At the Gritti, the colonel and Renata prepare for lunch. Renata wears her new jewel pinned to her shoulder. Renata has arranged her hair and make-up in the way “she knew he most desired” (208). They discuss the menu options with the gran maestro and drink toasts to members of the Order. Claiming that she cannot join the toast because she does not belong, Renata is thrilled by the men’s suggestion that she could be made a member. As they reaffirm their love, the colonel thinks how lucky he is “to have had this girl instead of the woman that I pay alimony to, who could not even make a child” (212).

Jackson arrives at the hotel to prepare for the colonel’s departure. After the colonel pays his hotel bill and tips the staff, Jackson readies the luggage and the portrait for the trip. Renata does not want to say goodbye, so she accompanies the colonel farther and farther along the journey. They take a boat to the edge of the lagoon; the colonel promises the boatman that he has not forgotten about the engine. He sits with Renata on a bench in the sun. He tells her that the time has come for them to say goodbye and bids farewell to his “dear, lovely, beautiful” (215).

The narrative returns to the morning of the duck shoot. The colonel waits in a sunken oak hogshead blind on a frozen Venetian lagoon. He recalls the previous evening spent with the other shooters, marked by food, drink, and exaggerated storytelling, which he accepts as a harmless pleasure unless duty is involved. He has “collected liars all his life, as some men gather postage stamps” (216). He nearly lied while drinking last night but did not.

As the shoot begins, pintails appear suddenly, and he kills both birds cleanly. He reflects briefly on the act of killing but remains focused on the moment. Widgeon then approach, drawn by a decoy duck on the ice, and the colonel rises to shoot two before they escape. He observes that restraint matters even in sport. His concentration is broken when the “sullen boatman” fires from behind, disrupting birds that were flying toward the colonel’s blind. Angered by this breach of shooting ethics, the colonel fires warning shots in the boatman’s direction to signal his awareness. Aware of his physical fragility, he takes medication and drinks gin to steady himself, knowing both are harmful. As the shooting slows, he imagines Renata beside him and successfully kills a single drake, admiring its plumage as it lies on the ice. He wishes that Renata were with him in the blind.

With no more birds flying, the colonel drifts into memory, recalling a past incident in which he fought two sailors who whistled at Renata when he was walking with her. He quickly dispatched the two younger Americans in a flurry of violence; he knew that the incident would affect his career but felt that he did the right thing. On his suggestion, he and Renata walked away slowly, as though “even the backs of [their] legs [looked] dangerous” (221). Renata asked him about violence, and he told her that if she ever fights, then she “must win it” (222). Nothing else matters, he said, quoting the German commander Erwin Rommel, whom he admired. The colonel dismissed Renata’s concern about his swollen, bruised hands.

The colonel remains alone in the duck blind as the cold intensifies and the broken ice refreezes around the decoys. With no birds flying low, he reflects on what he calls the “great miracle,” something that shaped his life without deliberate effort. He considers his failure either to create or resist it consciously. His attention shifts to the calling hen decoy, whose presence no longer draws birds, and then to Renata, whom he forces himself not to dwell on, reminding himself that they have said goodbye.

Nevertheless, he questions why she loved him, concluding that he does not fully understand it. He thinks about what he might give her, imagining practical gifts such as warm clothing or fine shotguns but then acknowledging that his material possessions are limited. He inventories his remaining assets, including his weapons, medals, books, and pension, and dismisses these as unsuitable expressions of love. The colonel determines that he could only offer “security,” which no longer exists, or his love, which is worthless.

As ducks pass overhead out of range, the colonel’s mind moves to war memories, recalling a pursuit during the Ardennes campaign when he and his closest friend advanced ahead of their unit, relying on instinct and experience rather than tactics. He reflects on his high success rate in judgment and the severe consequences of error. Aware of his failing heart and physical limits, he takes more medication and gin. Concluding that the shoot is finished and deciding that he has shot well enough, he resolves to call in the boatman and leave the blind.

The colonel signals the boatman, who approaches slowly, breaking through the ice. He collects the wooden decoys and retrieves the dead ducks while the dog slips across the ice to assist. The earlier tension between the two men has faded, replaced by a quiet, practical cooperation. The boatman remarks that the colonel shot few ducks, and the colonel responds briefly, attributing this to the boatman’s interference.

They load the ducks carefully into the boat, and the colonel climbs aboard. Together they pole through the ice toward the canal, working in steady coordination. Once they reach open water, the colonel sits down, exhausted and sweating, and hands the oar to the boatman. The dog swims ashore and disappears into the sedge, still without receiving the meat that the colonel purchased from the market.

Feeling strained, the colonel takes medication and drinks from his flask, noting the private engraving: “From R. to R.C.” (229). He offers the flask to the boatman, who drinks deeply. The boatman admits that he fired his gun in anger and regrets it. As they watch the shoreline, the dog retrieves a wounded mallard drake. The colonel determines that the bird is only wing-tipped and orders it kept alive for future use. He offers the flask again, and the boatman accepts as they continue toward home. He compliments the gin as “very, very good” (230).

At the landing beside the long stone house on the canal, the day’s kill is laid out on the ground in uneven rows. The colonel observes that his own take is small compared to the others. He explains that his post froze over, and the head gamekeeper confirms it had been expected to be the best position. He reports that Barone Alvarito was the top gun with 42 ducks, benefiting from open water and favorable conditions.

Most of the party has already left. Alvarito remains, waiting for the colonel. Jackson, the colonel is told, is asleep inside the house. The head keeper orders the ducks arranged properly for the game book and notes with approval the live, wing-tipped drake brought in for keeping. The colonel heads indoors, leaving the boatman behind.

Inside, Alvarito stands by the open fire and greets the colonel with sympathy for the poor shooting. They speak briefly about the frozen conditions and the likelihood that the ducks will move south now that their feeding areas are iced over. Alvarito asks for a ride toward Latisana, explaining that he allowed the others to take his car. The colonel agrees.

They exchange remarks about Venice and the shoot. Alvarito mentions that Jackson has eaten, slept, and passed time reading illustrated books, which the colonel identifies as comic books. Alvarito expresses interest in reading them himself. The colonel then asks about the boatman’s hostility. Alvarito explains that the man reacts badly to Allied uniforms because Moroccan troops “raped both his wife and daughter” during the liberation (233). Hearing this, the colonel asks for a drink, and Alvarito directs him to the grappa on the table.

Jackson and the colonel drop Alvarito at a villa, as requested. The grand villa, far from any military objective, was not bombed during the war. The colonel refuses the offer to come inside; he must go to Trieste, he says, and he asks Alvarito to “give [his] love to Renata” (234). In case of unforeseen circumstances, the colonel says, Alvarito should tell Renata to collect her portrait from the Gritti.

The colonel and Jackson are driving in the early darkness when the colonel orders a turn onto an older road rather than the direct route to Trieste. Jackson questions the direction and is sharply rebuked, after which the colonel apologizes and explains that he needs “to think.” As they continue, the colonel reflects on the duck shoot, noting that he managed to send some of the promised ducks to friends at the Gritti, though there were not enough feathers to be useful. He remembers forgetting to give the dog its sausage and thinks briefly of Renata, realizing that there was no time or need to write her a note after their farewell.

The colonel takes out a pad and pencil and writes a brief message, which he hands to Jackson with instructions to keep and follow if necessary. He then turns inward, reminding himself that he is no longer of real use to the army, that his relationship with Renata is finished, and that the day’s shooting is over and Alvarito understood what was asked of him. He urges himself not to worry “when there’s nothing to be done” (236).

Suddenly, he is struck by severe pain, which he recognizes as inevitable. He recalls a famous remark attributed to Stonewall Jackson about crossing the river and resting under the trees. After another attack, he orders Jackson to pull over and asks if he knows the way to Trieste. Issuing his final orders to Jackson, he says that he will climb into “the large back seat of this goddamned, over-sized luxurious automobile” (236). These are his last words.

Afterward, Jackson drives on, finds a place to turn, and reads the colonel’s written order, which directs that, in the event of his death, the painting and shotguns in the car be returned to the Hotel Gritti in Venice, to be claimed by their “rightful owner.” Jackson determines to return them as he drives away.