at the coachman was gone for whole days together to get
medicine. And I never left the patient's room; I could not tear myself
away; I tell her amusing stories, you know, and play cards with her. I
watch by her side at night. The old mother thanks me with tears in her
eyes; but I think to myself, 'I don't deserve your gratitude.' I
frankly confess to you--there is no object in concealing it now--I was
in love with my patient. And Aleksandra Andreyevna had grown fond of
me; she would not sometimes let any one be in her room but me. She
began to talk to me, to ask me questions; where I had studied, how I
lived, who are my people, whom I go to see. I feel that she ought not
to talk; but to forbid her to--to forbid her resolutely, you know--I
could not. Sometimes I held my head in my hands, and asked myself,
"What are you doing, villain?"... And she would take my hand and hold
it, give me a long, long look, and turn away, sigh, and say, 'How good
you are!' Her hands were so feverish, her eyes so large and languid...
'Yes,' she says, 'you are a good, kind man; you are not like our
neighbours... No, you are not like that... Why did I not know you till
now!' 'Aleksandra Andreyevna, calm yourself,' I say... 'I feel,
believe me, I don't know how I have gained ... but there, calm
yourself... All will be right; you will be well again.' And meanwhile
I must tell you," continued the doctor, bending forward and raising
his eyebrows, "that they associated very little with the neighbours,
because the smaller people were not on their level, and pride hindered
them from being friendly with the rich. I tell you, they were an
exceptionally cultivated family; so you know it was gratifying for me.
She would only take her medicine from my hands ... she would lift
herself up, poor girl, with my aid, take it, and gaze at me... My
heart felt as if it were bursting. And meanwhile she was growing worse
and worse, worse and worse, all the time; she will die, I think to
myself; she must die. Believe me, I would sooner have gone to the
grave myself; and here were her mother and sisters watching me,
looking into my eyes ... and their faith in me was wearing away.
'Well? how is she?' 'Oh, all right, all right!' All right, indeed! My
mind was failing me. Well, I was sitting one night alone again by my
patient. The maid was sitting there too, and snoring away in full
swing; I can't find fault with the poor girl, though; she was worn out
too. Aleksandra An