Chapter 14 Anyuta

Anyuta In one of the lowest-rent rooms in the "Lisbon" apartment, Stepan Klochkov, a third-year medical student, went from corner to corner, reciting his medical texts by heart.This kind of non-stop nervous reciting made his mouth dry and his forehead sweat. Anyuta, the woman who lived with him, was sitting on a stool by the window, and the sides of the window pane were covered with frost.Anyuta was a short, thin, dark-haired woman of about twenty-five, with a very pale face and gentle gray eyes. She hunched over and embroidered the collar of a men's shirt with red thread.She is rushing to do it. ... The wall clock in the corridor rustled and struck twice. It was two o'clock in the afternoon, but the small room had not been cleaned.The quilt was crumpled, pillows, books, women's clothes were thrown everywhere, a large dirty basin was filled with soapy water, and there were cigarette butts floating on the water, there was some rubbish on the floor, everything seemed to be piled up in one place, Deliberately messed up and crumpled up. ... "The right lung is divided into three parts ..." Klochkov recited. "Boundary! The upper part is on the front wall of the chest cavity, from top to bottom until the fourth or fifth rib, on the side, from top to bottom to the fourth rib, ... on the back, from top to bottom spina scapulae①..." Klochkov raised his eyes to the ceiling, trying to imagine the parts he had just read.He didn't get a clear idea, so he groped his upper ribs through his waistcoat.

"These ribs are like the keys of a piano," he said. "In order not to be mistaken, they must be learned by touch. Then they must be studied on mannequins and living people. ...Hey, Anyuta, let me fix the location! " Anyuta put down her work, took off her coat, and straightened her body.Klochkov sat down opposite her, frowned, and began counting her ribs. "Well. . . . the first rib cannot be felt. . . . it is behind the collarbone. . . . This must be the second rib. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Why are you shrinking back?"

"Your fingers are cold!" "Come, come, . . . you can't die. Don't you wriggle. Here's the third rib, then, and here's the fourth. . . . You look so thin, but your ribs are barely palpable. ... this is the second, ... this is the third. ... No, the numbers will be messed up like this, and the concept is not clear. ... this needs to be drawn. ...Where is my charcoal pencil? " Klochkov took the charcoal pencil and drew parallel lines on Anyuta's chest according to the position of the ribs. "Very well. That's all you need to know. . . . Well, now you can even tap a few times and practice auscultation. Stand up, then!"

Anyuta stood up and raised her chin.Klochkov tapped her breast lightly, and was so absorbed in this work that he did not notice that Anyuta's lips, nose, and fingers were blue with cold.Anyuta couldn't stop shaking, but at the same time, she was worried that the medical students would find out that she was shaking, so they stopped drawing with charcoal pencils and knocking, so they would do poorly when the exams came. "It's all clear now," said Klochkov, stopping his tapping. "You just sit like this, don't erase the lines drawn by the charcoal, I will take this time to recite the text a little bit."

The medical students walked up and down again, reciting words non-stop.Anyuta looked like a tattooed savage, with black lines drawn on her chest, sitting curled up in the cold, thinking.She seldom speaks, is always silent, always thinking about this and that. ... In the past six or seven years, she has moved around in these apartments, and she has known five people like Klochkov.They were all college graduates now, established in society, and, of course, like the upper class, they had long since forgotten her.One of them now lives in Paris, two are physicians, one is a painter, and the last is said to be even a professor.Klochkov was sixth. ... Soon even this one will graduate and enter the society.There is no doubt that his future is bright, and Klochkov will probably become a big man, but his current situation is terrible: Klochkov has no tobacco, no tea, and only four little sugar left. block.She had to finish her work quickly, take it to the ordering lady, get twenty-five kopecks for it, and then go buy tea and tobacco.

"Can I come in?" A voice came from outside the door. Anyuta hurriedly put a woolen shawl over her shoulders.In came the painter Fechesov. "I have one thing to ask of you," he said to Klochkov, his eyes peering wildly from under the loose hair on his forehead. "Do me a favor and lend me your pretty girl for two hours! You know I'm painting a picture, and I can't do it without a model!" "Ah, yes!" agreed Klochkov. "Go, Anyuta!" "I'm not going to suffer that!" Anyuta said softly. "Hey, come on! People made this request for art, not for any frivolous things. Since you can help, why don't you help?"

Anyuta began to dress. "And what are you painting?" asked Klochkov. "I'm painting Psyche. It's a good subject, but I can't get it right somehow, so I keep looking for all kinds of models. I painted one model yesterday, and her legs It's blue. I asked, why are your legs blue? She said it was because her stockings were faded. You've been reciting books! Lucky man, you've been patient." "The knowledge of medicine is absolutely impossible if you don't memorize it." "Well. . . Excuse me for my harsh words, Klochkov, you live in such a mess! God knows how you live!"

"What do you mean? You can't live without it... I only get twelve rubles a month from my father, and it's hard to live decently on that money." "That's a good word..." said the painter, frowning in disgust, "but it can still be better. . . . An educated man must be an esthetician. Isn't that true? But you, devil I know what's going on! The bed is not made, there's sewage, garbage,...yesterday's porridge is still on the plate,...tsk tsk tsk!" "It's true..." said the medical student, embarrassed, "but Anyuta has no time to clean today. She's been busy all the time."

When the painter and Anyuta went out, Klochkov lay down on the couch, began reciting a book while lying down, and then fell asleep unknowingly.He awoke an hour later, resting his head on his fists, and began to brood gloomily.He couldn't help but think of the painter's saying that an educated person must be an esthetician, and his environment, in his view now, is indeed disgusting and abominable.He saw, as if with the eyes of his mind, his future, when he would receive patients in his study, and drink tea in the spacious dining-room, accompanied by his wife, who was a woman of class.

So now the basin filled with sewage and floating cigarette butts looks very ugly.Anyuta also looked ugly, shabby and shabby. ... He made up his mind that no matter what, he had to break up with her immediately. When she came back from the painter and took off her fur coat, he got up from the couch and said to her solemnly: "Listen to me, my dear. . . . Sit down and listen. We've parted!" In a word, I don't want to live with you anymore." Anyuta came back from the painter's house very tired, almost exhausted.She stood for a long time as a model, which made her face thin and haggard, and her chin sharpened.She didn't answer a word to what the medical student said, but her lips quivered.

"You'll agree, sooner or later we're going to score anyway," said the medical student. "You are kind and kind, you are not stupid, you will understand..." Anyuta put on her fur coat again, silently wrapped her work with a piece of paper, and gathered the thread and needle together .On the window sill she found a small paper packet with four small pieces of sugar in it, and she put it on the table next to her books. "This is your... candy..." she said softly, turning away, trying to hide her tears. "Why, why are you crying?" asked Klochkov. He walked up and down the room in a panic, saying: "You're a strange woman, really. . . . You know perfectly well that we must part. We can't be together forever." Picking up her only small bundle, she had turned to say goodbye to him, but he took pity on her. "Just let her stay here for another week?" he thought to himself. "Really, let her stay for a few more days, and I will ask her to go in a week." Annoyed at his weakness, he yelled at her sternly: "Why, what are you doing standing there! If you want to go, go, if you don't want to go, take off your fur coat and stay! You stay!" Anyuta remained silent, took off her fur coat slowly, and then blew her nose just as slowly.She sighed, and walked silently to her usual seat, to the stool by the window. The college student took his textbooks and started walking up and down between the two corners again. "The right lung is divided into three parts..." he recited. "The upper part is on the front wall of the chest cavity, from top to bottom until the fourth or fifth rib...." Someone in the aisle shouted at the top of his voice: "Grigory, bring the samovar!" "Notes" ①Latin: scapula. ②The incarnation of the human soul in Greek mythology appears in the image of a maiden who falls in love with Eros, the god of love.