Chapter 99 Part Two - Thirty Seven

The carriage, carrying the prisoner, passed the firefighters on guard, entered the courtyard of the police station, and stopped at a gate. There were a few firefighters in the yard, rolling up their sleeves, talking and laughing loudly, washing down some large vehicles. As soon as the carriage stopped, several policemen surrounded it.They hugged the prisoner's lifeless body from under the arms, lifted his feet, and lifted him from the car.The carriage was creaked by them. The policeman who brought the prisoner jumped out of the carriage, shook his numb arms, took off his hat, and made the sign of the sign of the cross.The dead were carried through the door and carried upstairs.Nekhludoff followed them up.They carried the dead to the center of a small dirty room, and used this to explain the philosophy of all problems.In a narrow sense, it refers to the place where people are removed, and there are four beds in it.Sitting on two beds were two invalids in pajamas: one with his mouth twisted and his neck bandaged; the other with consumptive disease.The other two beds were empty.They put the prisoner on one of the beds.At that moment a little man, wearing only his shirt, trousers and socks, with shining eyes and constantly moving his eyebrows, crept up to the prisoner, looked at him, then at Nekhludoff, Laugh out loud.Here's a lunatic left in the waiting room.

"They were trying to scare me," he said. "That can't be done, it can't be done!" The policeman and a doctor entered after the policeman carrying the dead man. The doctor walked up to the dead man and touched the prisoner's freckled, sallow hand. Although the hand was still soft, it was already gray with death.He picked up that hand, and then let go of his point of view. Dong Zhongshu further developed this theory and put forward the theory of "interaction between heaven and man".Wei, that hand landed limply on the dead man's stomach. "It's over," said the doctor, shaking his head, but evidently in order to follow the rules, undoing the wet denim shirt of the dead man, pushing his curls behind his ears, stooping, and laying his ear on the prisoner's high, sallow, motionless chest. superior.Everyone was silent.The doctor straightened up, shook his head again, opened one eyelid with one finger, and then opened the other eyelid, the two light blue eyes were already motionless.

"You can't frighten me, you can't frighten me," said the madman, spitting at the doctor. "How is it?" asked the officer. "How is it?" The doctor said again. "Send it to the morgue." "You've got to be careful. Is it really over?" asked the inspector. "At this point, there's nothing wrong with it," said the doctor, pulling the dead man's shirt over his chest for some reason. "I'll send for Matvey Ivanitch, and tell him to come and see. Go, Petrov!" said the doctor, walking away from the dead man.

"Take it to the morgue," the officer said. "Come back to the office and sign," he said to the escort who had been following the prisoner. "Yes," replied the escort. The policemen lifted the dead man and carried him downstairs again.Nekhludoff wanted to go with them, but the madman stopped him. "You're not taking part in their conspiracy, so give me a cigarette!" he said. Nekhludoff took out a pack of cigarettes and handed it to him.The lunatic raised his eyebrows and began to speak hastily of how they tortured him with all kinds of hints. "They're all against me, they torture me with sorcery, they make me so miserable..."

"Excuse me, I have something else to do," said Nekhludoff, and without hearing what he had to say, he went out into the courtyard to see where they were taking the dead man. The policemen carried the dead man across the yard and had just entered the cellar door.Nekhludoff tried to go over to them, but was stopped by the police officer. "What are you going to do?" "Nothing," answered Nekhludoff. "If you don't do anything, then go away." Nekhludoff obeyed, and set off to the carriage he had hired.The coachman was dozing.Nekhludoff woke him up and got into the carriage again to go to the station.

The carriage had not gone a hundred paces when Nekhludoff saw another cart approaching, escorted by armed escorts.A prisoner was also lying in the car, apparently dead.The prisoner was lying on his back in the cart, with a big black beard and a pancake-like hat that had slipped over his nose over his clean-shaven head.Every time the cart jolted, his head shook and hit the floor of the cart.The driver of the wagon, wearing big leather boots, walked beside the wagon and drove it.A policeman followed.Nekhludoff patted his coachman on the shoulder. "Look what they've done!" said the coachman, reining in his horse.

Nekhludoff jumped out of the carriage, followed the cart, passed the firemen on guard, and entered the yard of the police station.At this time, the firefighters in the yard had washed the car and walked away.Only the tall, thin fire chief remained.Wearing a hat with a blue rim, and with his hands in his pockets, he was looking sternly at a fat-necked, buff stallion brought in by the firefighters.The stallion was lame on one front leg, and the fire chief spoke angrily to the veterinarian standing nearby. The police officer is also standing here.Seeing another dead man being pulled in, he went to the side of the cart.

"Where did you get it?" He shook his head disapprovingly and asked. "From Old Gorbadovstrasse," answered the policeman. "Is it a prisoner?" asked the fire chief. "Yes, sir." "It's the second one today," the officer said. "Well, that's outrageous! It's too hot, too," said the fire chief, and turning to the fireman with the buff horse, he shouted, "Take him to the one-stable around the corner! I'll teach you a lesson." Teach you son of a bitch, you've crippled these fine horses, and they're worth more than you bastard."

This dead man, like the one just now, was removed from the cart by several policemen and carried to the waiting room.Nekhludoff followed them as if under a hypnotic spell. "What do you want?" a policeman asked him. He didn't answer, and still walked to the place where they sent the dead. The lunatic sat on the bunk, smoking desperately the cigarettes Nekhludoff had given him. "Ah, you're back!" he said, laughing.When he saw the dead man, he frowned. "Here we go again," he said. "I'm tired of watching it. I'm not a child, am I?" he said to Nekhludoff with a questioning smile.

Nekhludoff looked at the corpse, now uncovered.The face of the dead body, which had previously been covered by a hat, was now fully exposed.The prisoner just now was very ugly, but this prisoner has a very good appearance and body shape.The man was strong and in his prime.Although he was shaved with a weird yin and yang head, his full heavens and those now lifeless black eyes are beautiful, as well as the small high nose and short black mustache, which are also very beautiful. nice.His lips were blue, and there was a smile on his lips.His beard only covered the lower half of his face, and on the side of his shaved head was a small, strong and nice ear.The expression on his face was calm, serious and kind.Not to mention that it was evident from this face that a man who might have had a great deal of spiritual development was ruined,--from the fine bones of his hands and fettered feet, and the strong muscles of his well-proportioned limbs. As can be seen, he is a fine, strong and dexterous human animal.As an animal, he was far more perfect among his kind than the buff horse whose injury made the fire chief angry.However, he was tortured to death. Not only did no one mourn him as a human being, but also no one pitied him as a working animal tortured to death.The only emotion his death aroused in all was disgust at the fact that his body, which was about to rot, had to be cleaned up quickly, and thus be a nuisance to everyone.

The doctor led the doctors to the waiting room accompanied by the police chief.The doctor was a stocky, stocky man who wore a cocoon jacket and cocoon trousers that hugged his thick thighs.The police chief was a short, fat man with a round, ruddy face like a ball.He has a habit of puffing up his cheeks, and then exhaling slowly.His cheeks were puffed out in this way, and his face appeared rounder.The doctor sat on the bed next to the dead man, touched the hands of the dead man just like the doctor did just now, listened to the heart, and then stood up and pulled his own pants. "Totally dead," he said. The police chief's cheeks were bulging, and he let out his breath slowly. "Which prison is he from?" he asked the escort. The escort answered him, and mentioned that he would take back the shackles of the dead. "I'll tell them to take it down. Thank God we still have blacksmiths here," said the police chief, and puffed his cheeks again and walked toward the door, letting out his breath again slowly. "How could this be?" Nekhludoff asked the doctor. The doctor looked at him through his glasses. "How did this happen? You mean, how did they die of heatstroke? You see, a whole winter in prison, with no activity, no light, and suddenly brought under the sun like today, so many people How can we not suffer from heat stroke when we walk together and have no air circulation?" "Then why should they be exiled?" "Then you can ask them. But who are you?" "I'm an outsider." "Oh! . . . I'm sorry, but I don't have time," said the doctor, pulling down his trouser legs again in annoyance, and going to the patient's bed. "Hi, how are you?" he asked the pale, crooked patient with a bandage around his neck. Meanwhile the lunatic sat on his bunk, stopped smoking, and just spat at the doctor. Nekhludoff went down to the yard, passed the fire brigade's horses, the hens, and the sentries in bronze helmets, went out the gate, got into his carriage (the driver was dozing again), and drove to Run to the train station.