Chapter 9 call out

call out The professor received a telegram from the Lyyarikov factory begging him to go as soon as possible.From the long, uncoordinated telegram, the only thing to be understood was that there was a Mrs. Lyarikova, probably the owner of the factory, whose daughter was ill.The professor did not go himself, but sent his resident doctor Korolyov to go for him. It was two stops from Moscow, and it was about four versts in a carriage to get out of the station.A troika had been ordered to wait for Korolyov at the station. The coachman wore a cap with peacock feathers, and to everything the doctor asked he answered loudly, like a soldier, "No way!" "Yes!" It was Saturday evening, and the sun was setting.Workers came out of the factory and went to the railway station in groups, and they bowed when they saw the carriage in which Korolyov was riding.Korolyov was fascinated by the dusk, the manor, the dachas on either side, the birches, the tranquility of the surroundings, when, on the eve of the holiday, the fields, the trees, the sun seemed to be preparing to rest with the workers, perhaps to praying. ... He was born in Moscow and grew up there.He didn't know the countryside, he had never been interested in factories, and he had never been to a factory.But occasionally he read articles about factories, and he visited and talked to the owners of the factories.Whenever he sees a factory in the distance or nearby, he always thinks in his heart how peaceful and peaceful it looks from the outside, but inside, the factory owner is probably utterly ignorant, darkly selfish, and the workers Doing dull, unhealthy drudgery, bickering, drinking, and lice.And at this moment, the workers were timidly and respectfully giving way to the wagons, and he could see in their faces, caps, and gait that they were dirty, drunk, restless, and flustered.

His car drove into the factory gate.He saw small workers' houses on either side, women's faces, and quilts and shirts hanging out on the porch. "Watch out for the carriage!" shouted the coachman, but did not rein in the horse.It was a wide yard with no grass growing on the ground.There are five large factory buildings not far from each other in the yard, each with a big chimney, in addition to some warehouses and sheds, everything is covered with a layer of off-white things, like dust.Here and there, like oases in the desert, there are pitiful little gardens and the red or green roofs of the managers' houses.

Suddenly the coachman reined in his horse, and the carriage stopped in front of a freshly painted gray house.Here was a little garden with lilacs, and the bushes were dusty.There was a strong smell of paint on the yellow porch. "Come in, doctor," said several women in the passages and halls, while sighs and murmurs were heard. "Come in, we've been looking forward to you for a long time, it's really troublesome. Please go this way." Mrs. Lyarikova was a rather stout, elderly lady in a black silk dress with fashionable sleeves; but from her countenance she appeared to be an ordinary, uneducated woman.She looked at the doctor restlessly, hesitating, not daring to reach out to him.Beside her stood a woman with cropped hair, pince-nez, and a colorful blouse. She was thin and not young for her age.The maid called her Kristina Dmitrievna, and Korolyov supposed that she was the governess.Probably she was the most learned person in the family and had been entrusted to receive the doctor, for she immediately began to describe the cause of her illness, giving many trivial and annoying details, but she did not say anything about it. Find out who is suffering from the disease and what is the disease.

The physician and the governess sat talking, while the mistress waited motionless at the door.Korolyov knew from the conversation that the patient was the only daughter and heir of Mrs. Lyarikova, a girl of twenty named Liza.She had been ill for a long time, had been treated by all kinds of physicians, and from last night to this morning her heart beat so violently that the whole family was awake, fearing she would die. "Our lady, so to speak, has been ill since childhood," said Kristina Dmitrievna in a singing voice, repeatedly wiping her lips with her hand. "The doctor said she was nervous. She had scrofula when she was a child, and the doctor took it to her heart, so I thought maybe that was the problem."

They go to see the sick.The patient was a full grown man, tall, but not handsome, like her mother, with equally small eyes and a face that was too broad in the lower part. She lay there with her hair disheveled and covered up to her chin.Korolyov's first impression of her was that she seemed to be an unfortunate poor man who had been kept here thanks to the mercy of others.He couldn't believe that she was the heir to the five big factories. "I'm here to see you," Korolyov began. "I've come to treat you. Good day." He said his name and shook her hand, a large, ugly, cold hand.She sat up, obviously used to being seen by a doctor for a long time, with her shoulders and chest bare, she didn't care at all, and let the doctor auscultate her.

"My heart was beating," she said, "beating so hard all night that . . . I nearly died of fright! Please give me some medicine. " "Okay! Okay! Don't worry." Korolyov shrugged his shoulders after his examination. "Heart is fine," he said, "everything is normal, there is nothing wrong with it. There must be something wrong with your nerves, but that's a very common thing. It seems that even the nervous attack has passed, Lie down and sleep." At this moment, someone brought a lamp into the bedroom.The patient squinted his eyes when he saw the light, and suddenly, holding his head in his hands, he burst into tears.Then the impression of ugly poor people suddenly disappeared, and Korolyov no longer felt that the eyes were small and the lower half of the face was too wide.He saw a soft pained expression, so euphemistic and touching, and she seemed to him to be well-proportioned, soft, and simple, and he couldn't help trying to comfort her, but not with medicine, or with a doctor's advice, but with Kind, simple words.Her mother put her arms around her head, holding her against her body.What despair, what grief, was on the old lady's face!She, the mother, brought her up, brought her up, gave her all her heart and soul, made her learn French, dance, music, hired a dozen teachers for her, the best Doctor, also invited a governess to live at home.Now, she doesn't understand why her daughter is crying, why she is so sad, she doesn't understand, she is terrified, and there is an expression of guilt, anxiety, and despair on her face, as if she has neglected a very important matter, something Things haven't been done yet, and someone hasn't been invited yet, but she doesn't know who that person is.

"Lysanka, you are crying again, . ? Have pity on me, tell me." Both of them wept sadly.Korolyov sat down on the edge of the bed and took Liza's hand. "Come on, is it worth crying like that?" he said kindly. "Really, nothing in this world is worth crying like that. Come on, don't cry, it's no use. ..." At the same time he thought to himself: "It's time for her to marry. . . . " "The doctor in our factory gives her Potassium Bromide," said the governess, "but I find it worse when she takes it. In my opinion, if it really cures the heart, it must be a potion, . . . I forgot." The name of the potion is now... it's lily of the valley drops, right?"

Then she explained it in detail.She interrupted the doctor and prevented him from speaking.She had a worried look on her face, as if she thought that since she was the most learned person in the family, she should continue to talk to the doctor, and she must talk about medicine. Korolev was bored. "I don't think it's a big deal," he said to the mother, coming out of the bedroom. "Since your daughter is being seen by the factory doctor, let him continue to see her. The medicines he prescribed were all right before. I don't think there is any need to change doctors. Why should you change? This is a common ailment. It's nothing serious...." He spoke calmly, putting on his gloves, but Madame Lyarikova stood motionless, looking at him with teary eyes.

"It's only half an hour to the ten o'clock train," he said, "and I hope I don't miss it." "You can't stay with us?" she asked, tears streaming down her cheeks again. "I'm ashamed to trouble you, but please do me a favor, . . . . the only daughter. . . . She gave me such a fright last night that I couldn't hold my breath. . . . For God's sake, don't go!" He would have liked to tell her that he still had a lot of work to do in Moscow, that his family was waiting for him to return, and that it would be a chore to spend an evening and a whole night needlessly in a stranger's house, but He looked at her face, sighed, and took off the gloves silently.

All the lamps and candles in the drawing room and drawing room were lit for him.He sat down in front of the piano, flipped through the music for a while, and then looked at the pictures and portraits on the wall.The pictures were oil paintings, framed in gold, of the Crimea, with a small boat floating on a stormy sea, and a Catholic priest holding a wine glass, and they were all dry, overpolished, and without talent. . . . . and there is not a single beautiful, pleasing face in the portrait, but high cheekbones and surprised eyes.Liza's father, Liyarikov, with a low forehead and a smug expression, wore his uniform like a sack on his tall, vulgar figure, with a medal and a red cross on his chest. Zhang. The arrangement in the room is lacking in culture. The ornate furnishings are accidental and not well-arranged, making people feel uncomfortable, just like the uniform; For some reason, he recalled a story about a businessman who went to his bath with a medal around his neck.... From the vestibule came whispers of someone snoring softly.Suddenly there was a piercing, intermittent metallic sound outside the house, which Korolyov had never heard before, and now he did not know what it was.The noise produced a strange, unpleasant reaction in his mind.

"It seems that there is no reason why we should stay here..." he thought, and turned to the music score again. "Doctor, please come to dinner!" The governess greeted him in a low voice. He goes to dinner.There was a large table with a great deal of cold dishes and wine, but there were only two people at dinner: he and Kristina Dmitrievna. She drank Madeira, ate quickly, looked at him through her pince-nez, and said: "The workers here are very satisfied with us. Every winter we have a play in our factory, and the workers themselves act; they I often hear readings with slides. They have a wonderful tea room. It seems that they really have what they want. They are very loyal to us. When they heard that Lisanka was seriously ill, they prayed for her. Although They are uneducated, but they are sentient beings." "You don't seem to have a single man in your family," said Korolyov. "Not a single one. Pyotr Nikanoritch died a year and a half ago, and we are the only women left. So there are only three of us here. We live here in the summer, and we live in the winter." In Moscow or Polyanka. I've lived with them for eleven years, like my own family." For dinner, there are sturgeon, chicken pie, fruit in syrup, and the wine is all expensive French wine. "You're welcome, doctor," said Kristina Dmitrievna, eating, wiping her mouth with her fist.Evidently, she was very comfortable here. "Please eat some more." bed.But he wasn't sleepy yet.The room was stuffy and smelled of paint, so he put on his overcoat and went out. The weather outside is cool, and the sky has already shown a faint dawn. The five large factory buildings, sheds, and warehouses with tall chimneys are clearly outlined in the humid air. It was a holiday, the workers were not working, and the windows were dark. Only one factory building was still burning with a furnace, and two windows were glowing red, and the smoke from the chimney was occasionally wrapped in sparks.Outside the yard, in the distance, there are frogs croaking and nightingales singing. He looked at the factory building and the sheds in which the workers slept, and he thought again of all the thoughts that always come to his mind when he sees a factory.Although the workers were allowed to play plays, watch slide shows, hire factory doctors for them, and implement various improvement measures, the workers he met on the way from the train station today were not the same as the workers he met when he was a child. In factory dramas and improvements, the workers who saw it were no different.He, as a physician, good at judging correctly the chronic disease whose underlying cause cannot be identified and therefore cannot be cured, he also regarded the factory as an abnormal phenomenon, the cause of which is unclear and cannot be eliminated.He did not regard measures to improve the conditions of the workers as superfluous, but he regarded them as incurable. "Of course, this is an abnormal phenomenon..." he thought, looking at the dark red window. "Fifteen hundred to two thousand workmen toiled incessantly in unhealthy conditions, made poorly textured calico, lived half-starved, and escaped from such nightmares only occasionally in taverns. Gradually woke up. In addition, there are hundreds of people who supervise the work of the workers. These hundred people only record the fines of the workers, swear at people, and act unfairly. There are only two or three so-called factory owners, although they themselves do nothing. And look down on those lousy calicos, and enjoy the benefits of the factory. But what kind of benefits are they? How are they enjoying them? Lyarikova and her daughter are unhappy, and everyone who sees them will feel sorry for them, only Hurley Stina Dmitrievna lived comfortably alone, that rather stupid spinster with the pince-nez. So it seems that there are so many people working in these five factories, the second-best The reason why the calico cloth is sold in the Eastern market is only so that Kristina Dmitrievna can eat sturgeon and drink red wine by herself." Suddenly there was a strange noise, the same one Korolyov had heard before supper.I don't know who is knocking on the metal plate next to a factory building.He knocked once, but the trembling lingering sound stopped immediately, so that it became a short, harsh, unpleasant sound, which sounded like "Jian... Jian... Jian..." and then a little silence. After a while, the same intermittent and unpleasant sound came from another factory building, and the voice was even deeper: "Draine...Draine...Draine..." knocked eleven times. Obviously, this It was the night watchman who was telling the time: it was eleven o'clock. He heard the voice from the third factory building again: "Zack... Zack... Zack..." Then there were sounds beside all the factory buildings, and then behind the wooden shed and outside the gate.In the stillness of the night, these voices seemed to come from the red-eyed monster, the devil, who ruled here as much as the factory owner and the worker, and deceived both of them. Korolev walked out of the yard into the open field. "Who's moving?" someone called to him in a rough voice from the door. "It's like being in prison..." he thought, without answering anything. Walking here, the cries of nightingales and frogs can be heard more clearly, and one can feel that it is a night in May.There was the sound of a train from the station.Somewhere, a few roosters who hadn't woken up crowed, but the night was still peaceful, and everything around them fell asleep peacefully.In an open space not far from the factory, there stood a shelf where building materials were piled up.Korolyov sat down on the wooden board and continued to think: "The only one who feels comfortable here is the governess. The work of the University is to satisfy her. However, that is only the appearance, she is just a puppet here. That's it. The main character here is the devil, and everything is done for him. So, thinking of the devil he didn't believe in, he looked back at the two lighted windows.It seemed to him that the devil, the unknowable force that established the relationship between the strong and the weak, was looking at him with red eyes, and had made this great mistake that is now irreparable.It is the law of nature that the strong must hinder the weak from living, but this kind of words can only be easily understood and accepted in newspaper articles or textbooks; In all the intricate details that weave human relationships, that law is not a law but a logical absurdity, since both the strong and the weak suffer alike for their mutual relations, and both Involuntarily submitting to some kind of dominating force of unknown origin, outside of life, and beyond human understanding.Korolyov just sat on the wooden plank and thought about his thoughts. He gradually developed a feeling, as if the mysterious power of unknown origin was really nearby and watching him.At this moment, the east was getting whiter and whiter, and the time passed quickly.There was not even a human being nearby, as if everything had died. Against the gray background of dawn, the five factory buildings and their chimneys looked strange, different from the daytime.One completely forgets that there are steam engines, electrical equipment, and telephones in it, but for some reason, he keeps thinking about buildings on the water, thinking about the Stone Age, and at the same time feels that there is a brutal, unconscious force. ...The sound came again: "Jianer... Jianer... Jianer... Jianer..." Twelve times.Then there was silence, and after half a minute of silence, the sound came from the other side of the yard: "Drain...Drain...Drain..." "That's awful!" thought Korolyov. "Zack...Zack..." Another intermittent, high-pitched, as if annoyed voice came from another place, "Zack...Zack..." In order to report twelve o'clock, it took a total of Go for four minutes.Then the earth fell silent, giving the impression again that everything around had died. Korolyov sat for a while, then went back to the main room, but sat in the room for a long time, and did not go to bed.In the adjoining rooms there were murmurs of voices, and the snapping of slippers and bare feet could be heard. "Could she be ill again?" thought Korolyov. He went out to see the patient.It was already full light in the rooms, and a faint ray of sunlight pierced through the morning mist and shone tremblingly on the floor and walls of the living room.The door to Liza's room was open, and she herself was sitting in an easy chair by the bed, wearing a long gown, uncombed hair, and a shawl.The curtains are drawn down. "What do you think?" asked Korolyov. "thank you." He felt for her pulse, then smoothed the hair that fell across her forehead. "So you didn't sleep," he said, "it's fine outside, it's spring, and the nightingales are singing, and you're sitting in the dark thinking about your thoughts." She listened and watched his face, her eyes were sad and sensitive.It was obvious that she wanted to talk to him. "Do you always do that?" he asked. Moving her lips, she answered: "Always. I'm sick almost every night." At that moment the night watchman began to tell the time in the yard: it was two o'clock.They heard: "Jianer... Jianer..." She shivered. "Does the sound of the watch disturb you?" he asked. "I don't know. Everything troubles me here," she replied, lost in thought. "Everything troubles me. I hear sympathy in your voice. The first time I saw you, I felt for some reason that I could talk to you about everything." "Then I beg you to speak." "I want to tell you what I think. I don't think I'm sick, but I'm restless, I'm afraid, because I'm in my position and there's no other way. A very healthy man, For example, if a robber was walking under his window, he wouldn't be uneasy. I've often had a doctor see me," she went on, looking at her knees and smiling shyly. "Of course, I am very grateful in my heart, and I don’t deny that seeing a doctor is good, but I don’t want to talk to a doctor, but I hope to talk to someone close to me, a friend who can understand me and point out to me whether I am right or wrong.” "Don't you have any friends?" asked Korolyov. "I am alone. I have a mother and I love her, but I am still alone. Life is like this. ... A lonely person always reads, but seldom speaks, and seldom hears what others say.To them life is mysterious; they are mystics and often see devils where there are no devils.Lermontov's Tamara ⑤ is lonely, so she saw the devil. " "Do you always read?" "By the way. You see, I've had nothing to do all the time from morning to night. I read during the day, but at night my mind is empty, without thoughts, only shadows. " "Did you see anything at night?" asked Korolyov. "I didn't see anything, but I felt..." She smiled again, and raised her eyes to the doctor, looking at him so sadly and so sensitively.He felt that she trusted him and wanted to have an honest talk with him, and she was thinking that too.But she was silent, perhaps waiting for him to speak. He knew what to say to her.He clearly felt that she had to leave these five factories and the millions of fortunes she might inherit in the future, and leave the devil who patrolled at night; he also felt that she was thinking the same way, only waiting for a Trusted people to affirm her idea that's all. But he didn't know what to say.how to say?As for the convicted criminal, no one is ashamed to ask him what he was sentenced for; similarly, as for the rich, no one is ashamed to ask them what is the use of so much money, why are they so incapable of using wealth, Why do they refuse to throw away their possessions even when they see that they have caused their misfortune; such a talk is customarily made with embarrassment and embarrassment, and at length. "How should I say it?" Korolev thought to himself, "And, is it necessary to say it?" He did not speak frankly what was on his mind, but said in a roundabout way: "You are dissatisfied in your position as owner of the factory and rich heir, and you do not believe that you have such a right, so now you sleep Not sleeping, which is of course much better than being satisfied, sleeping soundly, and feeling that everything is going your way. Your insomnia is admirable. Anyway, it is a good sign. Really, we are now Such conversations were unimaginable among our parents' generation; they did not talk at night, but slept soundly, while we, our generation, slept poorly, were distressed, and talked a lot. , always trying to judge whether we are doing right or not. However, by our children and grandchildren, this problem of right and wrong has been solved. They will see things much more clearly than us. In another fifty years or so, life It will definitely be better, but it's a pity that we can't live to that time. It would be interesting if we could take a look at life at that time." "What will our children and grandchildren do in our place?" Liza asked. "I don't know. . . . Maybe they'll drop everything and go away." "Where are you going?" "Where are you going? . . . Well, you can go wherever you like," said Korolyov, laughing. "A good man with a head has plenty of places to go." He looked at his watch. "But the sun has risen," he said, "and it's time for you to go to bed. Undress, then, and go to sleep. I'm glad to meet you," he went on, shaking her hand, " You are a very interesting fellow. Good night!" He went back to his room and went to bed. The next morning a carriage pulled up at the door, and everyone came out and stood on the steps to see him off.Liza was pale and haggard, with a flower in her hair and a white dress that looked like it was a holiday.As yesterday, she looked at him sadly and sensitively, smiled, and talked, with an air every now and then as if she was going to tell him—he alone—something special, important. things like.One could hear the larks singing and the church bells tinkling.The windows of the factory building are shining brightly.Korolyov drove out of the courtyard in the car, and then walked along the road to the railway station. At this time, he no longer thought about the workers, the buildings on the water, or the devil. In more recent times, life would have been as bright and cheerful as this quiet Sunday morning.How pleasant it would be, he thought, to drive in a good troika and enjoy the sun on a spring morning like this. "Notes" ①Liza's pet name. ② a sedative. ③A high-quality strong wine. ④ Refers to the floating houses built on wooden piles in the Neolithic and Bronze Ages. ⑤The heroine in a long poem by the Russian poet Lermontov.