sleepy at night.Varka, the nursemaid, a girl of thirteen, was holding a cradle in which a baby lay.She hummed a song in her mouth, her voice was so low that she could hardly hear: sleep, sleep well, I will sing you a song. ... In front of the statue there was a small green lamp burning; and across the room stretched from end to end a line, on which a child's diaper and a pair of large black trousers hung to dry.The ceiling was marked with a large green spot from the light of the small lamp, and the diapers and trousers cast long shadows on the stove, the cradle, Varka. ... As soon as the light of the small permanent lamp flickered, the green spots and shadows came alive and moved, as if being blown by the wind.The room was stuffy.There was a smell of cabbage soup and boot leather.

The little doll is crying.He has been crying hoarsely, exhausted, but still howling, no one knows when he will stop crying.Valka was already sleepy.Her eyelids were glued together, her head drooped, her neck ached.Neither her eyelids nor her lips could move. She felt as if her face had withered and turned into wood, and her head was as small as the tip of a needle. "Sleep, sleep well," she hummed, "I'll make you some porridge..." A cricket chirped in the stove.The boss and the helper, Afanasy, were snoring in the adjoining room through the door. ... The mournful creaking of the cradle, the humming of Varka himself, all these make up a lullaby at night, which is very pleasant to listen to in bed.But now the music stimulated and distressed her, because it made one fall asleep, but she could never sleep.God bless that this doesn't happen, if Valka falls asleep, the boss will beat her up.

The little ever-burning lamp kept blinking.Green spots and shadows came to life, crawled into Varka's half-closed, motionless eyes, and formed blurry phantasms in her half-awake brain.She saw dark clouds chasing each other in the sky, crying like little babies.But then the wind picked up, the clouds cleared, and Varka saw a wide road covered with mud.Along the avenue, there is a long line of trucks stretching out, pedestrians walking slowly with backpacks on their backs, and some shadows flicker in front of and behind them. On both sides of the avenue, through the gloomy cold fog, you can see the woods.Suddenly, those people with their bags and the shadows fell into the mud on the ground together. "What's the matter?" Varka asked. "Sleep, sleep!" they answered her.They were fast asleep, and they slept soundly. Crows and magpies sat on the wires, crying like little babies, trying to wake them up. ... "Sleep, sleep well, I'll sing you a song ..." Varka hummed, and at that moment she saw herself in a dark and stuffy farmhouse.

Her dead father Yefim Stepanov was rolling on the ground. She couldn't see him clearly, but she heard him writhing on the ground in pain, moaning and moaning.According to him, he had a "hernia."He was in so much pain that he couldn't say a word, he could only breathe in, and his teeth kept chattering, like beating a drum again and again: "Bu-bu-bu-bu..." Her mother Pilageya ran to Go to the manor and tell the master that Ye Feimu is going to die. She has been away for a long time, and it is time to come back.Varka lay on the hearth, did not sleep, and heard her father make the sound of "boo-boo-boo," but then she heard someone driving up to the farmhouse.It turned out that the master sent a young doctor, who happened to be a guest at the master's house from the city.The doctor entered the farmhouse, and no one could see him in the dark, but he could be heard coughing and the door closing with a click.

"Light the lamp," he said. "Bu-bu-bu..." Yefeimu replied. Pelageya threw herself on the stove, and started looking for the broken match jar.A minute passed in silence.The doctor fumbled in his pocket and lit a match. "I'll come as I go, sir, as I go," said Pelageya, running out of the farmhouse, and returning a moment later with a candle stub. Ye Feimu's face was flushed, his eyes were bright, and his eyes were particularly sharp, as if they pierced through the farmhouse and the doctor. "Oh, what's the matter? What are you trying to do?" the doctor said, bending down to get closer to him. "Hey! Have you been ill for a long time?"

"What, sir? Dying, sir, my time has come. . . . I can't live any longer. . . . " "Don't talk nonsense. . . . We'll cure you!" "As you please, sir. We are grateful, but we know that . The doctor worked around Ye Feimu for a quarter of an hour, then straightened up and said, "I have no cure. . . . You have to go to the hospital, where they will operate on you. Leave immediately. . . . You must go! Time!" It's late, everyone in the hospital is asleep, but that's all right, I'll just write you a note. Do you hear?" "But, my lord, how is he to be told?" said Pelageya. "We have no horses."

"It doesn't matter, I'll go and tell your master, and they will give you the horse." The doctor left, the candle was extinguished, and the sound of "boo-boo-boo" sounded again. ... Half an hour later, someone drove a cart to the farmhouse.It was the master who sent a cart to take Yefimu to the hospital.Ye Feimu packed up and left in the car. ... But then, a beautiful and sunny morning came, and Pelagaya was not at home, and she went to the hospital to see Yefim and see how he was doing.Somewhere a baby was crying, and Varka heard someone singing in her own voice: "Sleep, sleep well, and I will sing you a song..." Pilageya came back.She made the sign of the cross on her chest and whispered, "They operated on him at night, but in the morning he gave his soul to God. . . . May he go to heaven and rest forever. . . . It's late. . . I should have gone earlier. . . . " Varka went into the woods, where he wept bitterly.But suddenly, someone hit her on the back of the head, causing her to bump into a birch tree.She raised her eyes and saw her boss, the shoemaker, standing in front of her.

"What's the matter with you, bitch?" he said. "The child is crying and you are sleeping?" He twisted her ears hard, she shook her head, then continued to rock the cradle and hum her song.The green blotch, the dangling shadow of trousers and diapers, blinded her and soon occupied her mind again.She saw the muddy road again.The people with their bags and the shadows were already lying down and fast asleep.Varka looked at them and wished he could sleep too.She longed to lie down in comfort, but her mother Pelageya was beside her, urging her to go.The two of them rushed into the city to find work.

"For Christ's sake, give me some money!" her mother begged when she met a passer-by. "Show God's mercy, good sir!" "Bring the baby here!" A familiar voice answered her. "Bring the baby here!" said the voice again, this time roughly and with anger. "Are you asleep, scumbag?" Varka jumped up, looked around, and realized what was going on.There is neither avenue, nor Pilageya, nor pedestrians here, only the proprietress standing in the middle of the room, who is here to nurse her child.The fat, broad-shouldered landlady nursed the baby and coaxed him to be quiet, while Varka stood watching her and waited for her to finish.The air outside the window was turning blue, and the shadows and green spots on the ceiling were visibly fading.Morning will come soon.

"Take the baby!" said the landlady, fastening the front button of her shirt. "He's crying. Someone must have looked at him with poisonous eyes." Varka took the baby, put it in the cradle, and rocked it again.The green spots and shadows faded away, and nothing came into her mind to make her dizzy.But she was still sleepy, very sleepy!Varka put her head on the edge of the cradle and shook it with all her strength, trying to suppress the drowsiness, but her eyelids were still glued together, and her head was heavy. "Varka, light the stove!" The boss's voice came from outside the door.

This means that it is time to get up and go to work.Varka left the cradle and ran to the shed to fetch firewood.She was secretly happy.When a person runs or moves, he is not as sleepy as when he is sitting.She fetched wood, lighted the stove, and felt her log-like face open and her thoughts clear. "Varka, burn the samovar!" cried the landlady. Varka just chopped a small piece of wood, but just after lighting them and stuffing them into the samovar, he heard a new order: "Varka, clean the master's rain boots!" She just sat down on the floor, cleaned the pair of rain boots, and thought to herself: It would be great if she could put her head into these big and deep rain boots and sleep for a while. ...Suddenly the rain boots grew, swelled, and filled the room, and Varka dropped the brush on the ground, but immediately she shook her head, widened her eyes, and tried to look at things so that they wouldn't grow, and in her Floating in front of the eyes. "Varka, wash the outer steps, otherwise, it would be embarrassing for the customers to see!" Varka washed the steps, cleaned the room, started another stove, and went to the shop to buy things.There is a lot of work, and there is not even a minute to spare. But there is nothing more painful than standing at the kitchen table peeling potatoes.Her head slumped on the table, the potatoes danced before her eyes, the knife fell from her hand, and the fat, angry landlady rolled up her sleeves and walked up and down beside her, talking so loudly that it made a fuss. Varka's ears buzzed.Serving meals, washing clothes, and mending are also hard work.Sometimes she wished she didn't care about anything, just lay down on the ground and slept on it. The day passed.Seeing the darkness outside the window, Varka pressed his log-like temples and smiled slightly, not knowing why.The evening darkness caressed her eyes, which could not always be opened, and promised her a good sleep soon.In the evening, guests came to the boss's house. "Varka, burn the samovar!" cried the landlady. The samovar in the owner's house is very small, and she has to burn it five times before the guests can drink enough tea.After they had finished their tea, Varka stood still for another hour, looking at his guests and waiting for orders. "Varka, hurry and buy three bottles of beer!" She walked away, trying to run as fast as possible to get rid of her drowsiness. "Varka, hurry up and buy liquor! Varka, where is the corkscrew? Varka, get the herring out!" Finally, the guests finally left.The lights went out, and the boss and his wife went to bed. "Varka, shake the doll!" came the last order. Crickets chirped in the stove.The green patch on the ceiling, the shadows of those trousers and diapers, crawled into Varka's half-closed eyes again, and kept blinking at her, making her head feel dizzy. "Sleep, sleep well," she snorted, "I'll sing a song..." The little doll kept crying, crying hoarsely.Varka saw the dirt road again, the man with the bag, Pelagaya, and his father Yefim.She understood everything, and recognized everyone, but in her half-sleep and half-awake state, she just couldn't figure out what force was grabbing her hands and feet, oppressing her, preventing her from living.She looked around for that power, so she could avoid it, but she couldn't find it.At last, dying of exhaustion, with all her might, eyes wide open, she looked up at the green spot that was shaking and flickering, and listened to the cry of the baby, and found the enemy who would not let her live. It turned out that the enemy was the doll. she laughed.She felt strange: How could she not understand such a trivial matter before?That green spot, those shadows, and that cricket seemed to be laughing too, which seemed strange too. This false idea seized Varka.She stood up from the stool, smiled freely, and walked up and down the room without blinking her eyes.She thought that she would soon be able to get rid of the doll that bound her hands and feet, and she couldn't help but feel relieved and itchy in her heart. ...kill this doll, and sleep, sleep, sleep. ... She smiled, winked, and shook her finger threateningly at the green blotch.Varka slipped quietly to the cradle, bent down, and approached the doll.After strangling him to death, she quickly lay down on the ground, laughing with joy, because she could sleep.After half a minute, she was already fast asleep, like a dead person. ... dispute Grigory Ivanovich Ovchinnikov, the Zemstvo physician, was a man of about thirty-five, of a bad constitution and short-tempered, who, owing to his medical statistical work, was passionately fond of what he called "everyday life." problem” and become famous among colleagues.One morning he was rounding the wards in his hospital.Behind him, as usual, followed his doctor Mikhail Zakharovich, an elderly man with a fat face, glossy hair, and an earring in one ear. The doctor just started checking the ward, and there was one trivial thing that made him very suspicious, that is, the doctor's waistcoat was wrinkled and kept pushing up, even though the doctor kept pulling it down and smoothing it, it still remained. useless.The doctor's shirt was also wrinkled and turned up.On his long jacket, on his trousers, and even on his cravat, there were bits of white fluff stuck to it. ... Obviously, the doctor slept all night without taking off his clothes. Judging from the way he straightened his waistcoat and straightened his bow tie at the moment, the clothes wrapped him up uncomfortable. The doctor looked at him intently for a while, and understood what was going on.The doctor's body didn't shake, and he answered the questions in a reasonable way, but his face was dull and dull, his eyes were lifeless, his neck and hands were shaking, and his clothes were disheveled, especially as he tried to control himself and tried to cover himself. Circumstances—all this proves that he has just gotten up, hasn't slept enough, and has been drunk since last night, very drunk. ...He was experiencing the painful state of "smelling alcohol", very uncomfortable, obviously very dissatisfied with himself. The doctor had never liked the doctor, and he had various reasons for this.So now he felt a strong desire to say to the doctor: "I see you're drunk!" He suddenly hated the waistcoat, the long coat, the earrings on the fat ears, but he Restraining his resentment, he said gently and politely as usual: "Have you given milk to Gerasim?" "Yes, doctor . . . " Mihail Zakharitch also said mildly. While the doctor was talking to the patient Gerasim, while looking at the watch that recorded the temperature, the feeling of hatred came to him again.He held his breath so as not to speak, but he couldn't help it, so he gasped and asked rudely, "Why didn't you take your temperature?" "No, it's on it, doctor!" Mikhail Zakharitch said mildly, but he looked at the watch, and then convinced himself that the temperature hadn't been recorded, shrugged his shoulders in panic, and hesitated. "I don't know, doctor, probably Nadezhda Osipovna..." "And I haven't remembered since yesterday evening!" continued the doctor. "Damn you for drinking! You're still pretty drunk! Where's Nadezhda Osipovna?" The midwife Nadezhda Osipovna, who was supposed to be in the ward every morning when the dressing was changed, was not there.The doctor looked around and felt that the ward was not cleaned up, everything was messy, nothing was done, and everything was lifted up like the doctor's annoying vest, crumpled and fluffy, he wished he could He tore off his white coat, yelled and cursed for a while, threw everything away, and left without giving a damn.But he tried his best to control himself and continued to check the ward. After seeing the Gerasim, the doctor went on to look at a surgical patient with inflamed tissue of the entire right arm.The drug should be changed for this patient.The doctor sat down on the stool in front of him and worked on his arm. "They must have had a big drink at the name-day party yesterday..." he thought to himself as he slowly unwrapped the bandages. "Just wait, I want you to know what a name day is! But then again, what can I do? I can't do anything." He felt the abscess on the red and swollen arm and said, "Scalpel!" Mikhail Zakharitch, trying to show that he was on his feet and that he could do his job, went away, and quickly brought a scalpel. "Not this one! Get a new one," said the doctor. The doctor walked towards the chair in small steps, and there was a box on the chair, which contained the equipment for changing the medicine.He hastily rummaged through the boxes.He whispered to the nurses for a long time, so that the box kept moving and rustling on the chair, and twice dropped something on the floor.The doctor sat waiting, feeling his back hurt by their whispers and rustles. "Why haven't you brought it yet?" he asked. "You must have left them downstairs. ..." The doctor ran up to him and handed him two scalpels. At this moment, he inadvertently let out a breath at the doctor. "These two can't be used either!" The doctor said angrily. "I'm speaking to you in Russian: bring a new handful. But go to sleep and come back, you smell like the tavern! You're out of your mind!" "What kind of knife do you want?" the doctor asked angrily, shrugging his shoulders slowly. He hated himself and was secretly ashamed that the patients and nurses were staring at him.To show that he was not ashamed, he forced a smile, and repeated: "What kind of knife do you want?" The doctor felt tears welling up in his eyes, and his fingers trembled.He tried to restrain himself, and said in a trembling voice: "Go to bed and come back! I don't want to talk to drunks. . . . " "You can only reprimand me in business matters," continued the doctor, "if I, For example, if I drink alcohol, no one has the right to blame me. Am I not at work? What else do you want!Am I not working? " The doctor jumped up, not knowing what he was doing, swung his arms, and punched the doctor in the face with all his might.He didn't understand why he did it, but he felt great pleasure, because this punch hit the doctor's face, and the decent, confident, married and children, religious, pretentious man couldn't help shaking his body and jumping like a rubber ball. After a while, he sat down on the stool.The doctor wanted to punch again, but when he saw the pale and frightened faces of the nurses next to that hateful face, he no longer felt pleased, waved his hand, and ran out of the ward. In the courtyard he met Nadezhda Osipovna, a girl of about twenty-seven, with a sallow complexion and shaggy hair, entering the hospital. Her pink calico dress had a thin hem, so her steps were delicate.She messed up the dress? O? O? @? @音, every time she takes a step, she twists her shoulders and shakes her head, as if she is singing a happy song in her heart. "Hmph, goblin!" the doctor thought to himself, remembering that people in the hospital joked about calling midwives goblins.It pleased him to think that he was about to give a lesson to this shambling, self-pitying, richly dressed woman. "Where have you been?" he called, coming up to her. "Why aren't you in the hospital? The temperature isn't recorded, it's a mess everywhere, the doctor is drunk, and you don't get up until eleven o'clock! . . . Please find another job! Don't work here any longer! " The doctor returned to the apartment, took off his white coat abruptly, tore off the towel tied around his waist, angrily threw the two things to the corner of the wall, and then walked back and forth in the study. "My God, what kind of people are these, what kind of people are these!" he said. "These people are not helpers of work, but enemies of work! I can't do it here any longer! No! I have to go!" His heart was beating violently, his whole body was shaking, and he wanted to cry.In order to get rid of this state of mind, he comforted himself by saying that he was doing the right thing, and beating the healer was completely justified.The doctor thought to himself, first of all, the damn thing is that the doctor did not come to work in the hospital simply, but on the favor of his aunt, who worked as a nanny at the home of the chairman of the Zemstvo executive (this powerful My aunt came to the doctor by car, just as casually as at home, insisting on seeing the doctor first, out of order, this kind of situation is really disgusting).Doctors are undisciplined and have shallow knowledge. Even the little things he knows he doesn't understand at all.He drank, behaved rashly, was untidy, took bribes from the sick, and smuggled Zemstvo medicines.Everyone knew that he practiced medicine in private to make money, and he treated secret diseases of young ordinary citizens with medicines he had prepared himself.It would be fine if he was simply a quack doctor. Anyway, there are many such people, but he is a self-righteous, secretly tricking quack doctor.Without telling the doctor, he put blood-sucking cups on the outpatients, bled them, came to the operating table without washing his hands, and kept picking open the wounds with dirty probes. We defied medical skill of doctor and medical knowledge and medical procedures boldly. The doctor waited until his fingers were no longer trembling, then sat down at the table and wrote to the chairman of the Zemstvo executive: "Dear Lev Trofimovich! Removing Smirnovsky, the doctor, and denying me the right to find an assistant, I have to (not without regret, of course) ask you not to think of me as a doctor at such-and-such a hospital, and please take the trouble to find me another Your successors. Greetings to Lyubov Fyodorovna and Yus. My respects to you G. Ovchinnikov".The doctor read the letter and found that it was too short and not cold enough.Furthermore, it would be very inappropriate to greet Lyubov Fyodorovna and Yuss (the nickname given to the Chairman's youngest son) in official correspondence. "Why should there be any mention of Us in the letter?" thought the doctor, tearing up the letter, and began to think of another letter. "Your Excellency..." he thought, sitting by the open window, watching the duck lead the ducklings hastily, waddling, stumbling, down the road, probably to the pond.A little duck pecked something like an intestine on the road, its throat got stuck, and it screamed.Another little duckling ran up to it and pulled the thin intestine out of its mouth, only to find that its throat got stuck too. ... Far away, near the fence, in the lace-like shadows of the young lindens on the grass, Dalia, the cook, was walking up and down picking sorrel for soup. ... At this time, there was a voice. ... Zote, the coachman with a bridle in his hand, and Manuilo, a hospital worker in a dirty overcoat, were standing by the garage, talking about something and laughing. "They're talking about me beating the doctor..." thought the doctor. "Today the whole county will know about the trouble. . . . write:" Your Excellency!If your executive office doesn't release...' "The doctor knows very well that the executive office will not leave a doctor without him anyway, and would rather not have a doctor in the whole county than agree to treat Dr. Ovchinnikov as a doctor. The good ones let go. Probably as soon as Lev Trofimovitch received the letter, he would drive up to him in a three-horse carriage and say: "What are you doing, old man?My dear, what the hell is going on, Christ be with you!for what?What reason?Where is he?Call him, the bastard!Get rid of him!He must be driven away!Don't allow this scoundrel to stay here tomorrow! "Then he had dinner with the doctor, and after the meal he lay on his back on the dark red couch, covered his face with a newspaper, and began to snore. Take the doctor to his house to spend the night. The doctor will remain in the hospital after this incident, and the doctor cannot resign. But the doctor was unwilling to have such an ending.He hoped that the doctor's aunt would win. Regardless of his eight years of hard work, the Executive Office would not talk to him, and even happily accepted his resignation.He imagined how he would leave the hospital he was already familiar with, how he would write a letter to the "Physician", how his colleagues would send him sympathetic letters. ... At this time, the goblin appeared on the road.She stepped in small steps and messed up her clothes? O? O? @? @音, went to his window and asked: "Grigory Ivanitch, are you going to see the sick yourself, or are you not going?" But her eyes said, "You lost your temper just now, but now you've calmed down and felt embarrassed. I, too, have the magnanimity to ignore it." "Well, I'll go right away," said the doctor. He put on his white coat again, tied a towel around his waist, and walked towards the hospital. "It's not good to run away after I hit him..." he thought on the road. "It turned out to be like I was embarrassed or frightened. . ...Very bad! " He thought that as soon as he entered the ward, the patients would look at him awkwardly, and he would feel embarrassed, but when he really walked in, the patients lay calmly on the bed and hardly paid any attention to him.The consumptive Gerasim showed a complete indifference on his face, as if to say: "You are not satisfied with him, so give him a little lesson... you can't do otherwise, my lord." The doctor cut open two abscesses on the purple arms, bandaged them, and went to the women's ward, where he operated on a woman's eyes.The goblin followed him all the time, acting as his underhand, pretending as if nothing happened and the world was peaceful.After checking the ward, he began to see patients in the outpatient clinic.In the doctor's small consulting room, the windows were open.As long as you sit on the windowsill and bend your waist slightly, you can see a tender grass field a yard away.Yesterday evening there was a heavy thunderstorm, so the grass was a little down and bright.Not far from the window, there is a path leading to the valley, which seems to have just been washed, and on both sides of the path are some broken pharmacy containers, which have also been washed by the rain, and when the sun shines on them, they shine brightly. .In the distance, on the opposite side of the path, stood some young spruces, dressed in beautiful green clothes, and crowded each other.Behind them stood many birch trees, with trunks as white as paper, and looking out from the green leaves of the birch trees trembling slightly in the wind, one could see the bottomless blue sky.Whenever someone looked out of the window, the starlings hopping on the path would turn their stupid faces to the window, thinking to themselves: Should I be afraid?They decided they should be afraid, and one after the other they flew up to the top of the birch tree, uttering joyful cries, as if mocking the doctor for not being able to fly. ... In the strong smell of iodine, people can feel the vitality and fragrance of spring. ... how easy it is to breathe! "Anna Spilidonova!" the doctor called the patient by name. A young woman in red came into the consulting room and prayed for a while before the statue. "What's wrong with you?" asked the doctor. The woman squinted suspiciously at the door through which she came in, and then at the small door leading to the pharmacy. Then she went up to the doctor and whispered, "I don't have children!" "Who else hasn't registered?" shouted the goblin from the pharmacy. "Come here to register!" "He's a brute," thought the doctor, as he attended to the woman. "He made me beat a man for the first time in my life. I never did." Anna Spilidonova is gone.After she left, an old man suffering from moxibustion came in, followed by a woman with three children suffering from scabies, busy with work.The doctor did not show up.In the chemist's beyond the little door, clothes rustled, utensils jingled, and goblins chattered cheerfully.She came into the consulting room from time to time to help with operations or get prescriptions, and still pretended that everything was going well. "She was happy when I called the doctor," the doctor thought to himself when he heard the voice of the midwife. "She and the doctor got on like cats and dogs. She'd be very happy if he got fired. The nurses seemed to be secretly happy too. . . . How abominable it is!" Diagnosis work was very intense, but he felt that no matter whether the midwives, nurses or even patients, they all pretended to be indifferent and happy on purpose.They seemed to understand that he was ashamed and sad, but they pretended not to understand out of politeness.Wanting to show them that he was not at all ashamed, he exclaimed angrily, "You, I mean you! Please close the door, or the wind will blow in!" But he was really embarrassed, and his heart was heavy.After seeing forty-five patients, he walked out of the hospital in a calm manner.The midwife had already spared time to go home. At this time, with a bright red shawl on her shoulders, a cigarette in her mouth, and a flower in her fluffy hair, she hurried out of the yard, going somewhere, probably It's a doctor's visit or a visitor.Some patients sat on the threshold of the hospital, basking in the sun silently.The starlings were still rowdy, chasing the little beetles.The doctor looked to both sides and thought: Of these peaceful and peaceful lives, only two are completely disconnected , like two bad keys on a piano, useless at all, that's the doctor and him.The doctor is probably lying on the bed now, trying to sleep and sober up, but thinking of his mistake, humiliation, and loss of post, he can't sleep no matter what.His situation is miserable.The doctor, who had never beaten anyone before, felt as though he had lost his innocence forever.He no longer blamed the doctor, nor defended himself, just wondering: How could such a thing happen?He, a decent man, had never beaten a dog before, but now he actually beat a man!He went back to his apartment, lay down on the couch in the study, turned his face to the back of the sofa, and began to think: "He is a bad person who is harmful to work. He has been working here for three years. You made me angry, but then again, my behavior is not justified in any way. I used the power of the strong. He is my subordinate, made a mistake, got drunk, and I am his. Boss, correct, don't drink. . . . so I'm stronger. Second, I hit him in front of those who see me as an authority, so I set a bad example for them.  …" Someone Call the doctor for lunch. ... He drank a few spoonfuls of cabbage soup, got up from the table, and lay down on the sofa again. "So what now?" he continued thinking. "He should be satisfied as soon as possible. . . . But how? He is a practical man when it comes to duels, and he thinks it stupid, or does not understand the point of such things. If I go to the original I went to apologize to him in front of the nurses and patients in that ward, and this kind of apology could only satisfy me but not him. He, a bad guy, would take my apology as cowardice, thinking that I was afraid that he would go to his superiors to sue him. My plea. Besides, my apology will destroy the discipline in the hospital. Send him money? No, it's immoral, it's close to bribery. So, let's say, now bring this issue to our immediate head My superiors, that is, the executive department....It may reprimand me or dismiss me....But it will not do so. Besides, the executive department is not at all convenient to intervene in the internal affairs of the hospital, and it has no such kind of right. ..." About three hours after dinner, the doctor went to the pond to bathe, thinking to himself: "May I not do what everyone else does in similar cases? That is, let him take me to court. I am guilty." It is certain, and I do not intend to plead, that the conciliating judge will sentence me to prison. That way the offended will be satisfied, and those who regard me as an authority will see that I am wrong." The idea caught his fancy.He rejoiced, thinking that the matter had been settled successfully at last, and that there could be no more just solution. "Yeah, great!" he thought, diving into the water and seeing a school of tiny golden carp fleeing from him. "Let him file a complaint. It's very convenient for him. Anyway, our official relationship has broken down. After this trouble, one of us will not be able to stay in the hospital anymore..." In the evening, the doctor ordered Hit up his hansom, and go to the warlord's house to play Wendt.When he put on his hat and coat, he was completely ready to go out. He was standing in the middle of the study putting on his gloves, when the outside door creaked... Lie Baowei walked into the front hall without making a sound. "Who is it?" asked the doctor. "It's me, doctor . . . " replied the man who had entered muffledly. 医师的心忽然怦怦地跳起来，他由于害臊和一种没法理解的恐惧而周身发凉。医士米哈依尔·扎哈雷奇（来人就是他）小声咳嗽着，畏畏缩缩地走进书房里来。他沉默一忽儿，用闷声闷气的负咎声调说：“请您原谅我，格利果利·伊凡内奇！” 医师心慌意乱，不知道该说什么好。他明白医士到他这儿来低声下气请求原谅并不是出于基督徒的谦卑，也不是要用这种谦卑羞辱使他受屈的人，而纯粹是出于利害的考虑：“我要按捺我的性子去请他原谅，这样也许就不会把我赶走，我也不致丢掉饭碗了。……”还有什么能比这个更侮辱人的尊严呢？ “请您原谅，……”医士又说一遍。 “您听我说，……”医师开口说，极力不看着他，仍旧不知道该说什么好。“您听我说。……我侮辱了您，那么……那么我应当受到惩罚，也就是说应当使您得到满足。……决斗您是不会赞成的。……不过我自己也不赞成决斗。我侮辱了您，那么您……您可以到调解法官那儿去告我的状，我就会受到惩罚。……我们两人一齐留在这儿共事是办不到了。……我们之中总得走掉一个，不是我就是您！（”我的上帝啊！我对他说的话不对头！“医师惊恐地想道。”多么愚蠢，多么愚蠢啊！“）一句话，您去告状吧！我们已经不能共事了！……总得走掉一个，不是我就是您。……您明天去告状吧！” 医士皱起眉头看着医师，他那对黯淡而混浊的眼睛里闪出最最露骨的轻蔑神情。他素来认为医师是个不切实际而又任性的孩子，不过现在他是因为医师发抖，因为他说的话流露出莫名其妙的张皇而看不起他。……“告就告，”他阴郁而怨愤地说。 “对，您去告状好了！” “可是您以为怎么样？我不会去告吗？要告就告。……您没有权利打人。而且您该羞愧才对！只有喝醉酒的庄稼汉才打人，可您是个受过教育的人。……”出乎意外，医师胸膛里的全部憎恨一齐发作起来，他大叫一声，连嗓音都变了：“滚出去！” 医士勉强走开，好象还有什么话要说似的。他走进前堂，站住，沉思不语。他似乎打定了什么主意，毅然决然地出去了。……“多么愚蠢，多么愚蠢啊！”医师等他走后嘟哝说。“这一切多么愚蠢，多么庸俗！” 他感到刚才他对待医士的态度象个小孩子。他这才明白过来：所有他那些关于诉讼的想法都不聪明，不能解决问题，反而把问题弄得复杂了。 “多么愚蠢啊！”他坐在双轮马车上，以及后来在军事长官家里玩文特的时候一直这样想。“难道我的教育程度这么差，对生活知道得这么少，竟没有能力解决这个简单的问题？ 是啊，该怎么办呢？ " 第二天早晨，医师看见医士的妻子坐上一辆马车，准备到什么地方去，他心里暗想：“她这是找她的姨妈去了。去就去吧！” 医院里就此缺了个医士。本来应该给执行处写一份公文才对，然而医师仍旧想不出这封信该按什么形式写。现在这封信的大意该是这样：“我请求将医士革职，其实有罪的不是他，而是我。”要把这样的意思叙述得既不荒唐，也不丢脸，这在正派人几乎不可能办到。 大约过了两三天，医师得到消息说，医士到列甫·特罗菲莫维奇那儿诉苦去了。主席没有容他说一句话，跺着脚嚷叫，打发他走掉：“我知道你！出去！我不要听！”医士从列甫·特罗菲莫维奇那儿出来，到执行处去，在那儿递上一份诬告的呈文。在那份呈文里，他没有提到打耳光的事，也没有为自己要求什么，只是向执行处告密，说医师有好几次当他的面不以为然地批评执行处和主席，还说医师治病不得法，不按时到各区去等等。医师听到这些就笑起来，心想：“简直是个蠢货！”他想到医士做出这种蠢事来，不由得害臊，而且可怜他；人为保护自己而做的蠢事越多，他就越得不到保护，越没有力量。 在上述这个早晨过去整整一个星期后，医师收到调解法官的一张传票。 “这真是十足的愚蠢，……”他一面在收条上签字，一面暗想。“再也想不出比这更愚蠢的事了。” 在一个阴暗、安静的早晨他坐车到调解法官那儿去，倒不再觉得羞愧，而只觉得烦恼和厌恶了。他生自己的气，生医士的气，生环境的气。……“我爽性在法庭上说：你们统统见鬼去吧！”他生气地想。 “你们全是蠢驴，你们什么也不懂！” 他坐着车子快要走到调解法庭的时候，看见门口站着被传到这儿来作证的他医院里的三个护士，另外还有妖精。妖精正等得不耐烦，调动着两条腿，这时候看见当前这场官司的主要人物来临，高兴得脸都红了。气愤的医师一眼看见护士们和这个活泼愉快的妖精，恨不能象鹰似的扑过去，给她们一场惊吓：“谁让你们离开医院的？请你们马上滚回去！”然而他克制自己，极力装得心平气和，从一群农民中间穿过去，走进法庭。法庭里没有人，调解法官的链子挂在一把圈椅的椅背上。医师走进书记的房间。在那儿，他看见一个瘦脸的年轻人，穿着麻布上衣，衣袋鼓出来，这人就是书记。医士坐在桌子旁边，因为闲着没事做而翻看诉讼案卷。医师一进来，书记就站起来，医士难以为情，也站起来了。 “亚历山大·阿尔希波维奇还没来吗？”医师问道，发窘了。 “还没来。他在家里，……”书记回答说。 法庭设在调解法官的庄园上，占着一个厢房。法官本人住在大房子里。医师走出法庭，不慌不忙地往那所房子走去。 他瞧见亚历山大·阿尔希波维奇正在饭厅里茶炊旁边。这位调解法官没穿上衣，也没穿坎肩，衬衫胸前的纽扣解开。他正站在桌子旁边，两手捧着茶壶，往一个玻璃杯里给自己斟上象咖啡那么黑的茶。他一眼看见客人来了，就赶快拿过另一个玻璃杯来，斟满茶，也没说客套话，就问道：“您茶里要不要放糖？” 从前，很久以前，这位调解法官曾在骑兵队里服役，现在虽然由于多年担任被推选的工作而获得四品文官的官衔，然而仍旧没有脱掉军服，也没有丢掉军人的习惯。他留着警察局长式的长唇髭，裤子上镶着饰绦，他的全部行动和话语都渗透军人的风度。他讲话的时候，头总是微微往后仰，话语里夹杂着动听的、将军气派的“哦哦哦……”，常常耸动肩膀，转动眼珠。他打招呼或者敬烟，总是两脚并拢，把鞋跟碰响，走路的时候却十分小心，只让马刺发出轻柔的响声，仿佛马刺每响一下就使他痛苦得不得了似的。这时候他请医师坐下来喝茶，然后摩挲着自己宽阔的胸脯和肚子，深深吁一口气，说：“嗯，是啊。……也许您，哦哦哦……要喝点白酒，吃点凉菜吧？哦哦？” “不，谢谢，我吃饱了。” 两个人都感到医院里出的乱子没法避而不谈，两个人都觉得别扭。医师沉默着。调解法官用优雅的手势捉住一个叮他胸脯的蚊子，把它转过来掉过去，仔细看了个够，随手把它放掉，然后深深叹一口气，抬起眼睛来瞧着医师，用抑扬顿挫的声调问道：“我说，您为什么不把他赶走呢？” 医师在他的说话声里听出同情的调子。医师忽然可怜自己，感到这一个星期以来他所处的窘境使他多么疲惫和困顿。 他露出仿佛他的耐性终于耗尽的神情，从桌旁站起来，愤愤地皱起眉头，耸一下肩膀，说：“赶走！您怎么会说这种话，真的。……奇怪，您怎么会说这种话！难道我能把他赶走？您坐在这儿，心里以为我在医院里是主人，我要干什么就可以干什么！奇怪，您怎么会这样想！既然医士的姨妈在列甫·特罗菲梅奇家里做保姆，既然列甫·特罗菲梅奇需要扎哈雷奇这样的耳目和奴才，难道我还能把他赶走？既然地方自治局把我们这些医师看得一钱不值，既然地方自治局处处跟我们为难，那我还能有什么作为？叫他们见鬼去吧，我不愿意干下去了，就是这么的！我不愿意干下去了！” “得了，得了，得了。……可以这么说，您，我亲爱的，未免太认真了。……”“首席贵族千方百计要证实我们都是虚无主义者，暗中窥探我们，轻视我们，象对待他的文书一样。他有什么权利趁我不在，到医院里来向护士和病人问这问那？难道这不是侮辱吗？还有你们那个装疯卖傻的教徒谢敏·阿历克塞伊奇，他亲自耕地，不相信医学，因为他跟牛那么健康饱满，他当着我们的面公然骂我们是寄生虫，怪我们混饭吃！见他的鬼！我一天到晚工作，从不知道休息。这地方更需要的是我，而不是所有这些装疯卖傻的教徒、伪君子、革新派和别的小丑！我埋头工作，身体也熬坏了，可是他们非但不感激我，反而骂我混饭吃！我对你们真是感激不尽！人人都认为自己有权利管他不该管的事，有权利教训人，辖制人！还有你们执行处的委员卡木恰特斯基，他在地方自治局会议上谴责医师，说我们用掉的碘化钾太多，建议我们使用可卡因的时候要当心！我要问您：他懂得什么？这干他什么事？为什么他就不教您怎样审案子呢？” “可是……可是，我的好人，他本来就是粗人，乡巴佬。 ……你不能跟他计较这些。 ..." “粗人，乡巴佬，可是你们推选这个游手好闲的家伙做委员，容许他把鼻子往各处拱！瞧，您笑了！依您看来这都是小事，微不足道，不过您要知道，这种小事那么多，它们构成了整个生活，如同沙子堆成山一样！我再也忍不下去！我受不住了，亚历山大·阿尔希培奇！再过些时候，我跟您担保，我不但会打人的脸，甚至会开枪打死人！您得明白：我的神经是神经，而不是铁丝。我也跟您一样是人呀。……”医师的眼睛里满是泪水，嗓音发颤；他扭过脸去，开始瞧着窗外。随后，他沉默了。 “嗯，对了，可敬的朋友，……”调解法官沉思地喃喃说。 “另一方面，要是冷静地想一想，那么，……”调解法官说着，捉住一只蚊子，使劲眯细眼睛，把它翻来覆去看个够，然后掐死，丢在一只洗杯盆里。“……那么，您明白，简直没有理由把他赶走。您把他赶走，可是接替他职务的也还是这样的人，甚至可能比他更差。您换一百个人，到头来，好的连一个也找不着。……个个都是坏蛋，”调解法官说，摩挲着胳肢窝底下，慢慢地吸烟。“对这种恶劣现象，人也只好睁一只眼闭一只眼。我得告诉您，在当前这个时代，诚实而不灌酒的、您觉得可靠的工作人员只在知识分子和农民当中才有，也就是说，只有在这两个极端当中才能找到。可以这么说，您能找到最诚实的医师、最出色的教师、最诚实的农夫和铁匠，然而中间的人，如果可以这么说的话，也就是那些出身平民、却还没有成为知识分子的人，却都靠不住。因此要找到诚实而不灌酒的医士、文书、店员等等，是非常困难的。困难极了！ 我从戈罗赫沙皇时代起就在司法界服务，在我服务的整个时期我一次也没用到过诚实而不灌酒的书记，不过我这一辈子倒赶走过无数的书记哩。这些人没有一点道德心，更不要说什么……哦哦哦，……所谓原则了。 ……“”为什么他说这些话呢？ “医师暗想。”我跟他说的都不贴题。 " “喏，前不久，就是上星期五，”调解法官继续说，“我的那个久仁斯基干出一件您再也想象不到的事儿。他叫一些酒鬼傍晚去找他，鬼才知道他们是什么路数。他就在法庭里跟他们灌了一夜酒。您看如何？我一点也不反对喝酒。见他的鬼，他要喝就尽管喝，可是何必把那些身份不明的人弄到法庭里去呢？是啊，您想想看，从卷宗里偷去随便什么证件、票据等等，可以不费吹灰之力！您猜怎么着？在这场豪饮之后，我不得不用两天工夫检查全部案卷，看看有没有遗失什么东西。……是啊，您拿这个可恶的家伙有什么办法？把他赶走吗？好吧。……可是您怎么能担保另换一个人不更糟呢？” “况且怎么能把他赶走呢？”医师说。“赶走一个人，只有嘴上说说容易。……既然我知道他有妻子儿女，他在挨饿，我又怎么能赶走他，害得他丢掉饭碗呢？他和他的家人如何是好呢？” “鬼才知道这是怎么回事，我说的全不对头！”他暗想，而且觉得奇怪：他无论如何也没有办法把他的意识固定在哪个明确的思想上，或者固定在哪种感情上。“这是因为我浅薄，不善于思考，”他暗想。 “您所谓的中间的人，都不可靠，”他接着说。“我们赶走他，骂他，打他的脸，可是我们也得设身处地替他想一想。他既不是庄稼汉也不是地主，不伦不类，他的过去是辛酸的，他的现在无非是每月二十五卢布的薪金、挨饿的家属、属员的身分，他的将来呢，哪怕再工作一百年，也仍旧是那二十五卢布、那仰人鼻息的地位。他没有受过教育，没有财产；他没有工夫看书或者到教堂去祈祷。他不听我们的话，因为我们不让他接近我们。他就这样一天天地混到死，根本没有什么希望过比较好的生活，吃得半饥半饱，生怕被人从公家宿舍里赶出去，不知道该把子女安顿到哪儿去才好。那么，您说说看，他怎么能不酗酒，不盗卖公物呢？他怎么会有原则呢？” “我们简直象是在讨论社会问题，”他暗想。“多么不贴题啊，主啊！再者，说这些有什么用呢？” 门铃声响了。有人坐着马车进了院子，先是到法庭，然后来到大房子的门廊前面。 “他自己来了，”调解法官瞧着窗外说。“得，您可要倒霉了！” “劳驾，您快点放我走吧，……”医师要求道。“如果可能的话，您就不要按照顺序审理我的案子。真的，我忙得很。” “好，好。……只是我还不知道，老兄，这个案子是不是归我管。要知道，您跟医士的关系，可以说，是公务的关系。 再者，您是在执行公务的时候打他的。不过我也不十分清楚。 我们马上问一下列甫·特罗菲莫维奇吧。 " 传来匆促的脚步声和沉重的叹息声，门口出现了主席列甫·特罗菲莫维奇，他是个须发皆白的老人，头顶先秃，胡子很长，眼皮发红。 “你们好，……”他叹口气说。“哎哟，老兄！你吩咐一声，法官，叫人给我拿克瓦斯来！真要命。……”他往圈椅上一坐，然而立刻很快地跳起来，跑到医师跟前，生气地瞪大眼睛瞧着他，用尖利刺耳的男高音讲起来：“我很感激您，感激极了，格利果利·伊凡内奇！十分领情，多谢多谢！我永生永世也忘不了！干这号事可不够朋友！ 随您怎么说，您简直昧了良心！为什么您早不告诉我？您把我看成什么人？who?是仇人还是局外人？我是您的仇人吗？难道我以前什么时候拒绝过您的什么要求？ah? " 主席瞪大眼睛，动着手指头，喝足了克瓦斯，很快地擦一下嘴唇，接着说：“我十分感激您，十分感激您！为什么您早不告诉我？要是您对我还有一分感情，就该坐车来找我，象朋友似的说：”亲爱的，列甫·特罗菲梅奇，如此这般，……这样一回事，……'我一下子就会给您把事情全处理妥当，用不着闹出这种笑话来。 ……那个混蛋，好象吃了迷魂汤似的，跑遍全县，跟那些娘们儿说您的坏话，中伤您。您呢，说来丢脸（请您原谅我这么说），想出些鬼才明白的主意，硬逼那个混蛋去告状！丢脸啊，丢尽脸了！大家都问我这究竟是怎么回事，怎么个情形，可是我这个主席一点也不知道你们那儿出了什么事。您居然根本不需要我帮忙！我十分感激您，十分感激您啊，格利果利·伊凡内奇！ " 主席深深一鞠躬，甚至满脸通红，然后走到窗前，喊道：“席加洛夫，叫米哈依尔·扎哈雷奇到这儿来！对他说，马上就到这儿来！这可不好，大夫！”他说着，从窗口走开。 “连我的妻子都生气了，大概为此对您很有点好感呢。您，先生，未免太自作聪明！您胡干一气，好象这样才合乎情理，才有原则，才有声有色，可是您只会闹出一个结果：把事情弄得一团糟。……”“您不想合情合理地办事，那么您会得出什么结果来呢？” 医师问。 “我会得出什么结果来？喏，会得出这样的结果：如果我现在不到这儿来，您就会丢您自己的脸，也会丢我的脸。……算您有造化，我来了！” 医士走进房来，站在门旁。主席站定，侧着身子对着他，手插在衣袋里，嗽了嗽喉咙，说：“马上给大夫赔罪！” 医师涨红脸，跑到隔壁房间去了。 “喏，你看见了，大夫不愿意让你赔罪！”主席接着说。 “他希望你不是用话语而是用行动来表现你的改悔。你能提出保证，从今天起永远听话，戒酒吗？” “我能提出保证，……”医士用男低音阴郁地说。 “小心！求主保佑你不要再出毛病！要不然我一下子就叫你丢掉差事！如果再出什么事，你就别来求情。……好，回去吧。……”医士本来对自己的不幸已经听天由命，如今竟有这样的转变，这对他来说是一件出乎意外的事。他高兴得脸都发白了。他想说一句什么话，往前伸出手去，可是什么也没说出来，傻笑着，走出去了。 “瞧，完了！”主席说。“根本就用不着打什么官司。” 他如释重负地吐一口气，做出刚刚干完一件很困难很重大的事的样子，瞧着茶炊和玻璃杯，搓着手说：“和事佬是有福的。……你给我斟上一小杯吧。不过，你先吩咐人拿点凉菜来。……嗯，白酒也要一点。……”“诸位先生，这可不行！”医师说着，走进饭厅里来，仍旧满脸通红，绞着手。“这……这成了一出滑稽剧！糟得很！ 我受不了。与其照这样用轻松喜剧的方式解决问题，倒不如审判二十次。不行，我受不了！ " “那么您要怎么样呢？”主席顶了他一句。“把他赶走吗？ 行，我来赶就是。 ..." “不，不是把他赶走。……我也不知道我要怎么办，不过，诸位先生，照这样对待生活，……唉，我的上帝！这真叫人痛苦呀！” 医师心烦意乱，开始找他的帽子，可是没有找着，就浑身瘫软地坐落在圈椅里。 “糟得很！”他又说一遍。 “我亲爱的，”调解法官开始小声说，“可以说，我对您还有点弄不懂。……要知道，您在这件事上是有过错的！在十九世纪末，打人耳光这种事，不管您怎么想，在某种程度上有点那个……他是个混蛋，不过……哦哦哦……您会同意，您的举动也不慎重啊。……”“当然！”主席同意说。 白酒和凉菜端上来了。在告别的时候，医师心不在焉地喝下一杯酒，吃了一个小红萝卜。临到他返回自己的医院，他的思想蒙上了一层雾，象是秋天早晨的草地。 “上个星期受那么多苦，动那么多脑筋，说那么多话，”他暗想，“难道就是为了让这件事如此荒谬庸俗地结束吗？多么愚蠢！多么愚蠢啊！” 他心中羞愧，因为他把外人牵连到他的私人问题中来了，因为他对这些人说了那么一些话，因为他有喝酒和生活散漫的习惯而喝了那杯酒，还因为他不明事理，思想不深刻。……他回到医院里，立刻开始查病房。医士在他身旁走来走去，脚步象猫那么轻，对医师问的话也轻声回答。……医士也好，妖精也好，护士也好，都装出根本没有发生什么事、天下太平的样子。医师本人也极力装得毫不介意。他下命令，发脾气，跟病人开玩笑，然而他的脑子里不住地涌现出两个字：“愚蠢，愚蠢，愚蠢……” "Notes" ①一种纸牌戏。