But when she entered the bright, tidy little room of the hospital
and saw Yegor sitting on the pallet propped against the wide bosom
of the pillow, and heard him laugh with zest, she was at once
relieved. She paused at the door, smiling, and listened to Yegor
talk with the physician in a hoarse but lively voice.
"A cure is a reform."
"Don't talk nonsense!" the physician cried officiously in a thin voice.
"And I'm a revolutionist! I detest reforms!"
The physician, thoughtfully pulling his beard, felt the dropsical
swelling on Yegor's face. The mother knew him well. He was Ivan
Danilovich, one of the close comrades of Nikolay. She walked up to
Yegor, who thrust forth his tongue by way of welcome to her. The
physician turned around.
"Ah, Nilovna! How are you? Sit down. What have you in your hand?"
"It must be books."
"He mustn't read."
"The doctor wants to make an idiot of me," Yegor complained.
"Keep quiet!" the physician commanded, and began to write in a
little book.
The short, heavy breaths, accompanied by rattling in his throat,
fairly tore themselves from Yegor's breast, and his face became
covered with thin perspiration.
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