Another second passed⁠—a second during which a whole world of feelings, thoughts, hopes, and memories flashed before his imagination.

“Whom will it kill⁠—Miháylof or me? Or both of us? And if it’s me, where? In the head? then I’m done for; and if in the leg, they’ll cut it off (I’ll certainly ask for chloroform), and I may survive it. But perhaps only Miháylof will be killed; then I shall relate how we were going side by side, and how he was killed, and I was splashed with his blood. No, it’s nearer to me⁠ ⁠… it will be I.”