‘Well, doctor, decide our fate,’ said the Princess. ‘Tell me everything.’ ‘Is there any hope?’ is what she wanted to say, but her lips had started trembling, and she could not manage to utter the question. ‘Well, doctor?’
‘I will now consult with my colleague, Princess, and then I will have the honour of presenting my opinion to you.’
‘So we should leave you?’
‘If you please.’
The Princess sighed and went out.
When the doctors were left alone, the family doctor began timidly to expound his opinion, which was that there were symptoms of incipient tuberculosis, but … and so on. The famous doctor listened to him, and halfway through his deliberations looked at his large gold watch.
‘I see,’ said he. ‘But …’
The family doctor respectfully fell silent halfway through his deliberations.
‘As you know, we are not in a position to diagnose incipient tuberculosis; until there are cavities, nothing is definite. But we may suspect it. And there are indications: malnutrition, nervous excitement, and so on. The question is this: with a case of suspected tuberculosis, what should be done to maintain nutrition?’
‘But there are always hidden moral and spiritual causes in such cases, as you know,’ the family doctor permitted himself to interject with a subtle smile.
‘Yes, that goes without saying,’ replied the famous doctor, looking again at his watch. ‘Forgive me, is the Yauza bridge* in place, or do you still have to drive round?’ he asked. ‘Ah, it is in place! Oh, well then, I can do it in twenty minutes. So as we were saying, the question is to maintain good nutrition and to restore the nerves. The one is connected to the other, so the problem must be tackled from both sides.’
‘But what about a trip abroad?’ asked the family doctor.
‘I’m against trips abroad. And please note: if we are dealing with a case of incipient tuberculosis, of which we cannot be certain, a trip abroad will not help. What is needed is a means of sustaining nutrition, and not damaging it.’
And the famous doctor set out his plan for a course of treatment with Soden waters,* the main aim of prescribing them clearly being that they could do no harm.
The family doctor listened attentively and respectfully.
‘But in favour of a trip abroad I would propose a change of routine, and removal from conditions liable to provoke memories. And then the mother is keen,’ he said.
‘Ah! Well, in that case, why not, let them go; but those German charlatans will do harm, I warn you … They must listen to advice … Well, let them go then.’
He glanced at his watch again.
‘Oh! It’s already time I went,’ he said, and made for the door.
The famous doctor announced to the Princess (a sense of propriety prompted this) that he needed to see the patient again.
‘What? Another examination!’ exclaimed the mother in horror.
‘Oh no, I just need a few details, Princess.’
‘By all means.’
And accompanied by the doctor, the mother went into the drawing room to find Kitty. Emaciated and crimson-faced, with a particular glitter in her eyes as a result of the shame she had endured, Kitty was standing in the middle of the room. When the doctor came in, she blushed deeply and her eyes filled with tears. Her illness and treatment all seemed so stupid and even ridiculous to her! The idea of treating her seemed as absurd to her as putting together the pieces of a broken vase. Her heart was broken. Why did they want to treat her with pills and powders? But she could not hurt her mother, especially since her mother considered herself to blame.
‘If you would be good enough to sit down, Princess,’ the famous doctor said to her.
He sat down opposite her with a smile, felt her pulse, and again started asking tedious questions. She answered him, then suddenly lost her temper and got to her feet.
‘Excuse me, doctor, but this really is not going to lead anywhere, and you’ve asked me the same thing three times.’
The famous doctor was not offended.
‘Morbid irritation,’ he said to the Princess when Kitty had left the room. ‘I was just finishing, in any case …’
And the doctor set out his diagnosis of Kitty’s condition in scientific terms to the Princess as if she were an exceptionally intelligent woman, and concluded with instructions about how to drink the waters which were not needed. On the question of whether they should go abroad, the doctor was plunged into reflection, as if trying to solve a difficult problem. Finally he presented his decision: they were to go and not trust any charlatans, but refer to him on all matters.
It was as if something light-hearted happened after the doctor left. The mother cheered up when she went back to her daughter, and Kitty pretended that she had cheered up. These days she often, in fact almost always, had to pretend.
‘I’m well, really, Maman. But if you want to go, let’s go!’ she said, and trying to show interest in the forthcoming trip, she started talking about preparations for their departure.
2
AFTER the doctor left, Dolly arrived. She knew a consultation was to have taken place that day, and although she had only recently risen from her confinement (she had given birth to a girl at the end of winter), and although she had enough misery and trouble of her own, she had left her newborn baby and a sick daughter and driven over in order to learn Kitty’s fate, which was being decided that day.
‘Well?’ she said, coming into the drawing room without taking off her hat. ‘You’re all very jolly. Must be good news, then?’
They tried to tell her what the doctor had said, but it turned out that although the doctor had talked eloquently and at great length, it was utterly impossible to relay what he had said. The only interesting thing was the decision to go abroad.
Dolly could not help sighing. Her best friend, her sister, was going away. And her life was not at all jolly. Relations with Stepan Arkadyich had become humiliating following their reconciliation. The welding carried out by Anna had not proved durable, and domestic harmony had suffered another fracture in the same place. There was nothing specific, but Stepan Arkadyich was almost never at home, there was also almost never any money at home, and Dolly was constantly plagued by suspicions of infidelity, which she was already driving away, dreading the agonies of jealousy she had experienced before. The first attack of jealousy, once experienced, could not come back again, and even the discovery of infidelity could not affect her so much as it had the first time. Such a discovery now would only mean a disruption to her normal domestic routine, so she allowed herself to be deceived, while despising him and most of all herself for this weakness. On top of all this, caring for a large family was a constant worry to her: either her newborn baby was not feeding properly, or the nanny had left, or, as now, one of the children had fallen ill.