"You shall see her, Yevgeny; but first we must have a little talk with
the doctor. I will tell him the whole history of your illness, since
Sidor Sidoritch" (this was the name of the district doctor) "has
gone; and we will have a little consultation."
Bazarov glanced at the German. "Well, talk away quickly, only not in
Latin: you see, I know the meaning of _jam moritur_."
"Der Herr scheint des Deutschen mächtig zu sein," began the new
follower of Æsculapius, turning to Vassily Ivanovitch.
"Ich--habe--We had better speak Russian," said the old man.
"Ah, ah! so that's how it is. To be sure--" And the consultation
began.
Half an hour later, Anna Sergyevna, conducted by Vassily Ivanovitch,
came into the study. The doctor had had time to whisper to her that it
was hopeless even to think of the patient's recovery.
She looked at Bazarov--and stood still in the doorway; so greatly was
she imprest by the inflamed and at the same time deathly face, with
its dim eyes fastened upon her. She felt simply dismayed, with a sort
of cold and suffocating dismay: the thought that she would not have
felt like that if she had really loved him flashed instantaneously
through her brain.
"Thanks," he said painfully: "I did not expect this. It's a deed of
mercy. So we have seen each other again, as you promised."
"Anna Sergyevna has been so kind," began Vassily Ivanovitch.
"Father, leave us alone. Anna Sergyevna, you will allow it, I fancy,
now?"
With a motion of his head he indicated his prostrate helpless frame.
Vassily Ivanovitch went out.
"Well, thanks," repeated Bazarov. "This is royally done. Monarchs,
they say, visit the dying too."
"Yevgeny Vassilyitch, I hope--"
"Ah, Anna Sergyevna, let us speak the truth. It's all over with me.
I'm under the wheel. So it turns out that it was useless to think of
the future. Death's an old joke, but it comes fresh to every one. So
far I'm not afraid--but there, senselessness is coming, and then it's
all up!" he waved his hand feebly. "Well, what had I to say to you? I
loved you! There was no 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 armchair
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-crusht, 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--tho that makes no difference. 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 companion for the
living. My father will tell you what a man Russia 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 mixt.
There's a forest here--"
Bazarov put his hand to his brow.