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Updated: June 1, 2025
Klimov stared at her grey hair, could not understand, was alarmed for Katy, and asked: "But where is she, aunty?" The old woman, who had already forgotten Klimov and remembered only her grief, said: "She caught typhus from you and ... and died. She was buried the day before yesterday."
"Baby!" laughed the doctor. "Mammy, bye-bye!" Klimov laughed, too, and when the doctor went away he fell into a sound sleep. He woke up with the same joyfulness and sensation of happiness. His aunt was sitting near the bed. "Well, aunt," he said joyfully. "What has been the matter?" "Spotted typhus." "Really. But now I am well, quite well! Where is Katya?" "She is not at home.
Klimov put on his greatcoat mechanically and left the train, and he felt as though it were not himself walking, but some one else, a stranger, and he felt that he was accompanied by the heat of the train, his thirst, and the ominous, lowering figures which all night long had prevented his sleeping. Mechanically he got his luggage and took a cab.
Klimov listened to him, thought a little, and heaved a sigh. "Well, so be it," he said. "May God forgive you. Only don't lie in future, young man. Nothing degrades a man like lying . . . yes, indeed! You are a young man, you have had a good education. . . ."
His legs and arms, as before, felt cramped, his tongue clove to his palate, and he could hear the chuckle of the Finn's pipe.... By the bed, growing out of Pavel's broad back, a stout, black-bearded doctor was bustling. "All right, all right, my lad," he murmured. "Excellent, excellent.... Jist so, jist so...." The doctor called Klimov "my lad."
Klimov, who was feeling rather unwell, and not at all inclined to answer questions, hated him with all his heart. He thought how good it would be to snatch his gurgling pipe out of his hands and throw it under the seat and to order the Finn himself into another car. "They are awful people, these Finns and ... Greeks," he thought. "Useless, good-for-nothing, disgusting people.
"Excuse me, what's that?" muttered Klimov, turning crimson and gazing open-eyed at the actor. "I know Varvara Nikolayevna well: she's my niece." Podzharov was embarrassed, and he, too, opened his eyes wide. "How's this?" Klimov went on, throwing up his hands. "I know the girl, and . . . and . . . I am surprised. . . ."
His chest and stomach heaved with delicious, happy, tickling laughter. His whole body from head to foot was overcome by a sensation of infinite happiness and joy in life, such as the first man must have felt when he was created and first saw the world. Klimov felt a passionate desire for movement, people, talk.
At night-time by turn two shadows came noiselessly in and out; they were his aunt and sister. His sister's shadow knelt down and prayed; she bowed down to the ikon, and her grey shadow on the wall bowed down too, so that two shadows were praying. The whole time there was a smell of roast meat and the Finn's pipe, but once Klimov smelt the strong smell of incense.
His chest and stomach trembled with a sweet, happy, tickling laughter. From head to foot his whole body was filled with a feeling of infinite happiness, like that which the first man must have felt when he stood erect and beheld the world for the first time. Klimov had a passionate longing for people, movement, talk.
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