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"Eat!" she said. Looking into his bowl, Pashka saw some rich cabbage soup, and in the soup a piece of meat, and thought again that it was very nice at the doctor's, and that the doctor was not nearly so cross as he had seemed at first.

Instead of answering, Pashka puffed out his cheeks, and blew out the air. "Why did you gobble it all up?" said the nurse reproachfully. "What are you going to eat your meat with?" She went and fetched another piece of bread. Pashka had never eaten roast meat in his life, and trying it now found it very nice. It vanished quickly, and then he had a piece of bread left bigger than the first.

It was now sleeping.... Its huts, its church with the belfry, its trees, stood out against the gray twilight and were reflected darkly in the smooth surface of the river. I waked Pashka for fear he should fall out and began cautiously going down. "Have we got to Lukovo?" asked Pashka, lifting his head lazily. "Yes. Hold the reins!..." I led the horse down the hill and looked at the village.

I was seized with a feeling of loneliness, misery, and horror, as though I had been flung down against my will into this great hole full of shadows, where I was standing all alone with the belfry looking at me with its red eye. "Pashka!" I cried, closing my eyes in horror. "Well?" "Pashka, what's that gleaming on the belfry?" Pashka looked over my shoulder at the belfry and gave a yawn.

"He complains about you: 'This, he says, 'is no woman, but some log of wood, a piece of ice. I sent him Pashka." "Eh, what a disgusting man!" Manka puckered up her face and spat aside. "Butts in with his conversations. Asks: 'Do you feel when I kiss you? Do you feel a pleasant excitement? An old hound. 'I'll take you, he says, 'and set you up!"

"The little lad has an ulcer on his elbow, sir," answered his mother, and her face assumed an expression as though she really were terribly grieved at Pashka's ulcer. "Undress him!" Pashka, panting, unwound the kerchief from his neck, then wiped his nose on his sleeve, and began deliberately pulling off his sheepskin. "Woman, you have not come here on a visit!" said the doctor angrily.

"Who can tell?" This brief conversation with the boy reassured me for a little, but not for long. Pashka, seeing my uneasiness, fastened his big eyes upon the light, looked at me again, then again at the light.... "I am frightened," he whispered. At this point, beside myself with terror, I clutched the boy with one hand, huddled up to him, and gave the horse a violent lash. "It's stupid!"

His mother was aghast, as though she had not expected this summons, and taking Pashka by the hand, she led him into the room. The doctor was sitting at the table, mechanically tapping on a thick book with a little hammer. "What's wrong?" he asked, without looking at them.

If she were not given to eat, she would not even ask; but if food were brought, she would eat with greediness, right with her hands. She became so slovenly and forgetful, that it was necessary to remind her of certain necessary functions in order to avoid unpleasantness. Emma Edwardovna did not send out Pashka to her steady guests, who asked for Pashka every day.

Tamara asked cautiously: "Is it possible, then, that you aren't at all, at all sorry?" "But for me you aren't sorry?" and she passed her hand over the red stripe that slashed her throat. "And for yourself you aren't sorry? And not sorry for this Liubka, miserable as she is? And not sorry for Pashka? You're huckleberry jelly, and not a human being!"