I beat in a drinking bout the
famous Bourtsoff [Footnote: A cavalry officer, notorious for his drunken
escapades], of whom Denis Davidoff [Footnote: A military poet who
flourished in the reign of Alexander I] has sung. Duels in our regiment
were constantly taking place, and in all of them I was either second or
principal. My comrades adored me, while the regimental commanders, who
were constantly being changed, looked upon me as a necessary evil.
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