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Updated: May 11, 2025
Aratov once more stared intently at his aunt, and laughed aloud.... The figure of the good old lady in her nightcap and dressing-jacket, with her long face and scared expression, was certainly very comic. All the mystery surrounding him, oppressing him everything weird was sent flying instantaneously. 'No, Platosha dear, there's no need, he said. 'Please forgive me for unwittingly troubling you.
Platosha gave in, and only sighed more than ever, and murmured, 'Lord, succour us! whenever she saw his fingers stained with iodine.
And this time she was looking straight at him, coming towards him.... On her head was a wreath of red roses.... He was all in agitation, he sat up.... Before him stood his aunt in a nightcap adorned with a broad red ribbon, and in a white dressing-jacket. 'Platosha! he said with an effort. 'Is that you? 'Yes, it's I, answered Platonida Ivanovna ... 'I, Yasha darling, yes.
Aratov rarely went up to her, and if he wanted anything, used always to call, in his delicate voice, from his study: 'Aunt Platosha! However, she made him sit down, and sat all alert, in expectation of his first words, watching him through her spectacles with one eye, over them with the other. She did not inquire after his health nor offer him tea, as she saw he had not come for that.
During dinner Arátoff chatted a great deal with Platósha, questioned her about old times, which, by the way, she recalled and transmitted badly, as she was not possessed of a very glib tongue, and had noticed hardly anything in the course of her life save her Yáshka. She merely rejoiced that he was so good-natured and affectionate that day!
And at dinner, as he sat facing Platosha, he suddenly recalled her midnight appearance, recalled that abbreviated dressing-jacket, the cap with the high ribbon and why a ribbon on a nightcap? all the ludicrous apparition which, like the scene-shifter's whistle in a transformation scene, had dissolved all his visions into dust!
He even made Platósha repeat the tale of how she had heard him shout, had taken fright, had leaped out of bed, had not been able at once to find either her own door or his, and so forth. In the evening he played cards with her and went off to his own room in a somewhat sad but fairly tranquil state of mind.
A few years previously, his father, a provincial gentleman of small property, had moved to Moscow together with him and Platonida Ivanovna, whom he always, however, called Platosha; her nephew, too, used the same name.
"Platósha" submitted, and merely sighed more frequently than ever, and whispered "Lord, help!" as she gazed at his fingers stained with iodine.
Arátoff rarely entered her room, and if he needed anything he always shouted in a shrill voice from his study: "Aunt Platósha!" But she made him sit down and, in anticipation of his first words, pricked up her ears, as she stared at him through her round spectacles with one eye, and above them with the other.
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