The Swedish doctor was washing his hands and talking in a low voice to
Stahl. He turned to me and said:
"You must try not to agitate him. Do not let him speak or move his
head." Then he went out into the corridor with Stahl.
Mrs. Stahl and Vera sat mute and terror-stricken in a corner. I watched
Bozevsky, with a deep, dull ache racking my heart. He seemed to be
falling asleep. I felt his hand relax in mine and his short breathing
became calmer and more regular.
But Stahl came in again, and Bozevsky opened his eyes.
Stahl approached the bedside and stood for a long while looking down at
his friend. Then he turned to me. "A nurse is coming," he said. "I will
take you ladies home and then come back and pass the night with him."
Take me home! How could I return home? How could I endure to meet
Vassili again? At the mere thought of seeing him, who with a treacherous
shot from behind had shattered this young existence, hatred and terror
flamed up within me. No! I would not return home. Never again would I
touch the hand of Vassili Tarnowsky.
While these thoughts traversed my mind, some one knocked at the door. It
was the nurse. Vera and Madame Grigorievska, after questioning me with
their eyes, got up softly; then, with a glance of pity at Bozevsky, they
went on tiptoe out of the room.
At the door Stahl beckoned to me to come. But I shook my head. As if he
knew what was passing Bozevsky opened his eyes again.
"Stay here," he whispered. Then he put his hand to the bandage round his
neck. "If you leave me I will tear it all off." He made a gesture as if
he would do so.
"I shall not leave you," I whispered bending over him. "I shall never
leave you again."