"Ippolit Matveyevich entered the room in slightly better spirits. "Unheard-of impudence," he exclaimed angrily. "I could hardly control myself." "Dear, dear," sympathized Ostap. "What has the modern youth come to? Terrible young people! Chase after other people's wives. Spend other people's money. Complete decadence. But tell me, does it really hurt when they hit you on the head? " "I'll challenge him to a duel!" "Fine! I can recommend a good friend of mine. He knows the duelling code by heart and has two brooms quite suitable for a struggle to the death. You can have Ivanopulo and his neighbour on the right as seconds. He's an ex-honorary citizen of the city of Kologriv and still even brags about the title. Or you can have a duel with mincing-machines — it's more elegant. Each wound is definitely fatal. The wounded adversary is automatically turned into a meat ball. How do you like the idea, Marshal?""