[2] From “A Sportman’s Sketches.”
THE DISTRICT DOCTOR
_By Ivan Turgenev_
Returning from a distant field one autumn day, I fell ill with a bad
cold. Luckily for me, the fever caught me in the district town, in a
hotel. I sent for the doctor. After a half-hour, the district physician
appeared--a dark, meagre little man. He prescribed the customary
sudorific and a mustard-plaster; and dexterously inserting into his
cuff my five-ruble note--coughing dryly and glancing sideways as he did
so--he was about to depart, but somehow began to talk and remained.
The fever made me restless; anticipating a sleepless night, I was glad
to have some one to chat with. Tea was brought in. The doctor was in
a conversational mood. He was not a bad fellow, and expressed himself
well and divertingly. How strange it is with men! You have known one
for a long time and are intimate with him, yet not once have you
ventured to talk with him frankly, from your very soul; another you
have hardly become acquainted with, and yet--either you tell him or
else he tells you, as if in confessional, his very inmost thoughts. I
do not know how I earned the confidence of my new acquaintance; but
he somehow or other “got started,” as they say, and told me a really
remarkable tale, which I present here to the sympathetic reader. I
shall try to express the story in the doctor’s own words.
“You don’t know,” he began in a faltering, trembling voice (such is the
effect of the unmixed Berezovsk snuff)--“you don’t know the judge of
this place, Pavel Luikich Muilov?... No?... Well, it doesn’t matter.”
The doctor coughed and wiped his eyes. “Any way, to be exact, it
happened during Lent, in the thaw season. I was sitting in the judge’s
house, playing ‘preference.’ Our judge is a good fellow, and loves
to play the game. Suddenly”--the doctor employed the word _suddenly_
often--“I was informed that some one came for me. ‘What does he want?’
I asked. ‘It’s some one with a note; it must be from a sick person.’ I
read the note, and, sure enough, it was from some one ill.... Well, all
right--that, you see, is my bread.... The note was from a widow, and
here was the case as she put it:
“My daughter is dying; come at once, for God’s sake! I am
sending the horses to fetch you.”
“But that was not all.... Her house was some twenty versts from town;
a black night outdoors, and the roads simply mean! She was as poor
as a mouse, too. ‘Lucky,’ I thought, ‘if I get two rubles.’ Still,
duty before everything--you can’t let a person die! Suddenly I handed
over my cards to Councillor Kalliopin, and started for home. To be
sure, there was a coach waiting for me near the porch; and a couple of
working horses, very big-bellied, and with hides like felt; the driver,
out of respect, was sitting with his hat off. ‘Well,’ said I to myself,
‘it’s plain to be seen your masters haven’t got much gold.’... You
may laugh, but here is a fact worth considering.... When the driver
sits like a prince, and keeps his cap on his head, and even laughs
under his beard, and flourishes his whip--you may count on a couple
of bank-notes! But this, you could see, was an altogether different
matter. Still, there was no way out of it; duty before everything.
Quickly I collected my most indispensable medicines, and off I went.
“Believe me, I don’t see how I got there. A wretched road, puddles,
snow, mud, ruts, suddenly a dam burst somewhere--misery, in short! Any
way, I got there. It was a small, thatched-roofed house. There was a
light in the windows. It meant they were awaiting me. I was met by a
little old lady, very dignified-looking, in a cap. ‘Save her!’ she
cried. ‘She is dying!’ ‘Don’t be alarmed,’ I told her, and asked to be
shown the patient.... ‘This way, please!’
“I was led into a small but clean room, in one corner of which hung an
ikon-lamp. On the bed lay a twenty-year-old maiden, unconscious; in a
high fever. Here also were her two sisters, frightened and in tears.
‘Only yesterday,’ they said, ‘she was altogether well, and ate with
appetite; but this morning she complained of pains in her head, and
tonight suddenly she is like this.’... ‘Don’t be alarmed,’ I once more
reassured them--as you know, it’s one of the doctor’s obligations--and
proceeded to my task. I bled her, applied mustard-plasters, and
prescribed a mixture. And all the time I couldn’t take my eyes from
her--upon my word, I never saw such a face ... a beauty, in fact! I
was torn by compassion. Such a lovely face, and eyes!... There, thank
God, she had grown quieter; perspiration had set in. She was coming
to herself; she glanced around her, smiled, moved her hand across her
face.... Her sisters bent over her, they asked her, ‘What is the matter
with you?’ ‘Nothing,’ she answered, and turned away.... When I looked
again she was asleep. I advised quiet; and so we all, on our tiptoes,
made our way out, and the maid alone remained in the room, in case of
an emergency.
“In the drawing-room the samovar was steaming. They gave me tea, and
I was invited to stay overnight.... I agreed; it was late, where else
could I go? The little old lady continued to sigh. ‘Don’t worry,’ I
said to her. ‘Your daughter shall live. And you too need some rest--it
is two o’clock.’... ‘And you’ll see that I’m awakened if anything
should happen?’ ... I promised.
“The old lady and the girls went to their rooms; my own bed was made in
the drawing-room. I lay down, but could not sleep, which was unusual
for me. I could not get my patient out of my mind. Finally, I could
stand it no longer, and arose. I thought to myself I’d take a peep at
her and see how she was coming along. Her bedroom was right next to the
drawing-room. I opened the door quietly--and my heart beat violently.
There was the maid asleep, her mouth agape; and snoring, mind you,
the wretch! As for the patient, she lay with her face turned in my
direction, her arms stretched out, poor girl! I approached closer.
Suddenly she opened her eyes and fixed them on me!... ‘Who are you?
Who are you?’... I became confused. ‘Don’t be frightened, miss. I’m
the doctor come to attend to you.’ ‘You are the doctor?’ ‘Yes, the
doctor.... Your mother sent to town for me; and in a day or two, with
God’s help, we’ll put you on your feet.’ ‘Yes, yes, Doctor, please
don’t let me die ... please.’ ‘Miss, what are you saying!’ ‘She’s
feverish again,’ I thought to myself. I felt her pulse; sure enough,
high fever. She looked at me ... and suddenly she took my hand.... ‘I
will tell you,’ she went on, ‘why I do not wish to die. I will tell
you, I will tell you ... now we are alone; only to you, to no one
else.... Listen.’... I bent over her; she placed her lips to my very
ear, brushing my cheek with her hair--I must confess, it made my head
swim--and began to whisper.... I understood nothing.... Delirious....
She continued to whisper very rapidly; it didn’t at all sound like
Russian. When she ceased she trembled, let her head drop on the pillow,
and shook a warning finger at me. ‘Remember, Doctor, tell no one!’...
Somehow, I managed to quiet her; I then gave her a drink, awakened the
maid, and left her.”
At this juncture the doctor again, with a movement of exasperation,
took a pinch of snuff, and for an instant seemed affected.
“However,” he continued, “the next day, contrary to my expectation,
my patient did not improve. After some deliberation on my part,
I suddenly made up my mind to remain, despite the fact that other
patients were awaiting me.... As you know, one can’t afford to neglect
these--the practice suffers. Well, in the first place, my patient was
really in desperate straits; and then again, to confess the truth to
you, I felt strongly attracted towards her; besides, I took a liking to
the entire family. Though poor people, they were highly educated....
The father of the family was a learned man, an author; I need not
add that he died poor. He managed, however, to give his children an
excellent bringing-up. He also left quite a number of books. Whether
it was because of this that I attended the patient so assiduously or
for other reasons, there is no question that those in the house grew to
love me like one of their own kin....
“In the meantime the thaw made the roads very bad; all communication,
one might say, was cut off. The medicine was obtained from town with
considerable difficulty.... The patient did not improve.... Days came,
and days went.... Just then something ... something----” The doctor
paused. “Upon my word, I don’t know how to express myself.”... Once
more he helped himself to the snuff; he laughed, and swallowed his tea
in a gulp. “Well, not to beat about the bush, my patient ... how should
one put it? ... she fell in love with me.... Or rather, you see, it
was not exactly that ... but ... upon my word, how should one----” The
doctor grew embarrassed and blushed.
“No,” he went on with some animation; “how could she fall in love with
me? One must know one’s own value. She was an educated, clever, and
well-read girl; while I had almost entirely forgotten even the little
Latin that I once knew. As for my looks”--the doctor surveyed himself
with a smiling glance--“it seems to me I also have nothing to boast of.
Still, God did not make me a fool; I will not call black that which is
white. I know a thing or two. For instance, I understood perfectly that
Alexandra Andreyevna--that was her name--did not actually love me, but
rather felt a sort of friendliness towards me, or perhaps it was just
respect. Though it is possible she herself misunderstood this feeling,
yet she was in such a state that--well, you may judge for yourself....
However,” the doctor added, as he continued his broken speeches, which
he uttered without stopping to take breath, and with evident confusion,
“it seems I have gotten off the track somewhat.... You simply will not
understand what I am saying.... Well, I will try to tell everything in
its order.”
He finished his glass of tea, and, speaking more calmly, resumed his
story.
“That’s the way it happened. My patient grew worse and worse. You,
my friend, are not a physician; therefore, it is hard for you to
understand just what the young doctor experiences in his soul when
he begins to suspect that the disease is mastering him. Where is his
self-confidence then? Your courage simply oozes out of you; words can’t
describe it. A notion takes possession of you that you have forgotten
all you ever knew, that the patient has lost faith in you, and that
the others are beginning to notice your bewilderment and to report
new symptoms to you reluctantly; they glance at you from under their
eyebrows, they whisper among themselves.... How mortifying! There
should be some medicine, you permit yourself to think, to counteract
this disease--if you only knew which one! Perhaps that’s the one. You
try it--no, that’s not it! You haven’t given the mixture sufficient
time to work ... and you try another. Or you turn the pages of your
pharmacopœia ... thinking you might hit upon something.... In the
meantime a person is dying; another doctor might have saved him. A
consultation is necessary, you argue to yourself; you don’t feel like
taking the entire responsibility. What a fool you are made to look,
under the circumstances! After a time, of course, you get used to it.
A person dies--well, it isn’t your fault, you have done everything
according to rules. It is even more painful when the relatives show
blind faith in you, while in your own heart you know you are unable to
help.
“It was such a faith that the family of Alexandra Andreyevna exhibited
towards me, forgetting that the daughter was in danger. I too, on my
part, reassured them that it was nothing; and all the time my heart
was in my mouth. To add to my misfortunes, the roads grew so bad from
the thaw that it took the driver a whole day sometimes to fetch the
medicines.
“As for me, I remained in the room of the patient, couldn’t tear myself
away. I used to tell her amusing anecdotes and to play cards with
her. I sat through whole nights with her. Her mother used to thank me
with tears in her eyes; but I thought to myself, ‘I’m not worthy of
your thanks.’ To be candid with you--nothing is to be gained now by
concealing the truth--I fell in love with my patient. And Alexandra
Andreyevna too became attached to me; there were times indeed when
she wouldn’t permit any one but me in her room. She loved to chat
with me--she’d ask me where I had studied, how I lived, who were my
kin, whom did I know? I felt that she had no right to talk; and yet
I couldn’t think of forbidding her. I’d sometimes put my hands to my
head, and I’d reproach myself: ‘What are you doing, murderer?’...
And she’d take my hand and hold it, and continue to look at me long,
very long; at times she would turn away, utter a sigh, and then she
would mutter, ‘How good you are!’ Meanwhile her hands were burning;
her eyes grew large and dark. ‘Yes,’ she would say; ‘you are a good,
kind man, not at all like our neighbors ... not in the least.’...
How my poor heart would go a-fluttering! And all the time ‘Alexandra
Andreyevna, be quiet,’ I’d say to her.... ‘Believe me, I am grateful,
I don’t know how I have earned it ... only, please be quiet, for
God’s sake, be quiet.... Everything shall come out all right, and
you shall get well.’ I should tell you, however,” added the doctor,
bending forward and raising his eyebrows, “that they had had little
to do with the neighbors, because the poorer folk weren’t up to them,
while pride stood between them and the rich. I tell you, they were a
highly-educated family--which was flattering to me, to be sure.
“From my hands alone she would take her medicine.... She’d raise
herself, poor girl, with my help, swallow it, and then glance at
me.... How my poor heart would go a-fluttering! And all the time she
was growing worse and worse. ‘She will die,’ was my thought, ‘she will
certainly die.’ Believe me, I would as lief have descended into the
grave myself; and there was her mother standing about; her sisters
too were anxious, as they looked into my eyes.... Surely their faith
couldn’t last much longer. ‘Well, what today?’ they’d ask. ‘Nothing,
nothing,’ I’d reply; but, in truth, my mind was in a whirl.
“One night I sat as usual at the bedside of my patient. The maid too
was sitting in the room, and snoring for all she was worth.... She too,
poor girl, was exhausted. Alexandra Andreyevna had been feeling badly
all that evening; the fever tormented her. Until midnight she tossed
about, and finally fell asleep; at least, she lay motionless. In a
corner, before the ikon, a lamp was burning. I sat there, my head in my
hands, dozing.
“Suddenly--it was as if some one gave me a thrust in the side--I raised
my head.... Good God! Alexandra Andreyevna, with her eyes wide open,
was gazing at me.... Her lips were parted, her cheeks burning. ‘What
is the matter?’ ‘Doctor, am I going to die?’ ‘God forbid!’ ‘No, Doctor,
no, please don’t tell me that I shall live ... don’t tell me.... If you
only knew ... listen to me, for God’s sake, don’t conceal from me my
true state!’ She said this with panting breath. ‘If I were only sure
that I shall die ... I’d tell you all, all!’ ‘Alexandra Andreyevna,
I entreat you!’ ‘Listen to me,’ she said: ‘I haven’t slept at all; I
have been looking at you a long time.... For God’s sake! ... I believe
you; you are a good man and an honest man; I conjure you by all
that is holy upon earth--to tell me the truth! If you only knew how
important it is that I should know!... Doctor, for God’s sake, tell
me, am I in danger?’ ‘What am I to tell you, Alexandra Andreyevna, I
beg of you?’ ‘I entreat you, for God’s sake!’ ‘I can’t conceal it from
you, Alexandra Andreyevna, you are really in danger, but the Lord is
merciful.’... ‘I shall die, I shall die!’... And she actually seemed
overjoyed; her face lit up with radiance; I became alarmed. ‘Don’t
be afraid, don’t be afraid; death does not terrify me.’ Suddenly she
raised herself, and propped herself up on her elbow. ‘Well, now I can
tell you that I am grateful to you from my very soul, that you are a
good, honest man, and that I love you.’... I gazed on her as on one
mad; it was painful to me, as you may well understand.... ‘Do you hear?
I love you!’... ‘Alexandra Andreyevna, how have I earned your love?’
‘No, no, you don’t understand me ... thou dost not understand me.’[3]
... And suddenly she stretched out her arms, seized my head between her
hands, and kissed me.... Believe me, I nearly cried out.... I threw
myself on my knees and hid my head in the pillows. She was silent;
her fingers trembled in my hair; I could hear her weeping. I tried
to quiet her, to reassure her.... I really don’t know what I said to
her. ‘You’ll awaken the maid, Alexandra Andreyevna,’ I said to her....
‘Indeed, I am grateful ... believe me ... calm yourself.’ ‘Enough,
enough,’ she repeated. ‘God be with them all; let them awaken, let
them come--it is all the same; since I shall die.... But why do you
tremble, why are you afraid? Lift your head.... Or perhaps you don’t
love me, perhaps I have been deceived.... If so, please forgive me.’
‘Alexandra Andreyevna, what are you saying? ... I love you, Alexandra
Andreyevna.’ She looked straight into my eyes, and opened her arms.
‘Then embrace me.’...
“To speak candidly, I can’t quite comprehend how it was that I didn’t
lose my mind that night. There was the feeling that she was consuming
herself, also that she was not in her senses; and that were it not
for the fact that she considered herself as dying, she wouldn’t have
thought of me. Say what you will, it’s a hideous thought to be dying
at twenty years of age without having loved some one; that is what
tortured her, that is why in her desperation she clung to me--do you
grasp the idea? She held me there in her embrace. ‘Have pity on me,
Alexandra Andreyevna, and have pity on thyself,’ I said to her. ‘Why,
should I?’ was her reply. ‘What is there to pity, since I must die?’...
She repeated this incessantly. ‘If I only knew that I’d remain alive
and go among respectable young ladies, I’d feel ashamed, dreadfully
ashamed ... but what does it matter to me now?’ ‘Who told you you’re
going to die?’ ‘Oh, no, enough of this, you shan’t fool me, you
don’t know how to lie, look at yourself.’ ‘You shall live, Alexandra
Andreyevna, I shall save you; then we will ask your mother for her
blessing.... We will marry, we will be happy.’ ‘No, no, I have your
word for it, I must die.... You had promised me.... You told me so.’...
“I felt bitter at heart, and for many reasons. And judge for yourself;
often small things happen, trifling in themselves, yet they are
painful. It occurred to her to ask me my Christian name. As ill luck
will have it, I am called Trifon; yes, Trifon, Trifon Ivanich. In the
house I was simply called Doctor. There was no help for it. ‘Trifon,
miss,’ I replied. She looked amused, and she shook her head; then
she whispered something in French--something that didn’t sound quite
nice; then she laughed; it was unpleasant to me, I assure you. In such
a manner I passed almost the entire night with her. In the morning
I left her, almost not in my own senses. I reëntered her room later
in the morning, after tea. Good God! she was hardly recognizable; a
corpse couldn’t have looked worse. I swear to you, upon my honor, I
really can’t understand how I endured the torture. Three days and
three nights more my patient lingered ... and what nights they were!
And the things she said to me!... Then the final night--imagine to
yourself; I was sitting beside her, and there was in my heart but
one prayer to God: ‘Take her as soon as possible, and me also.’...
Suddenly, unexpectedly, her mother entered the room.... I had already
told her the day before that there was but little hope, and that it
would be well to have a priest. The sick girl, seeing her mother,
blurted out, ‘I’m glad you came.... Look at us, we love each other, we
have promised ourselves to each other!’ ‘What is she saying, Doctor,
what is she saying?’ I grew deathly pale. ‘She’s delirious, it’s the
fever.’... But she went on: ‘Enough, enough, only a little while ago
you spoke differently to me, and even accepted a ring from me ... why
do you dissemble? My mother is good-hearted, she will forgive. She will
understand; but I’m dying--there’s no reason why I should lie; give me
your hand.’... I sprang up and ran out of the room. The old mother, of
course, guessed the true state of affairs.
“I’ll not go on, however, tiring you with any further details. As it
is, I find it painful to recall it all. The girl died the next day. May
the Holy Kingdom be hers!” added the doctor quickly and with a sigh.
“Before she died she requested her kin to go out of the room and to
leave me alone with her. ‘Forgive me,’ she said to me. ‘I perhaps am
guilty before you ... my illness ... but, believe me, I never loved
any one so much ... don’t forget me ... take care of my ring.’”
The doctor turned away his face; I took his hand.
“Eh!” he sighed, “let’s chat about something else, or perhaps you’d
rather have a game of ‘preference,’ for a trifle? It’s not for our
kind to give way to elevated feelings. There’s but one thing left for
us--to manage that our children don’t squall, and our wives don’t
scold. Since those days, you see, I have entered, as one might say,
into the legal bonds of matrimony.... Well.... I married a merchant’s
daughter, who brought me a _dot_ of seven thousand rubles. Her name is
Akulina; it goes just right with Trifon. She is an ill-tempered dame,
but fortunately she sleeps all day long.... Did you say ‘preference’?”
We began to play preference, at a copeck. Trifon Ivanich succeeded in
winning from me two rubles and a half, and left late, much gratified
with his victory.