Suddenly Aglaya came out on the terrace; she looked calm, though somewhat pale.
Seeing the prince, whom she "obviously wasn't expecting" to meet there, sitting on a chair in the corner, Aglaya smiled as if in perplexity.
"What are you doing here?" she went over to him.
The prince murmured something in embarrassment and jumped up from his chair; but Aglaya at once sat down next to him, and he sat down again.
She looked him over, suddenly but attentively, then looked out the window, as if without any thought, then again at him.
"Maybe she wants to laugh," it occurred to the prince, "but no, she'd just laugh then."
"Maybe you'd like some tea. I'll tell them," she said after some silence.
"N-no ... I don't know . . ."
"Well, how can you not know that!
Ah, yes, listen: if someone challenged you to a duel, what would you do?
I meant to ask you earlier."
"But . . . who ... no one is going to challenge me to a duel."
"Well, but if someone did?
Would you be very afraid?"
"I think I'd be very . . . afraid."
"Seriously?
So you're a coward?"
"N-no, maybe not.
A coward is someone who is afraid and runs away; but someone who is afraid but doesn't run away is not a coward yet," the prince smiled after pondering a little.
"And you wouldn't run away?"
"Maybe I wouldn't," he finally laughed at Aglaya's questions.
"I'm a woman, but I wouldn't run away for anything," she observed, almost touchily.
"And, anyhow, you're clowning and making fun of me in your usual way, to make yourself more interesting. Tell me: don't they usually shoot from twelve paces?
Sometimes even from ten?
Doesn't that mean you're sure to be killed or wounded?"
"People must rarely be hit at duels."
"Rarely?
Pushkin was killed."5
"That may have been accidental."
"Not accidental at all. They fought to kill and he was killed."
"The bullet struck so low that d'Anthes must have been aiming somewhere higher, at his chest or head; no one aims to hit a man where he did, so the bullet most likely hit Pushkin accidentally, from a bad shot.
Competent people have told me so."
"But I was told by a soldier I once talked with that, according to regulations, when they open ranks, they're ordered to aim on purpose at the half-man; that's how they say it: 'at the half-man.'
That means not at the chest, not at the head, but they're ordered to aim on purpose at the half-man.
Later I asked an officer, and he said that was exactly right."
"It's right because they shoot from a great distance."
"And do you know how to shoot?"
"I've never done it."
"Do you at least know how to load a pistol?"
"No, I don't.
That is, I understand how it's done, but I've never loaded one myself."
"Well, that means you don't know how, because it takes practice!
Listen now and learn well: first, buy good gunpowder, not damp (they say it mustn't be damp, but very dry), the fine sort, you can ask about it, but not the kind used for cannons.
They say you have to mold the bullet yourself.
Do you have pistols?"
"No, and I don't need any," the prince suddenly laughed.
"Ah, what nonsense! You must certainly buy one, a good one, French or English, they say they're the best.
Then take some powder, a thimbleful or maybe two thimblefuls, and pour it in.
Better put in more.
Ram it down with felt (they say it absolutely must be felt for some reason), you can get that somewhere, from some mattress, or doors are sometimes upholstered with felt.