THE DISTRICT DOCTOR
By Ivan Turgenev
Returning from a distant field one autumn day, I fell ill with a bad cold. Luckily for me, the fever caught me in the district town, in a hotel. I sent for the doctor. After a half-hour, the district physician appeared—a dark, meagre little man. He prescribed the customary sudorific and a mustard-plaster; and dexterously inserting into his cuff my five-ruble note—coughing dryly and glancing sideways as he did so—he was about to depart, but somehow began to talk and remained. The fever made me restless; anticipating a sleepless night, I was glad to have some one to chat with. Tea was brought in. The doctor was in a conversational mood. He was not a bad fellow, and expressed himself well and divertingly. How strange it is with men! You have known one for a long time and are intimate with him, yet not once have you ventured to talk with him frankly, from your very soul; another you have hardly become acquainted with, and yet—either you tell him or else he tells you, as if in confessional, his very inmost thoughts. I do not know how I earned the confidence of my new acquaintance; but he somehow or other “got started,”as they say, and told me a really remarkable tale, which I present here to the sympathetic reader. I shall try to express the story in the doctor’s own words.
“You don’t know,” he began in a faltering, trembling voice (such is the effect of the unmixed Berezovsk snuff)—“you don’t know the judge of this place, Pavel Luikich Muilov?... No?... Well, it doesn’t matter.” The doctor coughed and wiped his eyes. “Any way, to be exact, it happened during Lent, in the thaw season. I was sitting in the judge’s house, playing ‘preference.’ Our judge is a good fellow, and loves to play the game. Suddenly”—the doctor employed the wordsuddenlyoften—“I was informed that some one came for me. ‘What does he want?’ I asked. ‘It’s some one with a note; it must be from a sick person.’ I read the note, and, sure enough, it was from some one ill.... Well, all right—that, you see, is my bread.... The note was from a widow, and here was the case as she put it:
“My daughter is dying; come at once, for God’s sake! I am sending the horses to fetch you.”
“My daughter is dying; come at once, for God’s sake! I am sending the horses to fetch you.”
“But that was not all.... Her house was some twenty versts from town; a black night outdoors, and the roads simply mean! She wasas poor as a mouse, too. ‘Lucky,’ I thought, ‘if I get two rubles.’ Still, duty before everything—you can’t let a person die! Suddenly I handed over my cards to Councillor Kalliopin, and started for home. To be sure, there was a coach waiting for me near the porch; and a couple of working horses, very big-bellied, and with hides like felt; the driver, out of respect, was sitting with his hat off. ‘Well,’ said I to myself, ‘it’s plain to be seen your masters haven’t got much gold.’... You may laugh, but here is a fact worth considering.... When the driver sits like a prince, and keeps his cap on his head, and even laughs under his beard, and flourishes his whip—you may count on a couple of bank-notes! But this, you could see, was an altogether different matter. Still, there was no way out of it; duty before everything. Quickly I collected my most indispensable medicines, and off I went.
“Believe me, I don’t see how I got there. A wretched road, puddles, snow, mud, ruts, suddenly a dam burst somewhere—misery, in short! Any way, I got there. It was a small, thatched-roofed house. There was a light in the windows. It meant they were awaiting me. I was met by a little old lady, very dignified-looking, in a cap. ‘Save her!’ she cried. ‘She is dying!’ ‘Don’t be alarmed,’ I told her, and asked to be shownthe patient.... ‘This way, please!’
“I was led into a small but clean room, in one corner of which hung an ikon-lamp. On the bed lay a twenty-year-old maiden, unconscious; in a high fever. Here also were her two sisters, frightened and in tears. ‘Only yesterday,’ they said, ‘she was altogether well, and ate with appetite; but this morning she complained of pains in her head, and tonight suddenly she is like this.’... ‘Don’t be alarmed,’ I once more reassured them—as you know, it’s one of the doctor’s obligations—and proceeded to my task. I bled her, applied mustard-plasters, and prescribed a mixture. And all the time I couldn’t take my eyes from her—upon my word, I never saw such a face ... a beauty, in fact! I was torn by compassion. Such a lovely face, and eyes!... There, thank God, she had grown quieter; perspiration had set in. She was coming to herself; she glanced around her, smiled, moved her hand across her face.... Her sisters bent over her, they asked her, ‘What is the matter with you?’ ‘Nothing,’ she answered, and turned away.... When I looked again she was asleep. I advised quiet; and so we all, on our tiptoes, made our way out, and the maid alone remained in the room, in case of an emergency.
“In the drawing-room the samovar was steaming. They gave me tea, and I was invited to stay overnight.... I agreed; it was late, where else could I go? The little old lady continued to sigh. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said to her. ‘Your daughter shall live. And you too need some rest—it is two o’clock.’... ‘And you’ll see that I’m awakened if anything should happen?’ ... I promised.
“The old lady and the girls went to their rooms; my own bed was made in the drawing-room. I lay down, but could not sleep, which was unusual for me. I could not get my patient out of my mind. Finally, I could stand it no longer, and arose. I thought to myself I’d take a peep at her and see how she was coming along. Her bedroom was right next to the drawing-room. I opened the door quietly—and my heart beat violently. There was the maid asleep, her mouth agape; and snoring, mind you, the wretch! As for the patient, she lay with her face turned in my direction, her arms stretched out, poor girl! I approached closer. Suddenly she opened her eyes and fixed them on me!... ‘Who are you? Who are you?’... I became confused. ‘Don’t be frightened, miss. I’m the doctor come to attend to you.’ ‘You are the doctor?’ ‘Yes, the doctor.... Your mother sent totown for me; and in a day or two, with God’s help, we’ll put you on your feet.’ ‘Yes, yes, Doctor, please don’t let me die ... please.’ ‘Miss, what are you saying!’ ‘She’s feverish again,’ I thought to myself. I felt her pulse; sure enough, high fever. She looked at me ... and suddenly she took my hand.... ‘I will tell you,’ she went on, ‘why I do not wish to die. I will tell you, I will tell you ... now we are alone; only to you, to no one else.... Listen.’... I bent over her; she placed her lips to my very ear, brushing my cheek with her hair—I must confess, it made my head swim—and began to whisper.... I understood nothing.... Delirious.... She continued to whisper very rapidly; it didn’t at all sound like Russian. When she ceased she trembled, let her head drop on the pillow, and shook a warning finger at me. ‘Remember, Doctor, tell no one!’... Somehow, I managed to quiet her; I then gave her a drink, awakened the maid, and left her.”
At this juncture the doctor again, with a movement of exasperation, took a pinch of snuff, and for an instant seemed affected.
“However,” he continued, “the next day, contrary to my expectation, my patient did not improve. After some deliberation on my part,I suddenly made up my mind to remain, despite the fact that other patients were awaiting me.... As you know, one can’t afford to neglect these—the practice suffers. Well, in the first place, my patient was really in desperate straits; and then again, to confess the truth to you, I felt strongly attracted towards her; besides, I took a liking to the entire family. Though poor people, they were highly educated.... The father of the family was a learned man, an author; I need not add that he died poor. He managed, however, to give his children an excellent bringing-up. He also left quite a number of books. Whether it was because of this that I attended the patient so assiduously or for other reasons, there is no question that those in the house grew to love me like one of their own kin....
“In the meantime the thaw made the roads very bad; all communication, one might say, was cut off. The medicine was obtained from town with considerable difficulty.... The patient did not improve.... Days came, and days went.... Just then something ... something——” The doctor paused. “Upon my word, I don’t know how to express myself.”... Once more he helped himself to the snuff; he laughed, and swallowedhis tea in a gulp. “Well, not to beat about the bush, my patient ... how should one put it? ... she fell in love with me.... Or rather, you see, it was not exactly that ... but ... upon my word, how should one——” The doctor grew embarrassed and blushed.
“No,” he went on with some animation; “how could she fall in love with me? One must know one’s own value. She was an educated, clever, and well-read girl; while I had almost entirely forgotten even the little Latin that I once knew. As for my looks”—the doctor surveyed himself with a smiling glance—“it seems to me I also have nothing to boast of. Still, God did not make me a fool; I will not call black that which is white. I know a thing or two. For instance, I understood perfectly that Alexandra Andreyevna—that was her name—did not actually love me, but rather felt a sort of friendliness towards me, or perhaps it was just respect. Though it is possible she herself misunderstood this feeling, yet she was in such a state that—well, you may judge for yourself.... However,” the doctor added, as he continued his broken speeches, which he uttered without stopping to take breath, and with evident confusion, “it seems I have gotten off the track somewhat.... You simply will not understand whatI am saying.... Well, I will try to tell everything in its order.”
He finished his glass of tea, and, speaking more calmly, resumed his story.
“That’s the way it happened. My patient grew worse and worse. You, my friend, are not a physician; therefore, it is hard for you to understand just what the young doctor experiences in his soul when he begins to suspect that the disease is mastering him. Where is his self-confidence then? Your courage simply oozes out of you; words can’t describe it. A notion takes possession of you that you have forgotten all you ever knew, that the patient has lost faith in you, and that the others are beginning to notice your bewilderment and to report new symptoms to you reluctantly; they glance at you from under their eyebrows, they whisper among themselves.... How mortifying! There should be some medicine, you permit yourself to think, to counteract this disease—if you only knew which one! Perhaps that’s the one. You try it—no, that’s not it! You haven’t given the mixture sufficient time to work ... and you try another. Or you turn the pages of your pharmacopœia ... thinking you might hit upon something.... In the meantime a person is dying; another doctor might have saved him. A consultation isnecessary, you argue to yourself; you don’t feel like taking the entire responsibility. What a fool you are made to look, under the circumstances! After a time, of course, you get used to it. A person dies—well, it isn’t your fault, you have done everything according to rules. It is even more painful when the relatives show blind faith in you, while in your own heart you know you are unable to help.
“It was such a faith that the family of Alexandra Andreyevna exhibited towards me, forgetting that the daughter was in danger. I too, on my part, reassured them that it was nothing; and all the time my heart was in my mouth. To add to my misfortunes, the roads grew so bad from the thaw that it took the driver a whole day sometimes to fetch the medicines.
“As for me, I remained in the room of the patient, couldn’t tear myself away. I used to tell her amusing anecdotes and to play cards with her. I sat through whole nights with her. Her mother used to thank me with tears in her eyes; but I thought to myself, ‘I’m not worthy of your thanks.’ To be candid with you—nothing is to be gained now by concealing the truth—I fell in love with my patient. And Alexandra Andreyevna too became attached to me; there were times indeed when she wouldn’t permitany one but me in her room. She loved to chat with me—she’d ask me where I had studied, how I lived, who were my kin, whom did I know? I felt that she had no right to talk; and yet I couldn’t think of forbidding her. I’d sometimes put my hands to my head, and I’d reproach myself: ‘What are you doing, murderer?’... And she’d take my hand and hold it, and continue to look at me long, very long; at times she would turn away, utter a sigh, and then she would mutter, ‘How good you are!’ Meanwhile her hands were burning; her eyes grew large and dark. ‘Yes,’ she would say; ‘you are a good, kind man, not at all like our neighbors ... not in the least.’... How my poor heart would go a-fluttering! And all the time ‘Alexandra Andreyevna, be quiet,’ I’d say to her.... ‘Believe me, I am grateful, I don’t know how I have earned it ... only, please be quiet, for God’s sake, be quiet.... Everything shall come out all right, and you shall get well.’ I should tell you, however,” added the doctor, bending forward and raising his eyebrows, “that they had had little to do with the neighbors, because the poorer folk weren’t up to them, while pride stood between them and the rich. I tell you, they were a highly-educated family—which was flattering to me, to be sure.
“From my hands alone she would take her medicine.... She’d raise herself, poor girl, with my help, swallow it, and then glance at me.... How my poor heart would go a-fluttering! And all the time she was growing worse and worse. ‘She will die,’ was my thought, ‘she will certainly die.’ Believe me, I would as lief have descended into the grave myself; and there was her mother standing about; her sisters too were anxious, as they looked into my eyes.... Surely their faith couldn’t last much longer. ‘Well, what today?’ they’d ask. ‘Nothing, nothing,’ I’d reply; but, in truth, my mind was in a whirl.
“One night I sat as usual at the bedside of my patient. The maid too was sitting in the room, and snoring for all she was worth.... She too, poor girl, was exhausted. Alexandra Andreyevna had been feeling badly all that evening; the fever tormented her. Until midnight she tossed about, and finally fell asleep; at least, she lay motionless. In a corner, before the ikon, a lamp was burning. I sat there, my head in my hands, dozing.
“Suddenly—it was as if some one gave me a thrust in the side—I raised my head.... Good God! Alexandra Andreyevna, with her eyes wide open, was gazing at me.... Herlips were parted, her cheeks burning. ‘What is the matter?’ ‘Doctor, am I going to die?’ ‘God forbid!’ ‘No, Doctor, no, please don’t tell me that I shall live ... don’t tell me.... If you only knew ... listen to me, for God’s sake, don’t conceal from me my true state!’ She said this with panting breath. ‘If I were only sure that I shall die ... I’d tell you all, all!’ ‘Alexandra Andreyevna, I entreat you!’ ‘Listen to me,’ she said: ‘I haven’t slept at all; I have been looking at you a long time.... For God’s sake! ... I believe you; you are a good man and an honest man; I conjure you by all that is holy upon earth—to tell me the truth! If you only knew how important it is that I should know!... Doctor, for God’s sake, tell me, am I in danger?’ ‘What am I to tell you, Alexandra Andreyevna, I beg of you?’ ‘I entreat you, for God’s sake!’ ‘I can’t conceal it from you, Alexandra Andreyevna, you are really in danger, but the Lord is merciful.’... ‘I shall die, I shall die!’... And she actually seemed overjoyed; her face lit up with radiance; I became alarmed. ‘Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid; death does not terrify me.’ Suddenly she raised herself, and propped herself up on her elbow. ‘Well, now I can tell you that I am grateful to you from my very soul,that you are a good, honest man, and that I love you.’... I gazed on her as on one mad; it was painful to me, as you may well understand.... ‘Do you hear? I love you!’... ‘Alexandra Andreyevna, how have I earned your love?’ ‘No, no, you don’t understand me ... thou dost not understand me.’[3]... And suddenly she stretched out her arms, seized my head between her hands, and kissed me.... Believe me, I nearly cried out.... I threw myself on my knees and hid my head in the pillows. She was silent; her fingers trembled in my hair; I could hear her weeping. I tried to quiet her, to reassure her.... I really don’t know what I said to her. ‘You’ll awaken the maid, Alexandra Andreyevna,’ I said to her.... ‘Indeed, I am grateful ... believe me ... calm yourself.’ ‘Enough, enough,’ she repeated. ‘God be with them all; let them awaken, let them come—it is all the same; since I shall die.... But why do you tremble, why are you afraid? Lift your head.... Or perhaps you don’t love me, perhaps I have been deceived.... If so, please forgive me.’ ‘Alexandra Andreyevna, what are you saying?... I love you, Alexandra Andreyevna.’ She looked straight into my eyes, and opened her arms. ‘Then embrace me.’...
“To speak candidly, I can’t quite comprehend how it was that I didn’t lose my mind that night. There was the feeling that she was consuming herself, also that she was not in her senses; and that were it not for the fact that she considered herself as dying, she wouldn’t have thought of me. Say what you will, it’s a hideous thought to be dying at twenty years of age without having loved some one; that is what tortured her, that is why in her desperation she clung to me—do you grasp the idea? She held me there in her embrace. ‘Have pity on me, Alexandra Andreyevna, and have pity on thyself,’ I said to her. ‘Why, should I?’ was her reply. ‘What is there to pity, since I must die?’... She repeated this incessantly. ‘If I only knew that I’d remain alive and go among respectable young ladies, I’d feel ashamed, dreadfully ashamed ... but what does it matter to me now?’ ‘Who told you you’re going to die?’ ‘Oh, no, enough of this, you shan’t fool me, you don’t know how to lie, look at yourself.’ ‘You shall live, Alexandra Andreyevna, I shall save you; then we will ask your mother for her blessing.... We will marry, we will be happy.’‘No, no, I have your word for it, I must die.... You had promised me.... You told me so.’...
“I felt bitter at heart, and for many reasons. And judge for yourself; often small things happen, trifling in themselves, yet they are painful. It occurred to her to ask me my Christian name. As ill luck will have it, I am called Trifon; yes, Trifon, Trifon Ivanich. In the house I was simply called Doctor. There was no help for it. ‘Trifon, miss,’ I replied. She looked amused, and she shook her head; then she whispered something in French—something that didn’t sound quite nice; then she laughed; it was unpleasant to me, I assure you. In such a manner I passed almost the entire night with her. In the morning I left her, almost not in my own senses. I reëntered her room later in the morning, after tea. Good God! she was hardly recognizable; a corpse couldn’t have looked worse. I swear to you, upon my honor, I really can’t understand how I endured the torture. Three days and three nights more my patient lingered ... and what nights they were! And the things she said to me!... Then the final night—imagine to yourself; I was sitting beside her, and there was in my heart but one prayer to God: ‘Take her as soon as possible, and me also.’...Suddenly, unexpectedly, her mother entered the room.... I had already told her the day before that there was but little hope, and that it would be well to have a priest. The sick girl, seeing her mother, blurted out, ‘I’m glad you came.... Look at us, we love each other, we have promised ourselves to each other!’ ‘What is she saying, Doctor, what is she saying?’ I grew deathly pale. ‘She’s delirious, it’s the fever.’... But she went on: ‘Enough, enough, only a little while ago you spoke differently to me, and even accepted a ring from me ... why do you dissemble? My mother is good-hearted, she will forgive. She will understand; but I’m dying—there’s no reason why I should lie; give me your hand.’... I sprang up and ran out of the room. The old mother, of course, guessed the true state of affairs.
“I’ll not go on, however, tiring you with any further details. As it is, I find it painful to recall it all. The girl died the next day. May the Holy Kingdom be hers!” added the doctor quickly and with a sigh. “Before she died she requested her kin to go out of the room and to leave me alone with her. ‘Forgive me,’ she said to me. ‘I perhaps am guilty before you ... my illness ... but, believe me, I never loved anyone so much ... don’t forget me ... take care of my ring.’”
The doctor turned away his face; I took his hand.
“Eh!” he sighed, “let’s chat about something else, or perhaps you’d rather have a game of ‘preference,’ for a trifle? It’s not for our kind to give way to elevated feelings. There’s but one thing left for us—to manage that our children don’t squall, and our wives don’t scold. Since those days, you see, I have entered, as one might say, into the legal bonds of matrimony.... Well.... I married a merchant’s daughter, who brought me adotof seven thousand rubles. Her name is Akulina; it goes just right with Trifon. She is an ill-tempered dame, but fortunately she sleeps all day long.... Did you say ‘preference’?”
We began to play preference, at a copeck. Trifon Ivanich succeeded in winning from me two rubles and a half, and left late, much gratified with his victory.