I snatch up the
most necessary drugs, and set off.
most necessary drugs, and set off.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v21 to v25 - Rab to Tur
I loved you!
There was no
## p. 15075 (#663) ##########################################
IVAN TURGENEFF
15075
sense in that even before, and less than ever now. Love is a
form, and my own form is already breaking up. Better say how
lovely you are! And now here you stand, so beautiful-» Anna
Sergyevna gave an involuntary shudder. "Never mind, don't be
uneasy. Sit down there. Don't come close to me: you know my
illness is catching. "
Anna Sergyevna swiftly crossed the room, and sat down in
the arm-chair near the sofa on which Bazarov was lying.
"Noble-hearted! " he whispered. "Oh, how near, and how
young, and fresh, and pure—in this loathsome room! Well, good-
by! live long,-that's the best of all,-and make the most of it
while there is time. You see what a hideous spectacle: the worm
half crushed, but writhing still. And you see, I thought too, I'd
break down so many things: I wouldn't die- why should I! -
there were problems to solve, and I was a giant! And now all
the problem for the giant is, how to die decently-though that
makes no difference to any one either. Never mind: I'm not
going to turn tail. ”
Bazarov was silent, and began feeling with his hand for the
glass. Anna Sergyevna gave him some drink: not taking off her
glove, and drawing her breath timorously.
"You will forget me," he began again: "the dead's no com-
panion for the living. My father will tell you what a man Rus-
sia is losing. That's nonsense, but don't contradict the old man.
Whatever toy will comfort the child-you know. And be kind
to mother. People like them aren't to be found in your great
world if you look by daylight with a candle. I was needed by
Russia. No, it's clear, I wasn't needed. And who is needed?
The shoemaker's needed, the tailor's needed, the butcher - gives
us meat - the butcher wait a little, I'm getting mixed. There's
a forest here — "
Bazarov put his hand to his brow.
Anna Sergyevna bent down to him.
am here- »
―
―――――
"Yevgeny Vassilyitch, I
He at once took his hand away, and raised himself.
"Good-bye," he said with sudden force, and his eyes gleamed.
with their last light. "Good-bye. Listen-you know I didn't
kiss you then. Breathe on the dying lamp, and let it go out. "
Anna Sergyevna put her lips to his forehead.
"Enough! " he murmured, and dropped back on to the pillow.
"Now-darkness — "
## p. 15076 (#664) ##########################################
15076
IVAN TURGENEFF
Anna Sergyevna went softly out. "Well? " Vassily Ivano-
vitch asked her in a whisper.
"He has fallen asleep," she answered, scarce audibly. Baza-
rov was not fated to awaken.
Towards evening he sank into
complete unconsciousness, and the following day he died. Father
Alexey performed the last rites of religion over him. When they
anointed him with the last unction, when the holy oil touched his
breast, one eye opened; and it seemed as though at the sight of
the priest in his vestments, the smoking censers, the light before
the image, something like a shudder of horror passed over the
death-stricken face. When at last he had breathed his last, and
there arose a universal lamentation in the house, Vassily Ivan-
ovitch was seized by a sudden frenzy. "I said I should rebel,"
he shrieked hoarsely, with his face inflamed and distorted, shak-
ing his fist in the air, as though threatening some one; "and I
rebel, I rebel! " But Arina Vlasyevna, all in tears, hung upon
his neck, and both fell on their faces together.
"Side by
side,” Anfisushka related afterwards in the servants' room, "they
drooped their poor heads like lambs at noonday. "
But the heat of noonday passes, and evening comes and night;
and then too the return to the kindly refuge, where sleep is
sweet for the weary and heavy-laden.
LAVRETSKY
From A House of Gentlefolk
Α
ND SO-eight years have passed by. Once more the breezes
of spring breathed brightness and rejoicing from the heav-
ens; once more spring was smiling upon the earth and
upon men; once more under her caresses everything was turning
to blossom, to love, to song. The town of O- had undergone
little change in the course of these eight years: but Marfa
Dmitrievna's house seemed to have grown younger; its freshly
painted walls gave a bright welcome, and the panes of its open
windows were crimson, shining in the setting sun; from these
windows the light merry sound of ringing young voices and con-
tinual laughter floated into the street; the whole house seemed
astir with life and brimming over with gayety. The lady of the
house herself had long been in her tomb; Marya Dmitrievna had
## p. 15077 (#665) ##########################################
IVAN TURGENEFF
15077
died two years after Lisa took the veil, and Marfa Timofyevna
had not long survived her niece; they lay side by side in the
cemetery of the town. Nastasya Karpovna too was no more. For
several years the faithful old woman had gone every week to say
a prayer over her friend's ashes: her time had come, and now
her bones too lay in the damp earth. But Marya Dmitrievna's
house had not passed into strangers' hands; it had not gone out
of her family; the home had not been broken up. Lenotchka,
transformed into a slim, beautiful young girl; and her betrothed
lover, a fair-haired officer of hussars; Marya Dmitrievna's son,
who had just been married in Petersburg and had come with his
young wife for the spring to O—; his wife's sister, a school-
girl of sixteen, with glowing cheeks and bright eyes; Shurotchka,
grown up and also pretty,-made up the youthful household,
whose laughter and talk set the walls of the Kalitins's house
resounding. Everything in the house was changed; everything
was in keeping with its new inhabitants. Beardless servant lads,
grinning and full of fun, had replaced the sober old servants of
former days. Two setter dogs dashed wildly about and gamboled
over the sofas, where the fat Roska had at one time waddled
in solemn dignity. The stables were filled with slender racers,
spirited carriage horses, fiery outriders with plaited manes, and
riding-horses from the Don. The breakfast, dinner, and supper
hours were all in confusion and disorder; in the words of the
neighbors, "unheard-of arrangements" were made.
On the evening of which we are speaking, the inhabitants of
the Kalitins's house (the eldest of them, Lenotchka's betrothed,
was only twenty-four) were engaged in a game, which, though
not of a very complicated nature, was, to judge from their merry
laughter, exceedingly entertaining to them,- they were running
about the rooms chasing one another; the dogs too were running
and barking; and the canaries, hanging in cages above the win-
dows, were straining their throats in rivalry, and adding to the
general uproar by the shrill trilling of their piercing notes. At the
very height of this deafening merry-making, a mud-bespattered
carriage stopped at the gate; and a man of five-and-forty, in a
traveling dress, stepped out of it, and stood still in amazement.
He stood a little time without stirring, watching the house with
attentive eyes; then went through the little gate in the court-
yard, and slowly mounted the steps. In the hall he met no one:
but the door of a room was suddenly flung open, and out of it
## p. 15078 (#666) ##########################################
15078
IVAN TURGENEFF
rushed Shurotchka, flushed and hot; and instantly, with a ring-
ing shout, all the young party in pursuit of her. They stopped
short at once, and were quiet, at the sight of a stranger; but
their clear eyes fixed on him wore the same friendly expression,
and their fresh faces were still smiling as Marya Dmitrievna's
son went up to the visitor, and asked him cordially what he could
do for him.
"I am Lavretsky," replied the visitor.
He was answered by a shout of friendliness; and not because
these young people were greatly delighted at the arrival of a dis-
tant, almost forgotten, relation, but simply because they were
ready to be delighted and make a noise at every opportunity.
They surrounded Lavretsky at once; Lenotchka, as an old ac-
quaintance, was the first to call him by his name, and assured
him that in a little while she would certainly have recognized
him. She presented him to the rest of the party, calling each,
even her betrothed, by their pet names. They all trooped through
the dining-room into the drawing-room. The walls of both
rooms had been repapered; but the furniture remained the same.
Lavretsky recognized the piano; even the embroidery frame in
the window was just the same, and in the same position, and it
seemed with the same unfinished embroidery on it, as eight years
ago.
They made him sit down in a comfortable arm-chair; all sat
down politely in a circle round him. Questions, exclamations, and
anecdotes followed.
"It's a long time since we have seen you," observed Le-
notchka simply, "and Varvara Pavlovna we have seen nothing
of either. "
"Well, no wonder! " her brother hastened to interpose: "I car-
ried you off to Petersburg, and Fedor Ivan'itch has been living
all the time in the country. "
"Yes, and mamma died soon after then. "
"And Marfa Timofyevna," observed Shurotchka.
"And Nastasya Karpovna," added Lenotchka, "and Monsieur
Lemm. "
"What? is Lemm dead? " inquired Lavretsky.
"Yes," replied young Kalitin, "he left here for Odessa - they
say some one enticed him there; and there he died. "
"You don't happen to know-did he leave any music?
"I don't know; not very likely. "
## p. 15079 (#667) ##########################################
IVAN TURGENEFF
15079
A slight cloud of
All were silent and looked about them.
melancholy flitted over all the young faces.
"But Matross is alive," said Lenotchka suddenly.
"And Gedeonovsky," added her brother.
At Gedeonovsky's name a merry laugh broke out at once.
"Yes, he is alive, and as great a liar as ever," Marya Dmi-
trievna's son continued; "and only fancy, yesterday this madcap "
-pointing to the schoolgirl, his wife's sister-"put some pepper
in his snuff-box. "
"How he did sneeze! " cried Lenotchka; and again there was
a burst of unrestrained laughter.
"We have had news of Lisa lately," observed young Kalitin,
and again a hush fell upon all: "there was good news of her;
she is recovering her health a little now. "
"She is still in the same convent? " Lavretsky asked, not
without some effort.
"Yes, still in the same. "
"Does she write to you? "
<< No, never; but we get news through other people. "
A sudden and profound silence followed. "A good angel is
passing by," all were thinking.
"Wouldn't you like to go into the garden? " said Kalitin,
turning to Lavretsky: "it is very nice now, though we have let
it run wild a little. "
___________
Lavretsky went out into the garden, and the first thing that
met his eyes was the very garden seat on which he had once
spent with Lisa those few blissful moments, never repeated. It
had grown black and warped; but he recognized it, and his soul
was filled with that emotion unequaled for sweetness and for
bitterness, the emotion of keen sorrow for vanished youth, for
the happiness which has once been possessed. He walked along
the avenues with the young people: the lime-trees looked hardly
older or taller in the eight years, but their shade was thicker; on
the other hand, all the bushes had sprung up, the raspberry
bushes had grown strong, the hazels were a tangled thicket, and
from all sides rose the fresh scent of the trees and grass and
lilac.
"This would be a nice place for Puss-in-the-Corner," cried
Lenotchka suddenly, as they came upon a small green lawn, sur-
rounded by lime-trees; "and we are just five, too. "
"Have you forgotten Fedor Ivan'itch? " replied her brother,
"or didn't you count yourself? "
## p. 15080 (#668) ##########################################
15080
IVAN TURGENEFF
Lenotchka blushed slightly.
she began.
"But would Fedor Ivan'itch, at his age-
"Please play your games," Lavretsky hastened to interpose;
"don't pay attention to me. I shall be happier myself when I
am sure I am not in your way. And there's no need for you to
entertain me: we old fellows have an occupation you know noth-
ing of yet, and which no amusement can replace—our memories. »
The young people listened to Lavretsky with polite but rather
ironical respect,- as though a teacher were giving them a les-
son, and suddenly they all dispersed and ran to the lawn; four
stood near trees, one in the middle, and the game began.
And Lavretsky went back into the house, went into the dining-
room, drew near the piano and touched one of the keys; it gave
out a faint but clear sound: on that note had begun the inspired
melody with which long ago on that same happy night Lemm,
the dead Lemm, had thrown him into such transports. Then
Lavretsky went into the drawing-room, and for a long time he did
not leave it: in that room where he had so often seen Lisa, her
image rose most vividly before him; he seemed to feel the traces
of her presence round him: but his grief for her was crushing,
not easy to bear, it had none of the peace which comes with
death. Lisa still lived somewhere, hidden and afar; he thought
of her as of the living, but he did not recognize the girl he had
once loved in that dim, pale shadow, cloaked in a nun's dress
and encircled in misty clouds of incense. Lavretsky would not
have recognized himself, could he have looked at himself as
mentally he looked at Lisa. In the course of these eight years
he had passed that turning-point in life which many never pass,
but without which no one can be a good man to the end: he
had really ceased to think of his own happiness, of his personal
aims. He had grown calm, and-why hide the truth? - he had
grown old not only in face and in body, he had grown old in
heart. To keep a young heart up to old age, as some say, is
not only difficult, but almost ridiculous: he may well be content
who has not lost his belief in goodness, his steadfast will, and
his zeal for work. Lavretsky had good reason to be content: he
had become actually an excellent farmer, he had really learnt to
cultivate the land, and his labors were not only for himself,—
he had, to the best of his powers, secured on a firm basis the
welfare of his peasants.
-
Lavretsky went out of the house into the garden, and sat
down on the familiar garden seat. And on this loved spot, facing
## p. 15081 (#669) ##########################################
IVAN TURGENEFF
15081
the house where for the last time he had vainly stretched out
his hand for the enchanted cup which frothed and sparkled with
the golden wine of delight, he, a solitary homeless wanderer,
looked back upon his life; while the joyous shouts of the younger
generation, who were already filling his place, floated across the
garden to him. His heart was sad, but not weighed down nor
bitter: much there was to regret, nothing to be ashamed of.
"Play away, be gay, grow strong, vigorous youth! " he
thought—and there was no bitterness in his meditations: "your
life is before you, and for you life will be easier; you have
not, as we had, to find out a path for yourselves, to struggle, to
fall, and to rise again in the dark; we had enough to do to last
out, and how many of us did not last out? - but you need
only do your duty, work away, and the blessing of an old man
be with you. For me, after to-day, after these emotions, there
remains to take my leave at last; and though sadly, without
envy, without any dark feelings, to say, in sight of the end, in
sight of God who awaits me: 'Welcome, lonely old age! burn
out, useless life! '»
-
Lavretsky quietly rose and quietly went away; no one noticed
him, no one detained him: the joyous cries sounded more loudly
in the garden behind the thick green wall of high lime-trees.
He took his seat in the carriage, and bade the coachman drive
home, and not hurry the horses.
"And the end? " perhaps the dissatisfied reader will inquire.
"What became of Lavretsky afterwards, and of Lisa? " But
what is there to tell of people who, though still alive, have
withdrawn from the battle-field of life? They say Lavretsky
visited that remote convent where Lisa had hidden herself — that
he saw her. Crossing over from choir to choir, she walked close
past him, moving with the even, hurried, but meek walk of a
nun: and she did not glance at him; only the eyelashes on the
side towards him quivered a little, only she bent her emaciated
face lower, and the fingers of her clasped hands, entwined with
her rosary, were pressed still closer to one another. What were
they both thinking, what were they feeling? Who can know?
who can say? There are such moments in life, there are such
feelings. One can but point to them-and pass them by.
## p. 15082 (#670) ##########################################
15082
IVAN TURGENEFF
THE DISTRICT DOCTOR
From A Sportsman's Sketches'
Ο
NE day in autumn, on my way back from a remote part
of the country, I caught cold and fell ill. Fortunately the
fever attacked me in the district town, at the inn; I sent
for the doctor. In half an hour the district doctor appeared,-
a thin, dark-haired man of middle height. He prescribed me the
usual sudorific; ordered a mustard plaster to be put on; very
deftly slid a five-rouble note up his sleeve, coughing dryly and
looking away as he did so: and then was getting up to go home,
but somehow fell into talk and remained. I was exhausted with
feverishness; I foresaw a sleepless night, and was glad of a little
chat with a pleasant companion. Tea was served. My doctor
began to converse freely. He was a sensible fellow, and expressed
himself with vigor and some humor. Queer things happen in
the world: you may live a long while with some people, and be
on friendly terms with them, and never once speak openly with
them from your soul; with others you have scarcely time to get
acquainted, and all at once you are pouring out to him or he
to you
all your secrets, as though you were at confession.
don't know how I gained the confidence of my new friend: any-
way, with nothing to lead up to it, he told me a rather curi-
ous incident; and here I will report his tale for the information
of the indulgent reader. I will try to tell it in the doctor's own
words.
I
-
"You don't happen to know," he began in a weak and quaver-
ing voice (the common result of the use of unmixed Berezov
snuff), "you don't happen to know the judge here, Mylov—
Pavel Lukitch? You don't know him? Well, it's all the same. "
(He cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes. ) "Well, you see,
the thing happened, to tell you exactly without mistake, in Lent,
at the very time of the thaws. I was sitting at his house-our
judge's, you know-playing preference. Our judge is a good
fellow, and fond of playing preference. Suddenly" (the doc-
tor made frequent use of this word "suddenly ") "they tell me,
'There's a servant asking for you. ' I say, 'What does he want? '
They say, 'He has brought a note-it must be from a patient. '
'Give me the note,' I say. So it is from a patient-well and
good; you understand - it's our bread and butter.
## p. 15083 (#671) ##########################################
IVAN TURGENEFF
15083
"But this is how it was: a lady, a widow, writes to me; she
says, 'My daughter is dying. Come, for God's sake! ' she says;
'and the horses have been sent for you. ' Well, that's all right.
But she was twenty miles from the town, and it was midnight
out of doors, and the roads in such a state-my word! And as
she was poor herself, one could not expect more than two silver
roubles, and even that problematic; and perhaps it might only be
a matter of a roll of linen and a sack of oatmeal in payment.
However, duty, you know, before everything: a fellow-creature
may be dying. I hand over my cards at once to Kalliopin, the
member of the provincial commission, and return home. I look:
a wretched little trap was standing at the steps, with peasant's
horses, fat-too fat-and their coat as shaggy as felt; and the
coachman sitting with his cap off out of respect. Well, I think
to myself, 'It's clear, my friend, these patients aren't rolling in
riches. ' You smile; but I tell you a poor man like me has to
take everything into consideration. If the coachman sits like a
prince, and doesn't touch his cap, and even sneers at you behind
his beard, and flicks his whip-then you may bet on six roubles.
But this case, I saw, had a very different air. However, I think
there's no help for it: duty before everything.
I snatch up the
most necessary drugs, and set off.
"Will you believe it-I only just managed to get there at
all. The road was infernal: streams, snow, watercourses, and the
dike had suddenly burst there that was the worst of it! How-
ever, I arrived at last. It was a little thatched house. There
was a light in the windows; that meant they expected me. I
was met by an old lady, very venerable, in a cap. Save her! '
she says: 'she is dying. ' I say, 'Pray don't distress yourself:
where is the invalid? '-'Come this way. '-I see a clean little
room, a lamp in the corner; on the bed a girl of twenty, uncon-
scious. She was in a burning heat, and breathing heavily; it was
fever. There were two other girls, her sisters, scared and in
'Yesterday,' they tell me, 'she was perfectly well and had
tears.
a good appetite; this morning she complained of her head, and
this evening, suddenly, you see, like this. ' I say again, ‘Pray
don't be uneasy;' it's a doctor's duty, you know; - and I went
up to her and bled her, told them to put on a mustard plaster,
and prescribed a mixture. Meantime I looked at her; I looked
at her, you know - there, by God! I had never seen such a face!
She was a beauty, in a word! I felt quite shaken with pity.
____
## p. 15084 (#672) ##########################################
15084
IVAN TURGENEFF
Such lovely features; such eyes! But thank God! she became
easier; she fell into a perspiration, seemed to come to her senses,
looked round, smiled, and passed her hand over her face. Her
sisters bent over her. They ask, 'How are you? ' 'All right,'
she says, and turns away. I looked at her; she had fallen asleep.
'Well,' I say, 'now the patient should be left alone. ' So we
all went out on tiptoe; only a maid remained, in case she was
wanted.
In the parlor there was a samovar standing on the table, and
a bottle of rum; in our profession one can't get on without it.
They gave me tea; asked me to stop the night. I consented:
where could I go, indeed, at that time of night? The old lady
kept groaning. 'What is it? ' I say: 'she will live; don't worry
yourself: you had better take a little rest yourself; it is about
two o'clock. ' 'But will you send to wake me if anything hap-
pens? ' 'Yes, yes. ' - The old lady went away, and the girls too
went to their own room; they made up a bed for me in the par-
lor. Well, I went to bed- but I could not get to sleep, for a
wonder! for in reality I was very tired. I could not get my
patient out of my head. At last I could not put up with it
any longer: I got up suddenly; I think to myself, I will go and
see how the patient is getting on. ' Her bedroom was next to
the parlor. Well, I got up, and gently opened the door; how my
heart beat! I looked in: the servant was asleep, her mouth wide
open, and even snoring, the wretch! but the patient lay with her
face towards me, and her arms flung wide apart, poor girl! I
went up to her, when suddenly she opened her eyes and stared
at me: 'Who is it? who is it? ' I was in confusion. 'Don't be
alarmed, madam,' I say: 'I am the doctor; I have come to see
how you feel. '-'You the doctor? ' 'Yes, the doctor; your mother
sent for me from the town: we have bled you, madam; now
pray go to sleep, and in a day or two, please God, we will set
you on your feet again. ' 'Ah, yes, yes, doctor, don't let me die—
please, please. '-'Why do you talk like that? God bless you! '
She is in a fever again, I think to myself; I felt her pulse: yes,
she was feverish. She looked at me, and then took me by the
hand: 'I will tell you why I don't want to die; I will tell you.
Now we
are alone; and only, please don't you - not to any
one. Listen. ' I bent down; she moved her lips quite to my
ear; she touched my cheek with her hair-I confess my head
went round-and began to whisper. I could make out nothing
-
―
## p. 15085 (#673) ##########################################
IVAN TURGENEFF
15085
of it. Ah, she was delirious! She whispered and whispered, but
so quickly, and as if it were not in Russian; at last she finished,
and shivering dropped her head on the pillow, and threatened me.
with her finger: 'Remember, doctor, to no one. ' I calmed her
somehow, gave her something to drink, waked the servant, and
went away. "
At this point the doctor again took snuff with exasperated
energy, and for a moment seemed stupefied by its effects.
"However," he continued, "the next day, contrary to my ex-
pectations, the patient was no better. I thought and thought, and
suddenly decided to remain there, even though my other patients
were expecting me. And you know one can't afford to disregard
that: one's practice suffers if one does. But in the first place, the
patient was really in danger; and secondly, to tell the truth, I
felt strongly drawn to her. Besides, I liked the whole family.
Though they were really badly off, they were singularly—I may
say cultivated people. Their father had been a learned man,
an author: he died of course in poverty, but he had managed
before he died to give his children an excellent education; he
left a lot of books too. Either because I looked after the invalid
very carefully, or for some other reason anyway, I can venture
to say all the household loved me as if I were one of the family.
"Meantime the roads were in a worse state than ever: all
communications, so to say, were cut off completely; even medi-
cine could with difficulty be got from the town. The sick girl
was not getting better. Day after day, and day after day-
but here" (The doctor made a brief pause. ) "I declare I
don't know how to tell you. " (He again took snuff, coughed, and
swallowed a little tea. ) "I will tell you without beating about
the bush. My patient - how should I say? Well, she had fallen
in love with me- or no, it was not that she was in love-how-
ever - really, how should one say? " (The doctor looked down
and grew red. ) "No," he went on quickly: "in love, indeed!
A man should not overestimate himself. She was an educated
girl, clever and well-read; and I had even forgotten my Latin,
one may say, completely. As to appearance" (the doctor looked.
himself over with a smile), "I am nothing to boast of there
either. But God Almighty did not make me a fool: I don't take
black for white; I know a thing or two; I could see very clearly,
for instance, that Alexandra Andreëvna (that was her name) did.
not feel love for me, but had a friendly—so to say-inclination —
―
――
## p. 15086 (#674) ##########################################
15086
IVAN TURGENEFF
a respect or something for me. Though she herself perhaps
mistook this sentiment, anyway this was her attitude: you may
form your own judgment of it. But," added the doctor, who
had brought out all these disconnected sentences without taking
breath, and with obvious embarrassment, "I seem to be wander-
ing rather you won't understand anything like this. There,
with your leave, I will relate it all in order. "
He drank off a glass of tea, and began in a calmer voice.
"Well, then. My patient kept getting worse and worse. You
are not a doctor, my good sir: you cannot understand what passes
in a poor fellow's heart, especially at first, when he begins to
suspect that the disease is getting the upper hand of him. What
becomes of his belief in himself? You suddenly grow so timid:
it's indescribable. You fancy then that you have forgotten every-
thing you knew, and that the patient has no faith in you, and
that other people begin to notice how distracted you are, and
tell you the symptoms with reluctance; that they are looking at
you suspiciously, whispering. Ah! it's horrid! There must be a
remedy, you think, for this disease, if one could find it. Isn't
this it? You try-
no, that's not it! You don't allow the medi-
cine the necessary time to do good. You clutch at one thing,
then at another. Sometimes you take up a book of medical pre-
scriptions-here it is, you think! Sometimes, by Jove, you pick
one out by chance, thinking to leave it to fate. But meantime
a fellow-creature's dying, and another doctor would have saved
him. 'We must have a consultation,' you say: 'I will not take
the responsibility on myself. ' And what a fool you look at such
times! Well, in time you learn to bear it: it's nothing to you.
A man has died - but it's not your fault: you treated him by
the rules.
-
"But what's still more torture to you is to see blind faith
in you, and to feel yourself that you are not able to be of use.
Well, it was just this blind faith that the whole of Alexandra
Andreëvna's family had in me; they had forgotten to think that
their daughter, was in danger. I, too, on my side assure them
that it's nothing; but meantime my heart sinks into my boots.
To add to our troubles, the roads were in such a state that the
coachman was gone for whole days together to get medicine.
And I never left the patient's room; I could not tear myself
away: I tell her amusing stories, you know, and play cards with
her. I watch by her side at night. The old mother thanks me
## p. 15087 (#675) ##########################################
IVAN TURGENEFF
15087
with tears in her eyes: but I think to myself, 'I don't deserve
your gratitude. ' I frankly confess to you- there is no object in
concealing it now-I was in love with my patient. And Alex-
andra Andreëvna had grown fond of me; sometimes she would
not let any one be in her room but me. She began to talk to
me, to ask me questions: where I had studied, how I lived, who
are my people, whom I go to see. I feel that she ought not
to talk; but forbid her to forbid her resolutely, you know-
I could not. Sometimes I held my head in my hands, and asked
myself, 'What are you doing, villain? ' And she would take
my hand and hold it, give me a long, long look, and turn away,
sigh, and say, 'How good you are! ' Her hands were so fever-
ish, her eyes so large and languid. 'Yes,' she says, 'you are a
good, kind man; you are not like our neighbors. No, you are
not like that. Why did I not know you till now! ' 'Alexandra
Andreëvna, calm yourself,' I say. 'I feel-believe me, I don't
know how I have gained-but there, calm yourself. All will be
right; you will be well again. '
"And meanwhile I must tell you," continued the doctor,
bending forward and raising his eyebrows, "that they associated
very little with the neighbors, because the smaller people were
not on their level, and pride hindered them from being friendly
with the rich. I tell you, they were an exceptionally cultivated
family; so you know it was gratifying for me. She would only
take her medicine from my hands; she would lift herself up,
poor' girl, with my aid, take it, and gaze at me. My heart felt
as if it were bursting. And meanwhile she was growing worse
and worse, worse and worse, all the time: she will die, I think
to myself; she must die. Believe me,
I would sooner have
gone to the grave myself: and here were her mother and sis-
ters watching me, looking into my eyes; and their faith in me
was wearing away. 'Well, how is she? '-'Oh, all right, all
right! ' All right, indeed! My mind was failing me.
"Well, I was sitting one night alone again by my patient.
The maid was sitting there too, and snoring away in full swing:
I can't find fault with the poor girl, though,- she was worn out
too. Alexandra Andreëvna had felt very unwell all the evening;
she was very feverish. Until midnight she kept tossing about: at
last she seemed to fall asleep; at least she lay still without stir-
ring. The lamp was burning in the corner before the holy
image. I sat there, you know, with my head bent; I even dozed
_______________
-
-
## p. 15088 (#676) ##########################################
15088
IVAN TURGENEFF
a little. Suddenly it seemed as though some one touched me
in the side; I turned round. Good God! Alexandra Andreëvna
was gazing with intent eyes at me, her lips parted, her cheeks
seemed burning. -'What is it? ''Doctor, shall I die? '- 'Mer-
ciful Heavens! ''No, doctor, no: please don't tell me I shall
live- don't say so. If you knew-listen! for God's sake don't
conceal my real position,' and her breath came so fast. 'If I
can know for certain that I must die, then I will tell you all-
all! '-'Alexandra Andreëvna, I beg! '-'Listen: I have not been
asleep at all. I have been looking at you a long while. For
God's sake! I believe in you; you are a good man, an honest
man; I entreat you by all that is sacred in the world-tell me
the truth! If you knew how important it is for me. Doctor,
for God's sake tell me. Am I in danger? '-'What can I tell
you, Alexandra Andreëvna, pray? '-'For God's sake, I beseech
you! '-'I can't disguise from you,' I say, 'Alexandra Andreëvna,
you are certainly in danger; but God is merciful. '-'I shall die,
I shall die. ' And it seemed as though she were pleased, her
face grew so bright; I was alarmed. -'Don't be afraid, don't
be afraid! I am not frightened of death at all. ' She suddenly
sat up and leaned on her elbow. 'Now, yes, now I can tell
you that I thank you with my whole heart-that you are kind
and good-that I love you! ' I stare at her like one possessed;
it was terrible for me, you know. -'Do you hear, I love you! '.
'Alexandra Andreëvna, how have I deserved-' 'No, no, you
don't you don't understand me. ' And suddenly she stretched
out her arms, and taking my head in her hands, she kissed it.
"Believe me, I almost screamed aloud. I threw myself on my
knees, and buried my head in the pillow. She did not speak;
her fingers trembled in my hair; I listen; she is weeping. I
began to soothe her, to assure her; -I really don't know what
I did say to her. You will wake up the girl,' I say to her:
'Alexandra Andreëvna, I thank you- Believe me
Calm your-
self. ' 'Enough, enough! ' she persisted: 'never mind all of them;
let them awake, then; let them come in-it does not matter: I
am dying, you see. And what do you fear? why are you afraid ?
Lift up your head. - Or perhaps you don't love me; perhaps I
am wrong. In that case, forgive me. '-'Alexandra Andreëvna,
what are you saying! I love you, Alexandra Andreëvna.
## p. 15075 (#663) ##########################################
IVAN TURGENEFF
15075
sense in that even before, and less than ever now. Love is a
form, and my own form is already breaking up. Better say how
lovely you are! And now here you stand, so beautiful-» Anna
Sergyevna gave an involuntary shudder. "Never mind, don't be
uneasy. Sit down there. Don't come close to me: you know my
illness is catching. "
Anna Sergyevna swiftly crossed the room, and sat down in
the arm-chair near the sofa on which Bazarov was lying.
"Noble-hearted! " he whispered. "Oh, how near, and how
young, and fresh, and pure—in this loathsome room! Well, good-
by! live long,-that's the best of all,-and make the most of it
while there is time. You see what a hideous spectacle: the worm
half crushed, but writhing still. And you see, I thought too, I'd
break down so many things: I wouldn't die- why should I! -
there were problems to solve, and I was a giant! And now all
the problem for the giant is, how to die decently-though that
makes no difference to any one either. Never mind: I'm not
going to turn tail. ”
Bazarov was silent, and began feeling with his hand for the
glass. Anna Sergyevna gave him some drink: not taking off her
glove, and drawing her breath timorously.
"You will forget me," he began again: "the dead's no com-
panion for the living. My father will tell you what a man Rus-
sia is losing. That's nonsense, but don't contradict the old man.
Whatever toy will comfort the child-you know. And be kind
to mother. People like them aren't to be found in your great
world if you look by daylight with a candle. I was needed by
Russia. No, it's clear, I wasn't needed. And who is needed?
The shoemaker's needed, the tailor's needed, the butcher - gives
us meat - the butcher wait a little, I'm getting mixed. There's
a forest here — "
Bazarov put his hand to his brow.
Anna Sergyevna bent down to him.
am here- »
―
―――――
"Yevgeny Vassilyitch, I
He at once took his hand away, and raised himself.
"Good-bye," he said with sudden force, and his eyes gleamed.
with their last light. "Good-bye. Listen-you know I didn't
kiss you then. Breathe on the dying lamp, and let it go out. "
Anna Sergyevna put her lips to his forehead.
"Enough! " he murmured, and dropped back on to the pillow.
"Now-darkness — "
## p. 15076 (#664) ##########################################
15076
IVAN TURGENEFF
Anna Sergyevna went softly out. "Well? " Vassily Ivano-
vitch asked her in a whisper.
"He has fallen asleep," she answered, scarce audibly. Baza-
rov was not fated to awaken.
Towards evening he sank into
complete unconsciousness, and the following day he died. Father
Alexey performed the last rites of religion over him. When they
anointed him with the last unction, when the holy oil touched his
breast, one eye opened; and it seemed as though at the sight of
the priest in his vestments, the smoking censers, the light before
the image, something like a shudder of horror passed over the
death-stricken face. When at last he had breathed his last, and
there arose a universal lamentation in the house, Vassily Ivan-
ovitch was seized by a sudden frenzy. "I said I should rebel,"
he shrieked hoarsely, with his face inflamed and distorted, shak-
ing his fist in the air, as though threatening some one; "and I
rebel, I rebel! " But Arina Vlasyevna, all in tears, hung upon
his neck, and both fell on their faces together.
"Side by
side,” Anfisushka related afterwards in the servants' room, "they
drooped their poor heads like lambs at noonday. "
But the heat of noonday passes, and evening comes and night;
and then too the return to the kindly refuge, where sleep is
sweet for the weary and heavy-laden.
LAVRETSKY
From A House of Gentlefolk
Α
ND SO-eight years have passed by. Once more the breezes
of spring breathed brightness and rejoicing from the heav-
ens; once more spring was smiling upon the earth and
upon men; once more under her caresses everything was turning
to blossom, to love, to song. The town of O- had undergone
little change in the course of these eight years: but Marfa
Dmitrievna's house seemed to have grown younger; its freshly
painted walls gave a bright welcome, and the panes of its open
windows were crimson, shining in the setting sun; from these
windows the light merry sound of ringing young voices and con-
tinual laughter floated into the street; the whole house seemed
astir with life and brimming over with gayety. The lady of the
house herself had long been in her tomb; Marya Dmitrievna had
## p. 15077 (#665) ##########################################
IVAN TURGENEFF
15077
died two years after Lisa took the veil, and Marfa Timofyevna
had not long survived her niece; they lay side by side in the
cemetery of the town. Nastasya Karpovna too was no more. For
several years the faithful old woman had gone every week to say
a prayer over her friend's ashes: her time had come, and now
her bones too lay in the damp earth. But Marya Dmitrievna's
house had not passed into strangers' hands; it had not gone out
of her family; the home had not been broken up. Lenotchka,
transformed into a slim, beautiful young girl; and her betrothed
lover, a fair-haired officer of hussars; Marya Dmitrievna's son,
who had just been married in Petersburg and had come with his
young wife for the spring to O—; his wife's sister, a school-
girl of sixteen, with glowing cheeks and bright eyes; Shurotchka,
grown up and also pretty,-made up the youthful household,
whose laughter and talk set the walls of the Kalitins's house
resounding. Everything in the house was changed; everything
was in keeping with its new inhabitants. Beardless servant lads,
grinning and full of fun, had replaced the sober old servants of
former days. Two setter dogs dashed wildly about and gamboled
over the sofas, where the fat Roska had at one time waddled
in solemn dignity. The stables were filled with slender racers,
spirited carriage horses, fiery outriders with plaited manes, and
riding-horses from the Don. The breakfast, dinner, and supper
hours were all in confusion and disorder; in the words of the
neighbors, "unheard-of arrangements" were made.
On the evening of which we are speaking, the inhabitants of
the Kalitins's house (the eldest of them, Lenotchka's betrothed,
was only twenty-four) were engaged in a game, which, though
not of a very complicated nature, was, to judge from their merry
laughter, exceedingly entertaining to them,- they were running
about the rooms chasing one another; the dogs too were running
and barking; and the canaries, hanging in cages above the win-
dows, were straining their throats in rivalry, and adding to the
general uproar by the shrill trilling of their piercing notes. At the
very height of this deafening merry-making, a mud-bespattered
carriage stopped at the gate; and a man of five-and-forty, in a
traveling dress, stepped out of it, and stood still in amazement.
He stood a little time without stirring, watching the house with
attentive eyes; then went through the little gate in the court-
yard, and slowly mounted the steps. In the hall he met no one:
but the door of a room was suddenly flung open, and out of it
## p. 15078 (#666) ##########################################
15078
IVAN TURGENEFF
rushed Shurotchka, flushed and hot; and instantly, with a ring-
ing shout, all the young party in pursuit of her. They stopped
short at once, and were quiet, at the sight of a stranger; but
their clear eyes fixed on him wore the same friendly expression,
and their fresh faces were still smiling as Marya Dmitrievna's
son went up to the visitor, and asked him cordially what he could
do for him.
"I am Lavretsky," replied the visitor.
He was answered by a shout of friendliness; and not because
these young people were greatly delighted at the arrival of a dis-
tant, almost forgotten, relation, but simply because they were
ready to be delighted and make a noise at every opportunity.
They surrounded Lavretsky at once; Lenotchka, as an old ac-
quaintance, was the first to call him by his name, and assured
him that in a little while she would certainly have recognized
him. She presented him to the rest of the party, calling each,
even her betrothed, by their pet names. They all trooped through
the dining-room into the drawing-room. The walls of both
rooms had been repapered; but the furniture remained the same.
Lavretsky recognized the piano; even the embroidery frame in
the window was just the same, and in the same position, and it
seemed with the same unfinished embroidery on it, as eight years
ago.
They made him sit down in a comfortable arm-chair; all sat
down politely in a circle round him. Questions, exclamations, and
anecdotes followed.
"It's a long time since we have seen you," observed Le-
notchka simply, "and Varvara Pavlovna we have seen nothing
of either. "
"Well, no wonder! " her brother hastened to interpose: "I car-
ried you off to Petersburg, and Fedor Ivan'itch has been living
all the time in the country. "
"Yes, and mamma died soon after then. "
"And Marfa Timofyevna," observed Shurotchka.
"And Nastasya Karpovna," added Lenotchka, "and Monsieur
Lemm. "
"What? is Lemm dead? " inquired Lavretsky.
"Yes," replied young Kalitin, "he left here for Odessa - they
say some one enticed him there; and there he died. "
"You don't happen to know-did he leave any music?
"I don't know; not very likely. "
## p. 15079 (#667) ##########################################
IVAN TURGENEFF
15079
A slight cloud of
All were silent and looked about them.
melancholy flitted over all the young faces.
"But Matross is alive," said Lenotchka suddenly.
"And Gedeonovsky," added her brother.
At Gedeonovsky's name a merry laugh broke out at once.
"Yes, he is alive, and as great a liar as ever," Marya Dmi-
trievna's son continued; "and only fancy, yesterday this madcap "
-pointing to the schoolgirl, his wife's sister-"put some pepper
in his snuff-box. "
"How he did sneeze! " cried Lenotchka; and again there was
a burst of unrestrained laughter.
"We have had news of Lisa lately," observed young Kalitin,
and again a hush fell upon all: "there was good news of her;
she is recovering her health a little now. "
"She is still in the same convent? " Lavretsky asked, not
without some effort.
"Yes, still in the same. "
"Does she write to you? "
<< No, never; but we get news through other people. "
A sudden and profound silence followed. "A good angel is
passing by," all were thinking.
"Wouldn't you like to go into the garden? " said Kalitin,
turning to Lavretsky: "it is very nice now, though we have let
it run wild a little. "
___________
Lavretsky went out into the garden, and the first thing that
met his eyes was the very garden seat on which he had once
spent with Lisa those few blissful moments, never repeated. It
had grown black and warped; but he recognized it, and his soul
was filled with that emotion unequaled for sweetness and for
bitterness, the emotion of keen sorrow for vanished youth, for
the happiness which has once been possessed. He walked along
the avenues with the young people: the lime-trees looked hardly
older or taller in the eight years, but their shade was thicker; on
the other hand, all the bushes had sprung up, the raspberry
bushes had grown strong, the hazels were a tangled thicket, and
from all sides rose the fresh scent of the trees and grass and
lilac.
"This would be a nice place for Puss-in-the-Corner," cried
Lenotchka suddenly, as they came upon a small green lawn, sur-
rounded by lime-trees; "and we are just five, too. "
"Have you forgotten Fedor Ivan'itch? " replied her brother,
"or didn't you count yourself? "
## p. 15080 (#668) ##########################################
15080
IVAN TURGENEFF
Lenotchka blushed slightly.
she began.
"But would Fedor Ivan'itch, at his age-
"Please play your games," Lavretsky hastened to interpose;
"don't pay attention to me. I shall be happier myself when I
am sure I am not in your way. And there's no need for you to
entertain me: we old fellows have an occupation you know noth-
ing of yet, and which no amusement can replace—our memories. »
The young people listened to Lavretsky with polite but rather
ironical respect,- as though a teacher were giving them a les-
son, and suddenly they all dispersed and ran to the lawn; four
stood near trees, one in the middle, and the game began.
And Lavretsky went back into the house, went into the dining-
room, drew near the piano and touched one of the keys; it gave
out a faint but clear sound: on that note had begun the inspired
melody with which long ago on that same happy night Lemm,
the dead Lemm, had thrown him into such transports. Then
Lavretsky went into the drawing-room, and for a long time he did
not leave it: in that room where he had so often seen Lisa, her
image rose most vividly before him; he seemed to feel the traces
of her presence round him: but his grief for her was crushing,
not easy to bear, it had none of the peace which comes with
death. Lisa still lived somewhere, hidden and afar; he thought
of her as of the living, but he did not recognize the girl he had
once loved in that dim, pale shadow, cloaked in a nun's dress
and encircled in misty clouds of incense. Lavretsky would not
have recognized himself, could he have looked at himself as
mentally he looked at Lisa. In the course of these eight years
he had passed that turning-point in life which many never pass,
but without which no one can be a good man to the end: he
had really ceased to think of his own happiness, of his personal
aims. He had grown calm, and-why hide the truth? - he had
grown old not only in face and in body, he had grown old in
heart. To keep a young heart up to old age, as some say, is
not only difficult, but almost ridiculous: he may well be content
who has not lost his belief in goodness, his steadfast will, and
his zeal for work. Lavretsky had good reason to be content: he
had become actually an excellent farmer, he had really learnt to
cultivate the land, and his labors were not only for himself,—
he had, to the best of his powers, secured on a firm basis the
welfare of his peasants.
-
Lavretsky went out of the house into the garden, and sat
down on the familiar garden seat. And on this loved spot, facing
## p. 15081 (#669) ##########################################
IVAN TURGENEFF
15081
the house where for the last time he had vainly stretched out
his hand for the enchanted cup which frothed and sparkled with
the golden wine of delight, he, a solitary homeless wanderer,
looked back upon his life; while the joyous shouts of the younger
generation, who were already filling his place, floated across the
garden to him. His heart was sad, but not weighed down nor
bitter: much there was to regret, nothing to be ashamed of.
"Play away, be gay, grow strong, vigorous youth! " he
thought—and there was no bitterness in his meditations: "your
life is before you, and for you life will be easier; you have
not, as we had, to find out a path for yourselves, to struggle, to
fall, and to rise again in the dark; we had enough to do to last
out, and how many of us did not last out? - but you need
only do your duty, work away, and the blessing of an old man
be with you. For me, after to-day, after these emotions, there
remains to take my leave at last; and though sadly, without
envy, without any dark feelings, to say, in sight of the end, in
sight of God who awaits me: 'Welcome, lonely old age! burn
out, useless life! '»
-
Lavretsky quietly rose and quietly went away; no one noticed
him, no one detained him: the joyous cries sounded more loudly
in the garden behind the thick green wall of high lime-trees.
He took his seat in the carriage, and bade the coachman drive
home, and not hurry the horses.
"And the end? " perhaps the dissatisfied reader will inquire.
"What became of Lavretsky afterwards, and of Lisa? " But
what is there to tell of people who, though still alive, have
withdrawn from the battle-field of life? They say Lavretsky
visited that remote convent where Lisa had hidden herself — that
he saw her. Crossing over from choir to choir, she walked close
past him, moving with the even, hurried, but meek walk of a
nun: and she did not glance at him; only the eyelashes on the
side towards him quivered a little, only she bent her emaciated
face lower, and the fingers of her clasped hands, entwined with
her rosary, were pressed still closer to one another. What were
they both thinking, what were they feeling? Who can know?
who can say? There are such moments in life, there are such
feelings. One can but point to them-and pass them by.
## p. 15082 (#670) ##########################################
15082
IVAN TURGENEFF
THE DISTRICT DOCTOR
From A Sportsman's Sketches'
Ο
NE day in autumn, on my way back from a remote part
of the country, I caught cold and fell ill. Fortunately the
fever attacked me in the district town, at the inn; I sent
for the doctor. In half an hour the district doctor appeared,-
a thin, dark-haired man of middle height. He prescribed me the
usual sudorific; ordered a mustard plaster to be put on; very
deftly slid a five-rouble note up his sleeve, coughing dryly and
looking away as he did so: and then was getting up to go home,
but somehow fell into talk and remained. I was exhausted with
feverishness; I foresaw a sleepless night, and was glad of a little
chat with a pleasant companion. Tea was served. My doctor
began to converse freely. He was a sensible fellow, and expressed
himself with vigor and some humor. Queer things happen in
the world: you may live a long while with some people, and be
on friendly terms with them, and never once speak openly with
them from your soul; with others you have scarcely time to get
acquainted, and all at once you are pouring out to him or he
to you
all your secrets, as though you were at confession.
don't know how I gained the confidence of my new friend: any-
way, with nothing to lead up to it, he told me a rather curi-
ous incident; and here I will report his tale for the information
of the indulgent reader. I will try to tell it in the doctor's own
words.
I
-
"You don't happen to know," he began in a weak and quaver-
ing voice (the common result of the use of unmixed Berezov
snuff), "you don't happen to know the judge here, Mylov—
Pavel Lukitch? You don't know him? Well, it's all the same. "
(He cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes. ) "Well, you see,
the thing happened, to tell you exactly without mistake, in Lent,
at the very time of the thaws. I was sitting at his house-our
judge's, you know-playing preference. Our judge is a good
fellow, and fond of playing preference. Suddenly" (the doc-
tor made frequent use of this word "suddenly ") "they tell me,
'There's a servant asking for you. ' I say, 'What does he want? '
They say, 'He has brought a note-it must be from a patient. '
'Give me the note,' I say. So it is from a patient-well and
good; you understand - it's our bread and butter.
## p. 15083 (#671) ##########################################
IVAN TURGENEFF
15083
"But this is how it was: a lady, a widow, writes to me; she
says, 'My daughter is dying. Come, for God's sake! ' she says;
'and the horses have been sent for you. ' Well, that's all right.
But she was twenty miles from the town, and it was midnight
out of doors, and the roads in such a state-my word! And as
she was poor herself, one could not expect more than two silver
roubles, and even that problematic; and perhaps it might only be
a matter of a roll of linen and a sack of oatmeal in payment.
However, duty, you know, before everything: a fellow-creature
may be dying. I hand over my cards at once to Kalliopin, the
member of the provincial commission, and return home. I look:
a wretched little trap was standing at the steps, with peasant's
horses, fat-too fat-and their coat as shaggy as felt; and the
coachman sitting with his cap off out of respect. Well, I think
to myself, 'It's clear, my friend, these patients aren't rolling in
riches. ' You smile; but I tell you a poor man like me has to
take everything into consideration. If the coachman sits like a
prince, and doesn't touch his cap, and even sneers at you behind
his beard, and flicks his whip-then you may bet on six roubles.
But this case, I saw, had a very different air. However, I think
there's no help for it: duty before everything.
I snatch up the
most necessary drugs, and set off.
"Will you believe it-I only just managed to get there at
all. The road was infernal: streams, snow, watercourses, and the
dike had suddenly burst there that was the worst of it! How-
ever, I arrived at last. It was a little thatched house. There
was a light in the windows; that meant they expected me. I
was met by an old lady, very venerable, in a cap. Save her! '
she says: 'she is dying. ' I say, 'Pray don't distress yourself:
where is the invalid? '-'Come this way. '-I see a clean little
room, a lamp in the corner; on the bed a girl of twenty, uncon-
scious. She was in a burning heat, and breathing heavily; it was
fever. There were two other girls, her sisters, scared and in
'Yesterday,' they tell me, 'she was perfectly well and had
tears.
a good appetite; this morning she complained of her head, and
this evening, suddenly, you see, like this. ' I say again, ‘Pray
don't be uneasy;' it's a doctor's duty, you know; - and I went
up to her and bled her, told them to put on a mustard plaster,
and prescribed a mixture. Meantime I looked at her; I looked
at her, you know - there, by God! I had never seen such a face!
She was a beauty, in a word! I felt quite shaken with pity.
____
## p. 15084 (#672) ##########################################
15084
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Such lovely features; such eyes! But thank God! she became
easier; she fell into a perspiration, seemed to come to her senses,
looked round, smiled, and passed her hand over her face. Her
sisters bent over her. They ask, 'How are you? ' 'All right,'
she says, and turns away. I looked at her; she had fallen asleep.
'Well,' I say, 'now the patient should be left alone. ' So we
all went out on tiptoe; only a maid remained, in case she was
wanted.
In the parlor there was a samovar standing on the table, and
a bottle of rum; in our profession one can't get on without it.
They gave me tea; asked me to stop the night. I consented:
where could I go, indeed, at that time of night? The old lady
kept groaning. 'What is it? ' I say: 'she will live; don't worry
yourself: you had better take a little rest yourself; it is about
two o'clock. ' 'But will you send to wake me if anything hap-
pens? ' 'Yes, yes. ' - The old lady went away, and the girls too
went to their own room; they made up a bed for me in the par-
lor. Well, I went to bed- but I could not get to sleep, for a
wonder! for in reality I was very tired. I could not get my
patient out of my head. At last I could not put up with it
any longer: I got up suddenly; I think to myself, I will go and
see how the patient is getting on. ' Her bedroom was next to
the parlor. Well, I got up, and gently opened the door; how my
heart beat! I looked in: the servant was asleep, her mouth wide
open, and even snoring, the wretch! but the patient lay with her
face towards me, and her arms flung wide apart, poor girl! I
went up to her, when suddenly she opened her eyes and stared
at me: 'Who is it? who is it? ' I was in confusion. 'Don't be
alarmed, madam,' I say: 'I am the doctor; I have come to see
how you feel. '-'You the doctor? ' 'Yes, the doctor; your mother
sent for me from the town: we have bled you, madam; now
pray go to sleep, and in a day or two, please God, we will set
you on your feet again. ' 'Ah, yes, yes, doctor, don't let me die—
please, please. '-'Why do you talk like that? God bless you! '
She is in a fever again, I think to myself; I felt her pulse: yes,
she was feverish. She looked at me, and then took me by the
hand: 'I will tell you why I don't want to die; I will tell you.
Now we
are alone; and only, please don't you - not to any
one. Listen. ' I bent down; she moved her lips quite to my
ear; she touched my cheek with her hair-I confess my head
went round-and began to whisper. I could make out nothing
-
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of it. Ah, she was delirious! She whispered and whispered, but
so quickly, and as if it were not in Russian; at last she finished,
and shivering dropped her head on the pillow, and threatened me.
with her finger: 'Remember, doctor, to no one. ' I calmed her
somehow, gave her something to drink, waked the servant, and
went away. "
At this point the doctor again took snuff with exasperated
energy, and for a moment seemed stupefied by its effects.
"However," he continued, "the next day, contrary to my ex-
pectations, the patient was no better. I thought and thought, and
suddenly decided to remain there, even though my other patients
were expecting me. And you know one can't afford to disregard
that: one's practice suffers if one does. But in the first place, the
patient was really in danger; and secondly, to tell the truth, I
felt strongly drawn to her. Besides, I liked the whole family.
Though they were really badly off, they were singularly—I may
say cultivated people. Their father had been a learned man,
an author: he died of course in poverty, but he had managed
before he died to give his children an excellent education; he
left a lot of books too. Either because I looked after the invalid
very carefully, or for some other reason anyway, I can venture
to say all the household loved me as if I were one of the family.
"Meantime the roads were in a worse state than ever: all
communications, so to say, were cut off completely; even medi-
cine could with difficulty be got from the town. The sick girl
was not getting better. Day after day, and day after day-
but here" (The doctor made a brief pause. ) "I declare I
don't know how to tell you. " (He again took snuff, coughed, and
swallowed a little tea. ) "I will tell you without beating about
the bush. My patient - how should I say? Well, she had fallen
in love with me- or no, it was not that she was in love-how-
ever - really, how should one say? " (The doctor looked down
and grew red. ) "No," he went on quickly: "in love, indeed!
A man should not overestimate himself. She was an educated
girl, clever and well-read; and I had even forgotten my Latin,
one may say, completely. As to appearance" (the doctor looked.
himself over with a smile), "I am nothing to boast of there
either. But God Almighty did not make me a fool: I don't take
black for white; I know a thing or two; I could see very clearly,
for instance, that Alexandra Andreëvna (that was her name) did.
not feel love for me, but had a friendly—so to say-inclination —
―
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## p. 15086 (#674) ##########################################
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IVAN TURGENEFF
a respect or something for me. Though she herself perhaps
mistook this sentiment, anyway this was her attitude: you may
form your own judgment of it. But," added the doctor, who
had brought out all these disconnected sentences without taking
breath, and with obvious embarrassment, "I seem to be wander-
ing rather you won't understand anything like this. There,
with your leave, I will relate it all in order. "
He drank off a glass of tea, and began in a calmer voice.
"Well, then. My patient kept getting worse and worse. You
are not a doctor, my good sir: you cannot understand what passes
in a poor fellow's heart, especially at first, when he begins to
suspect that the disease is getting the upper hand of him. What
becomes of his belief in himself? You suddenly grow so timid:
it's indescribable. You fancy then that you have forgotten every-
thing you knew, and that the patient has no faith in you, and
that other people begin to notice how distracted you are, and
tell you the symptoms with reluctance; that they are looking at
you suspiciously, whispering. Ah! it's horrid! There must be a
remedy, you think, for this disease, if one could find it. Isn't
this it? You try-
no, that's not it! You don't allow the medi-
cine the necessary time to do good. You clutch at one thing,
then at another. Sometimes you take up a book of medical pre-
scriptions-here it is, you think! Sometimes, by Jove, you pick
one out by chance, thinking to leave it to fate. But meantime
a fellow-creature's dying, and another doctor would have saved
him. 'We must have a consultation,' you say: 'I will not take
the responsibility on myself. ' And what a fool you look at such
times! Well, in time you learn to bear it: it's nothing to you.
A man has died - but it's not your fault: you treated him by
the rules.
-
"But what's still more torture to you is to see blind faith
in you, and to feel yourself that you are not able to be of use.
Well, it was just this blind faith that the whole of Alexandra
Andreëvna's family had in me; they had forgotten to think that
their daughter, was in danger. I, too, on my side assure them
that it's nothing; but meantime my heart sinks into my boots.
To add to our troubles, the roads were in such a state that the
coachman was gone for whole days together to get medicine.
And I never left the patient's room; I could not tear myself
away: I tell her amusing stories, you know, and play cards with
her. I watch by her side at night. The old mother thanks me
## p. 15087 (#675) ##########################################
IVAN TURGENEFF
15087
with tears in her eyes: but I think to myself, 'I don't deserve
your gratitude. ' I frankly confess to you- there is no object in
concealing it now-I was in love with my patient. And Alex-
andra Andreëvna had grown fond of me; sometimes she would
not let any one be in her room but me. She began to talk to
me, to ask me questions: where I had studied, how I lived, who
are my people, whom I go to see. I feel that she ought not
to talk; but forbid her to forbid her resolutely, you know-
I could not. Sometimes I held my head in my hands, and asked
myself, 'What are you doing, villain? ' And she would take
my hand and hold it, give me a long, long look, and turn away,
sigh, and say, 'How good you are! ' Her hands were so fever-
ish, her eyes so large and languid. 'Yes,' she says, 'you are a
good, kind man; you are not like our neighbors. No, you are
not like that. Why did I not know you till now! ' 'Alexandra
Andreëvna, calm yourself,' I say. 'I feel-believe me, I don't
know how I have gained-but there, calm yourself. All will be
right; you will be well again. '
"And meanwhile I must tell you," continued the doctor,
bending forward and raising his eyebrows, "that they associated
very little with the neighbors, because the smaller people were
not on their level, and pride hindered them from being friendly
with the rich. I tell you, they were an exceptionally cultivated
family; so you know it was gratifying for me. She would only
take her medicine from my hands; she would lift herself up,
poor' girl, with my aid, take it, and gaze at me. My heart felt
as if it were bursting. And meanwhile she was growing worse
and worse, worse and worse, all the time: she will die, I think
to myself; she must die. Believe me,
I would sooner have
gone to the grave myself: and here were her mother and sis-
ters watching me, looking into my eyes; and their faith in me
was wearing away. 'Well, how is she? '-'Oh, all right, all
right! ' All right, indeed! My mind was failing me.
"Well, I was sitting one night alone again by my patient.
The maid was sitting there too, and snoring away in full swing:
I can't find fault with the poor girl, though,- she was worn out
too. Alexandra Andreëvna had felt very unwell all the evening;
she was very feverish. Until midnight she kept tossing about: at
last she seemed to fall asleep; at least she lay still without stir-
ring. The lamp was burning in the corner before the holy
image. I sat there, you know, with my head bent; I even dozed
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## p. 15088 (#676) ##########################################
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IVAN TURGENEFF
a little. Suddenly it seemed as though some one touched me
in the side; I turned round. Good God! Alexandra Andreëvna
was gazing with intent eyes at me, her lips parted, her cheeks
seemed burning. -'What is it? ''Doctor, shall I die? '- 'Mer-
ciful Heavens! ''No, doctor, no: please don't tell me I shall
live- don't say so. If you knew-listen! for God's sake don't
conceal my real position,' and her breath came so fast. 'If I
can know for certain that I must die, then I will tell you all-
all! '-'Alexandra Andreëvna, I beg! '-'Listen: I have not been
asleep at all. I have been looking at you a long while. For
God's sake! I believe in you; you are a good man, an honest
man; I entreat you by all that is sacred in the world-tell me
the truth! If you knew how important it is for me. Doctor,
for God's sake tell me. Am I in danger? '-'What can I tell
you, Alexandra Andreëvna, pray? '-'For God's sake, I beseech
you! '-'I can't disguise from you,' I say, 'Alexandra Andreëvna,
you are certainly in danger; but God is merciful. '-'I shall die,
I shall die. ' And it seemed as though she were pleased, her
face grew so bright; I was alarmed. -'Don't be afraid, don't
be afraid! I am not frightened of death at all. ' She suddenly
sat up and leaned on her elbow. 'Now, yes, now I can tell
you that I thank you with my whole heart-that you are kind
and good-that I love you! ' I stare at her like one possessed;
it was terrible for me, you know. -'Do you hear, I love you! '.
'Alexandra Andreëvna, how have I deserved-' 'No, no, you
don't you don't understand me. ' And suddenly she stretched
out her arms, and taking my head in her hands, she kissed it.
"Believe me, I almost screamed aloud. I threw myself on my
knees, and buried my head in the pillow. She did not speak;
her fingers trembled in my hair; I listen; she is weeping. I
began to soothe her, to assure her; -I really don't know what
I did say to her. You will wake up the girl,' I say to her:
'Alexandra Andreëvna, I thank you- Believe me
Calm your-
self. ' 'Enough, enough! ' she persisted: 'never mind all of them;
let them awake, then; let them come in-it does not matter: I
am dying, you see. And what do you fear? why are you afraid ?
Lift up your head. - Or perhaps you don't love me; perhaps I
am wrong. In that case, forgive me. '-'Alexandra Andreëvna,
what are you saying! I love you, Alexandra Andreëvna.
