The fat man got up and heaved a sigh.
'You are going to him? 'I asked.
'Yes, I must have a look at him.'
And he went out.
I did not follow him; to see him at the bedside of my poor, sick friend was more than I could stand. I called my man and gave him orders to drive at once to the chief town of the province, to inquire there for the best doctor, and to bring him without fail. There was a slight noise in the passage. I opened the door quickly.
The doctor was already coming out of Pasinkov's room.
'Well?' I questioned him in a whisper.
'It's all right. I have prescribed a mixture.'
'I have decided, doctor, to send to the chief town. I have no doubt of your skill, but as you're aware, two heads are better than one.'
'Well, that's very praiseworthy!' responded the fat man, and he began to descend the staircase. He was obviously tired of me.
I went in to Pasinkov.
'Have you seen the local Aesculapius?' he asked.
'Yes,' I answered.
'What I like about him,' remarked Pasinkov, 'is his astounding composure. A doctor ought to be phlegmatic, oughtn't he? It's so encouraging for the patient.'
I did not, of course, try to controvert this.
Towards the evening, Pasinkov, contrary to my expectations, seemed better. He asked Elisei to set the samovar, announced that he was going to regale me with tea, and drink a small cup himself, and he was noticeably more cheerful. I tried, though, not to let him talk, and seeing that he would not be quiet, I asked him if he would like me to read him something. 'Just as at Winterkeller's—do you remember?' he answered. 'If you will, I shall be delighted. What shall we read? Look, there are my books in the window.'…
I went to the window and took up the first book that my hand chanced upon….
'What is it?' he asked.
'Lermontov.'
'Ah, Lermontov! Excellent! Pushkin is greater, no doubt…. Do you remember: 'Once more the storm-clouds gather close Above me in the perfect calm' … or, 'For the last time thy image sweet in thought I dare caress.' Ah! marvellous! marvellous! But Lermontov's fine too. Well, I'll tell you what, dear boy: you take the book, open it by chance, and read what you find!'
I opened the book, and was disconcerted; I had chanced upon 'The Last Will.' I tried to turn over the page, but Pasinkov noticed my action and said hurriedly: 'No, no, no, read what turned up.'
There was no getting out of it; I read 'The Last Will.'
[Footnote: THE LAST WILL
Alone with thee, brother,
I would wish to be;
On earth, so they tell me,
I have not long to stay,
Soon you will go home:
See that … But nay! for my fate
To speak the truth, no one
Is very greatly troubled.
But if any one asks …
Well, whoever may ask,
Tell them that through the breast
I was shot by a bullet;
That I died honourably for the Tsar,
That our doctors are not much good,
And that to my native land
I send a humble greeting.
My father and mother, hardly
Will you find living….
I'll own I should be sorry
That they should grieve for me.]
'Splendid thing!' said Pasinkov, directly I had finished the last verse. 'Splendid thing!
But, it's queer,' he added, after a brief pause, 'it's queer you should have chanced just on that…. Queer.'
I began to read another poem, but Pasinkov was not listening to me; he looked away, and twice he repeated again: 'Queer!'
I let the book drop on my knees.
''There is a girl, their neighbour,'' he whispered, and turning to me he asked—'I say, do you remember Sophia Zlotnitsky?'
I turned red.
'I should think I did!'
'She was married, I suppose?…'
'To Asanov, long, long ago. I wrote to you about it.'
* * * * *
But if either of them is living,
Say I am lazy about writing,
That our regiment has been sent forward,
And that they must not expect me home.
There is a girl, their neighbour….
