He hoped to be first in this contest after the rigorist, who had easily lifted in the air and set down again both Dmitri Sergéitch and the officer together; for this feat aroused no ambition either in the officer or Dmitri Sergéitch. The rigorist was a recognized athlete, but Dmitri Sergéitch did not care to endure the affront of not being able to defeat the officer. Half a dozen times they grasped each other, and each time the officer floored him though not without difficulty. After the sixth wrestling bout, Dmitri Sergéitch owned himself undoubtedly the weaker of the two. They were both exhausted. The three thinkers threw themselves on the grass. They continued the dispute, and now Dmitri Sergéitch recognized the value of Auguste Comteism and the officer of schematism, but the rigorist remained as before, a rigorist.

They went home at eleven o’clock. The old women and children fell asleep in the boats (it was a good thing that they had plenty of warm wraps with them); but all the rest talked without ceasing and in all the six boats there was no interruption to the jokes and laughter.

VII

Two days later at morning tea, Viéra Pavlovna remarked to her husband that she did not like the color of his face. He said that he had not slept well the night before and that he had not felt well since evening, but it was of no consequence. He had caught a little cold at the picnic; of course during the time when he had been lying on the ground after their running and wrestling. He gave himself a little scolding for his carelessness, but he assured Viéra Pavlovna that it was a mere nothing, and he went to his business as usual; and at supper he said that apparently his ill turn had entirely passed, but on the following morning he said that he would have to stay at home for some time. Viéra Pavlovna, who had been greatly worried since the day before, became seriously frightened now and insisted on Dmitri Sergéitch calling a doctor.

“But I myself am a doctor, and can heal myself, if it is necessary; but, as yet, there is no need of doing anything,” said Dmitri Sergéitch, trying to smooth it off. But Viéra Pavlovna was inflexible, and so he wrote a note to Kirsánof, adding that his illness was trifling, and that he asked him to call, simply to please his wife.

Therefore, Kirsánof did not make haste; he stayed at the hospital till dinner time, and called at the Lopukhófs at six o’clock in the evening.

“Well, Aleksandr, I did well to call you,” said Lopukhóf; “there is no danger, and I don’t think that there is going to be any; but I have inflammation of the lungs. Of course I could have cured myself without your aid, but for all that, please take my case in hand. It cannot be helped; it is necessary to satisfy my conscience; you see, I am not a bachelor, as you are.”

They made a long examination of the lung; Kirsánof sounded his chest, and they both agreed that Lopukhóf was not mistaken; there was no danger, and, in all probability, there would be none. But the inflammation of the lung was severe. It would be necessary for him to stay in the house for ten days, Lopukhóf for some time having neglected his illness, but yet it could be cured.

Kirsánof had to have a long talk with Viéra Pavlovna, to quiet her alarm. Finally she was convinced that they were not deceiving her; that, in all probability, the illness was not only not serious, but not even difficult; but this was only “in all probability”; but are there not contingencies which arise contrary to all probability?

Kirsánof began to call twice a day on the sick man; they both saw that the illness was without complications, and not dangerous. On the fourth morning, Kirsánof said to Viéra Pavlovna:⁠—

“Dmitri is all right; everything is going well with him; for three or four days more it may be hard, but it will not be more severe than it is today, and then he will begin to gain. But I want to talk seriously about you yourself, Viéra Pavlovna. You do not act wisely, in sitting up all night; he does not need a nurse; he does not even need me. But you may harm yourself, all for nothing. Your nerves are already very much unstrung.”

For a long time he tried to reason with Viéra Pavlovna, but without avail. “I know it’s nothing,” and, “There’s no reason in it,” and “I should be glad to, but I cannot,”⁠—that is, glad to sleep in the nighttime, and leave her husband without a watcher. Finally she said: “All that you are telling me now, he has already told me many times, as you know well. Of course, I would have listened to him sooner than to you; consequently, I can’t.”

Against such an argument there is no disputing. Kirsánof shook his head and went away.

He came to see the sick man at ten o’clock, that evening, and sat by his bedside, together with Viéra Pavlovna, for half an hour, and then he said: “Now, Viéra Pavlovna, go and get some rest. We both ask you to. I am going to stay here tonight.”

Viéra Pavlovna hesitated; she herself knew, or more than half knew, that it was not necessary to sit all night beside the sick man, and here she is compelling Kirsánof, who is a busy man, to waste his time. And what was it in reality? “It apparently is not necessary”; apparently, but who knows? No; it is impossible to leave the mílenki alone! Who knows what might happen? He may want a drink, he may want tea; he is so delicate, he will not wake up; consequently, it is impossible not to sit by his side. But it is not necessary for Kirsánof; she will not allow

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