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In this storm of feelings, like an anchor of rest there suddenly

flashed upon him the thought of the duel. "I must slay the Count,

the scoundrel!" he cried, "I must perish or be avenged!" But for

what? That he did not know himself. And that great burst of

anger, as it had come over him in the twinkling of an eye, so it

vanished away; he was seized anew by a deep sadness. He meditated

whether his observation might not be true, that the Count and

Zosia had some mutual understanding. "And what of that? Perhaps

the Count sincerely loves Zosia; perhaps she loves him, and will

choose him for her husband! By what right could I desire to break

off that marriage; and, unhappy myself, to destroy the happiness

of every one?"

He fell into despair and saw no other means except speedy flight.

Whither? To the grave!