Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 18, 2025
"I hear you are ill?" he said to Shtchiptsov, twirling round on his heel. "What's wrong with you? What's wrong with you, really? . . ." Shtchiptsov did not speak nor stir. "Why don't you speak? Do you feel giddy? Oh well, don't talk, I won't pester you . . . don't talk. . . ."
If only I could go to Vyazma!" A pause followed. After a silence Shtchiptsov suddenly jumped up and seized his cap. He looked distraught. "Good-bye! I am going to Vyazma!" he articulated, staggering. "And the money for the journey?" "H'm! . . . I shall go on foot!" "You are crazy. . . ."
He too, like the tragic man, stared at Shtchiptsov for a long time, then sighed like a steam-engine, and slowly and deliberately began untying a parcel he had brought with him. In it there were twenty cups and several little flasks. "You should have sent for me and I would have cupped you long ago," he said, tenderly baring Shtchiptsov's chest. "It is easy to neglect illness."
The latter covered him up with a quilt and an overcoat, advised him to get into a perspiration, and went away. The night came on; Shtchiptsov had drunk a great deal of brandy, but he did not sleep.
Shtchiptsov remained silent and stared disconsolately at the floor. "You must have caught cold," said Sigaev, taking him by the hand. "Oh, dear, how hot your hands are! What's the trouble?" "I wa-ant to go home," muttered Shtchiptsov. "But you are at home now, aren't you?" "No. . . . To Vyazma. . . ." "Oh, my, anywhere else!
You see, it's stupid . . . contemptible indeed!" Recovering his composure and setting his feelings in order, Sigaev began comforting Shtchiptsov, telling him untruly that his comrades had decided to send him to the Crimea at their expense, and so on, but the sick man did not listen and kept muttering about Vyazma . . . . At last, with a wave of his hand, the comic man began talking about Vyazma himself to comfort the invalid.
Have you been boozing, or . . . are you ill, or what? But why don't you speak? I am asking you: are you ill?" Shtchiptsov did not speak. In spite of the paint on his face, the comic man could not help noticing his striking pallor, the drops of sweat on his forehead, and the twitching of his lips.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking