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- Стр. 355/1273
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The
spot
chosen
for
the
duel
was
some
eighty
paces
from
the
road
,
where
the
sleighs
had
been
left
,
in
a
small
clearing
in
the
pine
forest
covered
with
melting
snow
,
the
frost
having
begun
to
break
up
during
the
last
few
days
.
The
antagonists
stood
forty
paces
apart
at
the
farther
edge
of
the
clearing
.
The
seconds
,
measuring
the
paces
,
left
tracks
in
the
deep
wet
snow
between
the
place
where
they
had
been
standing
and
Nesvítski
's
and
Dólokhov
's
sabers
,
which
were
stuck
into
the
ground
ten
paces
apart
to
mark
the
barrier
.
It
was
thawing
and
misty
;
at
forty
paces
'
distance
nothing
could
be
seen
.
For
three
minutes
all
had
been
ready
,
but
they
still
delayed
and
all
were
silent
.
"
Well
,
begin
!
"
said
Dólokhov
.
"
All
right
,
"
said
Pierre
,
still
smiling
in
the
same
way
.
A
feeling
of
dread
was
in
the
air
.
It
was
evident
that
the
affair
so
lightly
begun
could
no
longer
be
averted
but
was
taking
its
course
independently
of
men
's
will
.
Denísov
first
went
to
the
barrier
and
announced
:
"
As
the
adve
's
awies
have
wefused
a
weconciliation
,
please
pwoceed
.
Take
your
pistols
,
and
at
the
word
thwee
begin
to
advance
.
"
O-ne
!
T-wo
!
Thwee
!
"
he
shouted
angrily
and
stepped
aside
.
The
combatants
advanced
along
the
trodden
tracks
,
nearer
and
nearer
to
one
another
,
beginning
to
see
one
another
through
the
mist
.
They
had
the
right
to
fire
when
they
liked
as
they
approached
the
barrier
.
Dólokhov
walked
slowly
without
raising
his
pistol
,
looking
intently
with
his
bright
,
sparkling
blue
eyes
into
his
antagonist
's
face
.
His
mouth
wore
its
usual
semblance
of
a
smile
.
"
So
I
can
fire
when
I
like
!
"
said
Pierre
,
and
at
the
word
"
three
,
"
he
went
quickly
forward
,
missing
the
trodden
path
and
stepping
into
the
deep
snow
.
He
held
the
pistol
in
his
right
hand
at
arm
's
length
,
apparently
afraid
of
shooting
himself
with
it
.
His
left
hand
he
held
carefully
back
,
because
he
wished
to
support
his
right
hand
with
it
and
knew
he
must
not
do
so
.
Having
advanced
six
paces
and
strayed
off
the
track
into
the
snow
,
Pierre
looked
down
at
his
feet
,
then
quickly
glanced
at
Dólokhov
and
,
bending
his
finger
as
he
had
been
shown
,
fired
.
Not
at
all
expecting
so
loud
a
report
,
Pierre
shuddered
at
the
sound
and
then
,
smiling
at
his
own
sensations
,
stood
still
.
The
smoke
,
rendered
denser
by
the
mist
,
prevented
him
from
seeing
anything
for
an
instant
,
but
there
was
no
second
report
as
he
had
expected
.
He
only
heard
Dólokhov
's
hurried
steps
,
and
his
figure
came
in
view
through
the
smoke
.
He
was
pressing
one
hand
to
his
left
side
,
while
the
other
clutched
his
drooping
pistol
.
His
face
was
pale
.
Rostóv
ran
toward
him
and
said
something
.
"
No-o-o
!
"
muttered
Dólokhov
through
his
teeth
,
"
no
,
it
's
not
over
.
"
And
after
stumbling
a
few
staggering
steps
right
up
to
the
saber
,
he
sank
on
the
snow
beside
it
.
His
left
hand
was
bloody
;
he
wiped
it
on
his
coat
and
supported
himself
with
it
.
His
frowning
face
was
pallid
and
quivered
.
"
Plea
...
"
began
Dólokhov
,
but
could
not
at
first
pronounce
the
word
.
