The Duel

Humiliated by his hysterics, Laevsky remains bent on leaving and plans to disregard the conditions of his loan. He visits Samoylenko’s, where he encounters Von Koren. Von Koren presses him about the episode, which Laevsky finds indelicate. Laevsky responds with his usual phrases about his corrupted generation, and grows angry that, while Von Koren stares at him without smiling, Laevsky is unable not to act “ingratiatingly” toward Von Koren. Laevsky’s anger mounts when Von Koren responds to his complaints by affirming that his position is hopeless, a statement he later stands by and explains as the impossibility of Laevsky’s desire to be at once honest and a scoundrel. When Samoylenko enters the room, Laevsky expresses his dismay that the doctor has shared his personal confidences with Von Koren, and Samoylenko is angered by the attack but tries to calm himself.

Laevsky continues his complaints about the sense that his soul is being pried into—as indeed it is by Von Koren, who fancies himself not just a zoologist but a sociologist, meaning an investigator of the human species as well as animals. But it is Samoylenko to whom these complaints are directed and who is indignant at the word “spy.” Laevsky continues his abuses, hurling an antisemitic insult that is indirectly intended for Von Koren, who challenges him to a duel.

Leaving Samoylenko’s, Laevsky pities himself, intensifies his contempt for the town from which he seeks escape, and dreads not only the duel but his own self- deception—that is, his life as well as possible death. He asks an acquaintance to be his second in the duel and, upon returning home, is intercepted by Atchmianov, who leads him to discover Nadyezhda Fyodorovna in her affair with Kirilin. Upon his discovery, Laevsky becomes distraught.

Meanwhile Von Koren discusses the inefficiency of Christian ethics with the deacon, arguing that moral law must be enforced and that the exact sciences show an effectual definition of love as “the strong overcoming the weak.” When Samoylenko enters, Von Koren assures him that no one will take aim in the duel, not least of all to avoid arrest, given dueling’s illegality.

Chapter 17 begins with a quote from a famous poem by Alexander Pushkin called “Insomnia,” whose lines describe the futile desire to erase one’s own past. Such is Laevsky’s sleepless night before the duel, during which he blames himself for the ruin of Nadyezhda Fyodorovna and comes to terms with his own responsibility—feeling at first awkward in his body, given the strangeness of a completely new outlook that is dawning upon him. Verifying the earlier sense of his childishness, he begins to write a letter to his mother before realizing that only he can solve his problems.

A storm rages outside, and Laevsky begins to reflect that he has never saved a life nor helped anything to grow, nor “taken […] part in the common life of men” (230). He feels his responsibility to Nadyezhda Fyodorovna, recognizing that she had only been trying to fill a pitiable life with the falsity in which he and other men had entangled her. He seeks her forgiveness but fears her as his victim. He sees clearly the roles of the other characters in the story and in his life, “Samoylenko’s kindness, the deacon’s laughter, Von Koren’s hatred,” and determines that none of this can save him (233). At dawn he bids farewell to Nadyezhda Fyodorovna and, when she awakens in tears, he realizes his attachment to her.

On the morning of the duel, the deacon sneaks out to bear witness to it, worried that he will be caught, since his orders forbid such a witnessing. Although he weighs the piety of his position, he is ultimately driven by the mirth he will feel in observing the ridiculous scene and hearing its recounting from Von Koren. The deacon reflects on the comfort of the duelers compared to his own upbringing, convinced that, were they to have material struggles, they would not seek such minor faults in one another but turn their attention to worse problems. When Laevsky appears on the scene, the deacon recognizes even from afar his changed countenance.

Von Koren, upon arriving, basks in the natural beauty of the mountains at dawn. Laevsky feels detached, eager to be killed or taken home. The company realizes, to Von Koren’s amusement, that they do not know the rules of dueling except from literary scenes. The seconds notice Laevsky’s demeanor, one of them surmising the cause in Nadyezhda Fyodorovna’s infidelity, which had been shared with them by Kirilin. They implore Von Koren to call off the duel, but he refuses. Watching from his post, the deacon recalls moles doing battle as Von Koren had described it. Laevsky aims his pistol high above Von Koren’s head, realizing he could never bear to murder anybody. Unwounded, Von Koren takes aim at Laevsky with murderous intent but is interrupted by the shouts of the hidden deacon. Kerbalay the Tartar, offers the company—excepting Laevsky, who has departed—breakfast. Kerbalay enters a brief theological discussion with the deacon, insisting that his Islamic God is in fact the same as the deacon’s, and that such talk of differences is insignificant.

Laevsky feels himself to have been reborn, his past finally left behind. Ironically, the feeling induces in him the responsibility that he had for so long avoided. He sees his ordinary home in a new light and embraces Nadyezhda Fyodorovna, who confesses to him, although he does not judge her but rather feels himself bound to her in love.

Three months pass until Von Koren is due to leave the Caucauses on a scientific and ethnographic expedition. On his way to the steamer, he glances in the windows of Laevsky’s house and is encouraged by Samoylenko, who is accompanying him, to enter in order to bid Laevsky farewell. Samoylenko relays that Laevsky has been living like a beggar and working hard to pay off his debts. Von Koren had wished to tell Laevsky that he is, in fact, full of admiration for him and Nadyezhda Fyodorovna, but he cannot say as much to him in person. What he does say is to forgive him for past insults, excusing himself with the idea that it’s impossible to really know a person, that “nobody knows the real truth” (270). Laevsky repeats the phrase and rushes out to see the steamer depart, repeating the phrase twice more and reflecting on boats tossing about in the sea as a metaphor for life: Mistakes are made, as when the boat is pulled back, but the boat carries on with its course none the less, and perhaps someday reaches its goal, which is, in Laevsky’s mind, truth itself.