The Greatest Works of Anton Chekhov. Anton Chekhov

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      CHAPTER XXVI

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      When I left the Count I went to the room where Olga was lying…

      A little blue lamp was burning in the room and faintly lighted up her face… It was impossible either to read or write by its light. Olga was lying on her bed, her head bandaged up. One could only see her pale sharp nose and the eyelids that closed her eyes. At the moment I entered the room her bosom was bared and the doctors were placing a bag of ice on it. Olga, it seemed, was still alive. Two doctors were attending on her. When I entered, Pavel Ivanovich, screwing up his eyes, was auscultating her heart with much panting and puffing.

      The district doctor, who looked a worn-out and sickly man, was sitting pensively near the bed in an armchair and seemed to be feeling her pulse. Father Jeremiah, who had just finished his work, was wrapping up the cross in his stole and preparing to depart.

      ‘Pëtr Egorych, do not grieve!’ he said with a sigh and looked towards the corner of the room. ‘Everything is God’s will. Turn for protection to God.’

      Urbenin was seated on a stool in a corner of the room. He was so much changed that I hardly recognized him. Want of work and drink during the last month had told as much on his clothes as on his appearance; his clothes were worn out, his face too.

      The poor fellow sat there motionless, supporting his head on his fists and never taking his eyes off the bed… His hands and face were still stained with blood… He had forgotten to wash them…

      Oh, that fatal presentiment of my soul and of my poor bird!

      Whenever the noble bird which I had killed screamed out his phrase about the husband who killed his wife, Urbenin’s figure always arose before my mind’s eye. Why?… I knew that jealous husbands often kill their unfaithful wives; at the same time I knew that such men as Urbenin do not kill people… And I drove away the thought of the possibility of Olga being killed by her husband as something absurd.

      ‘Was it he or not he?’ I asked myself as I looked at his unhappy face.

      And to speak candidly I did not give myself an affirmative answer, despite the Count’s story and the blood I saw on his hands and face.

      ‘If he had killed her he would have washed off that blood long ago,’ I said to myself, remembering the proposition of a magistrate of my acquaintance: ‘A murderer cannot bear the blood of his victim.’

      If I had wished to tax my memory I could have remembered many aphorisms of a similar nature, but I must not anticipate or fill my mind with premature conclusions.

      ‘My respects!’ the district doctor said to me. I am very glad you have come… Can you tell me who is master here?’

      ‘There is no master… Chaos reigns here,’ I answered.

      ‘A very good apophthegm, but it does not assist me,’ the district doctor answered with bitterness. ‘For the last three hours I have been asking, imploring to have a bottle of port or champagne sent here and not a soul has deigned to listen to my prayer! They are all as deaf as posts! They have only just brought the ice I ordered three hours ago. What does it mean? A woman is dying here, and they only seem to laugh! The Count is pleased to sit in his study drinking liqueurs, and they can’t bring even a wineglass here! I wanted to send to the chemist in the town, and I was told all the horses are worn out, and there’s nobody who can go as they are all drunk… I wanted to send to my hospital for medicines and bandages and they favoured me with a fellow who could hardly stand on his legs. I sent him two hours ago, and what do you think? They tell me he has only just started! Is that not disgusting? They’re all drunk, rude, ill-bred! They all seem idiots! By God, it is the first time in my life I’ve come across such heartless people!’

      The doctor’s indignation was justifiable. He had not exaggerated, rather the contrary… A whole night would have been too short a time for pouring out one’s gall on all the disorders and malpractices that could be found on the Count’s estate. The servants were all abominable, having been demoralized by the want of work and supervision. There was not a single manservant among them who could not have served as a model for the type of servant who had lived long and feathered his nest at the Count’s expense.

      I went off to get some wine. After dealing a few blows here and there, I succeeded in obtaining both champagne and Valerian drops, to the unspeakable delight of the doctors. An hour later the doctor’s assistant came from the hospital bringing with him all that was necessary.

      Pavel Ivanovich succeeded in pouring into Olga’s mouth a tablespoon of champagne. She made an effort to swallow and groaned. Then they injected some sort of drops under the skin.

      ‘Olga Nikolaevna!’ the district doctor shouted into her ear. ‘Olga Ni-ko-la-evna!’

      I doubt if she will regain consciousness!’ Pavel Ivanovich said with a sigh. ‘The loss of blood has been too great; besides the blow she received on the head with some blunt instrument must have caused concussion of the brain.’

      It is not my business to decide if there had been concussion of the brain or not, but Olga opened her eyes and asked for something to drink… The stimulants had had effect.

      ‘Now you can ask her whatever you require…’ Pavel Ivanovich said, nudging my elbow. ‘Ask.’

      I went up to the bed. Olga’s eyes were turned on me.

      ‘Where am I?’ she asked.

      ‘Olga Nikolaevna!’ I began, ‘do you know me?’

      During several seconds Olga looked at me and then closed her eyes.

      ‘Yes!’ she groaned. ‘Yes!’

      ‘I am Zinov’ev, the examining magistrate. I had the honour of being acquainted with you, and if you remember, I was best man СКАЧАТЬ