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Updated: May 13, 2025
That's of no consequence of course it can be transferred, but the point is that the lodge wants doing up." "Yes, it would have to be done up," said Andrey Yefimitch after a moment's thought. "If the corner lodge, for instance, were fitted up as a dispensary, I imagine it would cost at least five hundred roubles. An unproductive expenditure!" Everyone was silent for a space.
The complete absence of antiseptic treatment and the cupping roused his indignation, but he did not introduce any new system, being afraid of offending Andrey Yefimitch. He regarded his colleague as a sly old rascal, suspected him of being a man of large means, and secretly envied him. He would have been very glad to have his post.
There was nothing on earth so good that it had not something nasty about its first origin. When Andrey Yefimitch undertook his duties he was apparently not greatly concerned about the irregularities at the hospital.
In his presence Andrey Yefimitch usually lay on the sofa with his face to the wall, and listened with his teeth clenched; his soul was oppressed with rankling disgust, and after every visit from his friend he felt as though this disgust had risen higher, and was mounting into his throat.
"You go alone and let me get home! I entreat you!" "On no account," protested Mihail Averyanitch. "It's a marvellous town." Andrey Yefimitch had not the strength of will to insist on his own way, and much against his inclination went to Warsaw.
"I see no particular reason to rejoice," said Andrey Yefimitch, who thought Ivan Dmitritch's movement theatrical, though he was delighted by it. "Prisons and madhouses there will not be, and truth, as you have just expressed it, will triumph; but the reality of things, you know, will not change, the laws of nature will still remain the same.
Oppressed by such reflections, Andrey Yefimitch relaxed his efforts and gave up visiting the hospital every day. His life was passed like this. As a rule he got up at eight o'clock in the morning, dressed, and drank his tea. Then he sat down in his study to read, or went to the hospital.
Andrey Yefimitch knew that such surroundings were torture to feverish, consumptive, and impressionable patients; but what could be done? In the consulting-room he was met by his assistant, Sergey Sergeyitch a fat little man with a plump, well-washed shaven face, with soft, smooth manners, wearing a new loosely cut suit, and looking more like a senator than a medical assistant.
He had no cap on, and his bare feet were thrust into goloshes; in his hand he had a little bag of coppers. "Give me a kopeck!" he said to the doctor, smiling, and shivering with cold. Andrey Yefimitch, who could never refuse anyone anything, gave him a ten-kopeck piece. "How bad that is!" he thought, looking at the Jew's bare feet with their thin red ankles. "Why, it's wet."
He was glad of the opportunity to smooth over his fault of the previous day and to be reconciled, and in his heart thanked Hobotov, who did not even allude to yesterday's scene and was evidently sparing him. One would never have expected such delicacy from this uncultured man. "Where is your invalid?" asked Andrey Yefimitch. "In the hospital. . . . I have long wanted to show him to you.
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