Sketches from a Hunter's Album by Ivan Turgenev

room. She began talking to me, asking me where I’d done my training, what my life was like, who my parents were, who’d I go visiting? I felt I shouldn’t let her talk, but I couldn’t really stop her, definitely stop her, you know. I’d seize myself by the head and tell myself, “What’re you doing, you blackguard?” But she’d take my hand and hold it, look at me, gaze at me, gaze and gaze at me and turn away and sigh and say, “How good you are!” Her hands were so hot, her eyes so round and longing. She’d say: “Yes, you’re good, you’re a good man, you’re not like our neighbours… No, you’re not like them at all, not at all… How is it we haven’t met before?” And I’d say: “Alexandra Andreyevna, don’t fret… Believe me, I don’t feel, I’ve no idea why I should deserve this, only just don’t fret, for God’s sake, don’t fret… everything’ll be all right, you’ll get well.” But I ought to tell you, by the way,’ the doctor added, bending forward and raising his eyebrows, ’that they didn’t have much to do with the neighbours, because the small fry weren’t really up to them and they were too proud to curry favour with the rich. I’m telling you they were an extremely well-educated family, so for me, you know, it was a privilege to be there. She’d only accept medicine from me… she’d raise herself, the poor girl, with my help, and have the medicine and look at me and my heart’d literally beat faster and faster. But all the while she was getting worse, worse and worse, and I thought she’s bound to die, bound to. Believe me, I was ready to he down in the coffin myself, what with the mother and the sisters seeing it all and looking me straight in the eyes, their confidence gradually slipping away: “What’s wrong?How is she?” “Oh, it’s nothing, nothing at all!” And how could it be nothing at all when her mind was already being affected? So there I am one night, sitting once again beside the sick girl. The maid’s also there, snoring her head off… you couldn’t blame her really, she’d been chivvied from pillar to post. Alexandra Andreyevna’d felt bad all evening; the fever’d tormented her. Right up until midnight she’d been tossing and turning and then she’d finally gone to sleep; or at least she lay there quietly. The lamp in the corner was burning before the icon and I sat there, you know, bent up, also snoozing. Suddenly, as if someone’d given me a shove in the side, I turned round and there – good God! – was Alexandra Andreyevna looking me straight in the eyes, with her lips apart and her cheeks literally on fire. “What’s wrong?” “Doctor, I’m going to die, aren’t I?” “God forbid!” “No, doctor, no, please, don’t tell me I’ll live… don’t say that… Oh, if only you knew!… Listen, for God’s sake don’t hide from me what my condition is really!” She spoke, taking such quick breaths. “If I know for sure I’m going to die, then I’ll tell you everything, everything!” “Please, Alexandra Andreyevna, please!” “Listen, I’ve not slept at all and I’ve been watching you… for God’s sake… I trust you, you’re a good man, you’re an honest man, I beg you in the name of all that’s holy, tell me the truth! If only you knew how important it is for me… Doctor, for God’s sake tell me, am I in danger?” “What can I tell you, Alexandra Andreyevna? Please don’t…” “For God’s sake I implore you!” “I can’t hide from you, Alexandra Andreyevna, that you
are
in danger, but God is merciful…” “I’ll die, I’ll the…” And she was