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Updated: May 13, 2025
"No matter . . ." thought Andrey Yefimitch, wrapping himself in his dressing-gown in a shamefaced way and feeling that he looked like a convict in his new costume. "It's no matter. . . . It does not matter whether it's a dress-coat or a uniform or this dressing-gown." But how about his watch? And the notebook that was in the side-pocket? And his cigarettes? Where had Nikita taken his clothes?
On both occasions when Andrey Yefimitch was taking leave of him and wishing him good-night, he answered rudely and said: "Go to hell!" And Andrey Yefimitch did not know now whether to go to him for the third time or not. He longed to go.
The doctor began to have a buzzing in his ears and palpitations of the heart, but out of delicacy could not bring himself to beg his friend to go away or hold his tongue. Fortunately Mihail Averyanitch grew weary of sitting in the hotel room, and after dinner he went out for a walk. As soon as he was alone Andrey Yefimitch abandoned himself to a feeling of relief.
Mihail Averyanitch looked upon the doctor as an honourable man, yet he suspected that he had accumulated a fortune of at least twenty thousand. Now learning that Andrey Yefimitch was a beggar, that he had nothing to live on he was for some reason suddenly moved to tears and embraced his friend. Andrey Yefimitch now lodged in a little house with three windows.
He meant to go on softly and politely, but against his will he suddenly clenched his fists and raised them above his head. "Leave me alone," he shouted in a voice unlike his own, blushing crimson and shaking all over. "Go away, both of you!" Mihail Averyanitch and Hobotov got up and stared at him first with amazement and then with alarm. "Go away, both!" Andrey Yefimitch went on shouting.
When the patients complained to him of being hungry or of the roughness of the nurses, he would be confused and mutter guiltily: "Very well, very well, I will go into it later . . . . Most likely there is some misunderstanding. . ." At first Andrey Yefimitch worked very zealously. He saw patients every day from morning till dinner-time, performed operations, and even attended confinements.
And stirred by a feeling akin both to pity and disgust, he went into the lodge behind the Jew, looking now at his bald head, now at his ankles. As the doctor went in, Nikita jumped up from his heap of litter and stood at attention. "Good-day, Nikita," Andrey Yefimitch said mildly. "That Jew should be provided with boots or something, he will catch cold." "Certainly, your honour.
Thinking that Hobotov wanted to distract his mind with an outing, or perhaps really to enable him to earn something, Andrey Yefimitch put on his coat and hat, and went out with him into the street.
A week later it was suggested to Andrey Yefimitch that he should have a rest that is, send in his resignation a suggestion he received with indifference, and a week later still, Mihail Averyanitch and he were sitting in a posting carriage driving to the nearest railway station. The days were cool and bright, with a blue sky and a transparent distance.
Ivan Dmitritch listened attentively and put questions, but suddenly, as though recalling something terrible, clutched at his head and lay down on the bed with his back to the doctor. "What's the matter?" asked Andrey Yefimitch. "You will not hear another word from me," said Ivan Dmitritch rudely. "Leave me alone." "Why so?" "I tell you, leave me alone. Why the devil do you persist?"
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