Wife! Wife!
An angel from heaven has come to us . . .”
“What is this, my God!” stammered the old woman, running out of the drawing room, and understanding nothing, she fell on the spot in the hall at Anna Sergeyevna’s feet and began kissing her skirt like a mad woman.
“What are you doing?” protested Anna Sergeyevna; but Arina Vlasyevna did not heed her and Vassily Ivanovich could only repeat,
“An angel! An angel!”
“Wo ist der Kranke?Where is the patient?” said the doctor at last in some indignation.
Vassily Ivanovich came to his senses.
“Here, this way, please follow me, werthester Herr Kollege,” he added, remembering his old habits.
“Ah!” said the German with a sour grin.
Vassily Ivanovich led him into the study.
“A doctor from Anna Sergeyevna Odintsov,” he said, bending right down to his son’s ear, “and she herself is here.”
Bazarov suddenly opened his eyes.
“What did you say?”
“I tell you that Anna Sergeyevna is here and has brought this gentleman, a doctor, with her.”
Bazarov’s eyes looked round the room.
“She is here . . . I want to see her.”
“You will see her, Evgeny; but first we must have a talk with the doctor.
I will tell him the whole history of your illness, as Sidor Sidorich (this was the district doctor’s name) has gone, and we will have a little consultation.”
Bazarov glanced at the German.
“Well, talk away quickly, only not in Latin; you see I know the meaning of‘jam moritur.’” “Der Herr scheint des Deutschen machtig zu sein,” began the new disciple of Aesculapius, turning to Vassily Ivanovich.”
“Ich . . . gabe . . . We had better speak Russian,” said the old man.
“Ah! so that’s how it is . . . by all means . . .”
And the consultation began.
Half an hour later Anna Sergeyevna, accompanied by Vassily Ivanovich, entered the study.
The doctor managed to whisper to her that it was hopeless even to think that the patient might recover.
She looked at Bazarov, and stopped short in the doorway — so abruptly was she struck by his inflamed and at the same time deathlike face and by his dim eyes fixed on her.
She felt a pang of sheer terror, a cold and exhausting terror; the thought that she would not have felt like this if she had really loved him — flashed for a moment through her mind.
“Thank you,” he said in a strained voice; “I never expected this.
It is a good deed.
So we see each other once more, as you promised.”
“Anna Sergeyevna was so good . . .” began Vassily Ivanovich.
“Father, leave us alone . . .
Anna Sergeyevna, you will allow it, I think, now . . .”
With a motion of his head he indicated his prostrate helpless body.
Vassily Ivanovich went out.
“Well, thank you,” repeated Bazarov. “This is royally done. They say that emperors also visit the dying.”
“Evgeny Vassilich, I hope . . .”
“Ah, Anna Sergeyevna, let’s speak the truth.
It’s all over with me.
I’ve fallen under the wheel.
So it turns out that there was no point in thinking about the future.
Death is an old joke, but it comes like new to everyone.
So far I’m not afraid . . . but soon I’ll lose consciousness and that’s the end!” (He waved his hand feebly.) “Well, what have I to say to you . . . I loved you? That had no sense even before, and less than ever now.
Love is a form, but my own form is already dissolving.
Better for me to say — how wonderful you are!
And now you stand there, so beautiful. . .”
Anna Sergeyevna involuntarily shuddered.
“Never mind, don’t be agitated . . . Sit down over there . . . Don’t come close to me; you know my disease is infectious.”
Anna Sergeyevna walked quickly across the room and sat down in the armchair near the sofa on which Bazarov was lying.
“Noble-hearted,” he whispered. “Oh, how near, and how young, fresh and pure . . . in this disgusting room!