The Russian Masters: Works by Dostoevsky, Chekhov, Tolstoy, Pushkin, Gogol, Turgenev and More. Максим Горький

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СКАЧАТЬ He doesn’t believe in medicine?

      Pierrot: No, apparently only in you.

      Doctor: What a curious invalid! Your pulse, please. Oho, I can't count quickly enough! Show your tongue.

      Harlequin: To whom?

      Doctor: To me!

      Harlequin: Oh, to you? Delighted! (Shows his tongue.)

      Doctor: Thank you.

      Harlequin: Please. (Shows his tongue again.)

      Doctor: Enough, enough!

      Harlequin: Oh, that's quite all right! (Shows it again.)

      Doctor: I’ve seen it already.

      Harlequin: Just as you like. (Puts in his tongue.)

      Doctor: I’ve got to listen to you.

      Harlequin: What shall I talk about?

      Doctor: No, I say: I’ve got to listen to you.

      Harlequin: Well, and I ask you, what about?

      Doctor: You don’t understand me.

      Harlequin: You? No, no, no, never! People like me can see right through you; but people like you, I’ll eat my hat, can never understand people like me!

      Doctor: He’s raving. Very well! Now, allow me to lay my head upon your heart! It’s necessary in order to ——

      Harlequin: But your wife isn’t jealous?

      Doctor: He’s got a strong fever. If my ears aren’t burned, it’ll be a piece of luck. Yes, yes, you’re very ill; but let’s hope you’ll soon be well. (To Pierrot.) There’s no hope; the machine is spoiled. (To Harlequin.) You’ll live a long time yet. (To Pierrot.) He'll die very soon. (To Harlequin.) You did very well to send for me. (To Pierrot.) You’d better have sent for a coffin-maker. (To Harlequin.) You’ve a healthy system. (To Pierrot.) And that won’t help him. (To Harlequin.) You’ve only got to be cured. (To Pierrot.) And that’s no use.

      Harlequin: What do you advise me?

      Doctor: You must go to bed early. No excitements. Drink absolutely nothing. Don’t eat anything sharp, salt, fat, spiced, bitter, milky, over-cold, over-hot, very, very sweet, or very, very filling. Quiet habits, mustn’t get roused. Always mind draughts. Keep quite away from frivolity.

      Harlequin: Very well; but is a life like that worth living?

      Doctor: That’s your affair.

      Harlequin: What illness have I got?

      Doctor: Old age.

      Harlequin: Why, I could be your son!

      Doctor: You’re too impudent for that. Good-bye. (To Pierrot.) And who pays for the visit ? (Pierrot nods towards Harlequin.)

      Doctor (again to Harlequin): Good-bye.

      Harlequin: Good-bye. (Doctor goes out undecidedly and stops.) Have you forgotten anything?

      Doctor: Have you forgotten anything?

      Harlequin: No, nothing; I thoroughly remember all your instructions. Don’t be uneasy.

      Doctor: No, no; I’m not uneasy about that.

      Harlequin: Then about what?

      Doctor: H’m. Speaking between ourselves, you’ve forgotten to pay me for my visit.

      Harlequin: Impossible! How curious!

      Doctor: But please don’t be angry with me.

      Harlequin: Good heavens, no!

      Doctor: Then good-bye.

      Harlequin (shaking his hand feelingly): Good-bye, doctor, good-bye.

      Doctor: H’m. You’re just as forgetful again.

      Harlequin: Yes, yes. There’s a coincidence! You’re quite right. It would be impudent of me to maintain the opposite.

      Doctor: Well, there you are; I’m reminding you.

      Harlequin: I’m heartily grateful.

      Doctor: There’s no need for gratitude.

      Harlequin: No! Good heavens!

      Doctor: And so — my fee?

      Harlequin: You’ll get it when I get well, when you’ve cured me.

      Doctor: Yes; but I ought to tell you that I reckon to cure all illnesses except the incurable; but yours ——

      Harlequin: Well, then, when an improvement comes, when your advice begins to work. But then, who knows? Perhaps you lied. Why should I pay then?

      Doctor: In that case I must inform you that — that, judging from the condition of your system, you won’t live even till to-morrow.

      Harlequin (jumping out of bed) : What! In that case, why the devil should I pay?

      Doctor: But when you die, who’ll pay me?

      Harlequin: But for what, let me ask you?

      Doctor: How, for what?

      Harlequin: If I actually die to-day, then what’s the use of your art that can’t save me from death? And if I survive, then again it’s no use if it knows less than an ignorant fortune-teller.

      Doctor: I didn’t come here to talk philosophy.

      Harlequin: I know why you came.

      Doctor: No insinuations, if you please.

      Harlequin: He calls that insinuations. (Pulling out a purse from under his pillow.) Here’s what you came for. (Goes to the door and holds out the money.)

      Doctor (reaching out) : Thank you. (Harlequin laughs, and runs out at one side and in at the other, the Doctor after him. He does this three times, and then gives the Doctor the money.)

      Harlequin: What do you say to my playfulness?

      Doctor: You know, sir — here’s the best of luck in the other world — it’s the first time I’ve seen a dying man like you. What’s that noise you’re making?

      Harlequin: That’s my heart beating. (Noise of a steam-engine.)

      Doctor: And that?

      Harlequin: My breathing.

      Doctor: And you're still on your legs?

      Harlequin: Oh, yes! And I’ve СКАЧАТЬ