Bozevsky was carried to his room and the manager and servants of the
Grand Hotel thronged in murmuring consternation round his door. A
Swedish doctor, staying at the hotel, was summoned in haste. He appeared
in his dressing-gown, and with Stahl's assistance carefully dressed and
bound up the deep double wound caused by the bullet, which had passed
through the left side of Bozevsky's neck and come out beneath his chin.
Trembling and weeping I followed the sinister procession, and with
Cousin Vera and Madame Stahl entered Bozevsky's room. Now I stood,
silently praying, at the foot of the bed. Bozevsky sunken in his pillow,
with his eyes closed and his head and neck in bandages, looked as if he
were already dead.
He suddenly opened his eyes, and his gaze wandered slowly from side to
side until it rested on me. He moved his lips as if to speak, and I
hastened to his pillow and bent over him.