rnestly, squeezed his
hand, seemed as though he desired to say something, but waved his hand,
and uttered the word "_Karamzin!_" Mademoiselle Karamzin was not in the
house; but they instantly sent for her, and she arrived almost
immediately. Their interview only lasted a moment; but when Katerina
Andreevna was about to leave the bedside, he called her and said, "_Sign
me with the cross_," and then kissed her hand. In the mean time, a dose
of opium which had been given eased him a little; and they began to
apply to his stomach emollient fomentations instead of the cold
effusions. This was a relief to the sufferer; and he began, without a
word of resistance, to perform the prescriptions of the doctors, which
he had previously refused obstinately to do, being terrified by the idea
of prolonging his tortures, and ardently desiring death to terminate
them. But he now became as obedient as a child; he himself applied the
compresses to his stomach, and assisted those who were busied around
him. In short, he was now apparently a great deal better. In this state
he was found by Dr Dahl, who came to him at two o'clock. "_I am in a bad
way, my dear fellow_," said Pushkin, with a smile, to Dahl. But Dahl,
who actually entertained more hopes than the other physicians, answered
him, "We all hope; so you must not despair either." "_No_," he cried;
"_I cannot live; I shall die. It seems that it must be so._" At this
moment, his pulse was fuller and steadier. A slight general fever began
to show itself. They put on some leeches: the pulse grew more even,
slower, and considerably lighter. "I caught," says Dahl, "like a
drowning man at a straw. With a firm voice, I pronounced the word
_hope_; and was about to deceive both myself and others." Pushkin,
observing that Dahl was growing more sanguine, took him by the hand, and
said--"_There is nobody there?_" "No one." "_Dahl, tell me the truth,
shall I die soon?_" "We have hopes of you, Pushkin--really, we have
hopes." "_Well, thank you!_" he replied. As far as it appears, he had
only once flattered himself with the consolation of hope: neither before
nor after this moment did he feel any trust in it. Almost the whole
night (that is, of the 29th, during the whole of which Dahl sate by the
bedside, and I, Viazemskii, and Vielhorskii, in the next room,) he held
Dahl's hand. He often would take a spoonful of water, or little lump of
ice, into his mouth, doing every thing himself: taking the tumble