'I don't know,' Klimov replied, lying down and covering his mouth, so as not to inhale the acrid tobacco smoke.
'And when shall we be in Tver?'
'I don't know. I'm sorry, but I ... I can't talk. I'm ill, I've caught a chill today.'
The Finn knocked his pipe out on the window-frame and began talking about his brother, the sailor. Klimov was not listening any more. He was thinking longingly of his soft, comfortable bed, his carafe of cold water and his sister Katya, who was so good at putting him to bed, soothing him and handing him his water. He even smiled as an image flashed through his mind of his batman Pavel, taking off his master's heavy, thickly-lined boots and placing the water on his bedside table. All he needed to do, he felt, was to lie down in his own bed and drink some water, and this nightmare would give way to a deep, healthy sleep.
'Mail aboard.5' a hollow voice shouted from a distance.
'All aboard!' replied a deep voice almost beneath the window.
They were already two or three stations beyond Spirovo.
Time flew by quickly, in jumps, and the bells, the whistles and the stops seemed never-ending. In despair Klimov buried his face in the corner of the seat, wrapped his hands round his head and began thinking again about his sister Katya and his batman Pavel, but sister and batman became mixed up with the shadowy images, spun round with them, and disappeared. His hot breath, reflected off the back of the seat, burned his face, his legs were lying uncomfortably and his back was in a draught from the window, but no matter how agonis- ing his position, he no longer had any wish to change it . . . A heavy, nightmarish inertia gradually overwhelmed him and fettered his limbs.
When he finally ventured to raise his head, the carriage was already light. The passengers were putting on their outdoor coats and moving about. The train was stationary. Porters in white aprons and wearing numbered discs were bustling round the passengers, grabbing their suitcases. Klimov put on his greatcoat and mechani- cally followed the other passengers out of the carriage, and it was as if someone other than himself were moving in his place, some stranger, and he felt that his fever, his thirst and those menacing images which had given him no sleep all night, had come out of the carriage with him. Mechanically he collected his luggage and hired a cab. The driver demanded a rouble and a quarter to take him to
Povarskaya Street, but he didn't haggle and took his seat on the sledgc obediently and without demur. He was aware still of being ovcrcharged, but money no longer had the slightest value for him.
At home Klimov was met by his aunt and sister Katya, a girl of eighteen. Katya greeted him holding an exercise-book and a pencil, and he remembered that she was preparing for her teacher's exami- nation. Without replying to their questions and greetings, he walked blindly right through the apanment, panting feverishly, and on reaching his bed collapsed onto the pillow. The Finn, the red cap, the lady with the white teeth, the smell of fried meat and thc flickering spots of light took over his senses completely, and he no longer knew where he was or heard the anxious voices round him.
When he came to, he saw that he was lying in his own bed, undressed, he saw the carafe of water and Pavel, but none of this made him feel any cooler, more relaxed or more comfortable. He still could not find the right position for his armsand legs, his tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth, and he could hear the wheezing of the Finn's pipe. A doctor with a black beard was fussing by his bedside and his ample, solid back kept bumping into Pavel.
'Don't worry, lad,' he mumbled, 'don't worry! Well done, well done .. . Goot, goot .. .'
The doctor kept calling Klimov 'lad' and saying 'goot' instead of 'good' and 'ya' for 'yes'.
'Ya, ya, ya,' he babbled on. 'Goot, goot . .. Well done, lad ... Keep your spirits up!'
The doctor's brisk, offhand way of speaking, his well-fed face and his condescending use of 'lad' irritated Klimov.
'Why do you keep calling me "lad"?' he groaned. 'Damned cheek!'
And the sound of his own voice scared him. It was such a dry, weak, singsong voice that he could not recognise it.
'Well done, well done,' mumbled the doctor, not in the least offended. 'Try not to get angry . . . Ya, ya, ya . ..'
Time flew by just as amazingly quickly at home as in the railway carriage. Daylight in the bedroom kept changing to dusk. The doctor seemed to be there all the time, saying 'ya, ya, ya' every minute. An unbroken procession of people filed through the bedroom. There was Pavel, the Finn, Captain Yaroshevich, Sergeant-Major Mak- simenko, the red peak-cap, the lady with the white teeth, and the doctor. They were all taiking, waving their arms about, smoking and eating. Once, in daylight, Klimov even saw his regimental priest,
Father Alexander, wearing his stole and with a prayer-book in his hands, standing at the foot of the bed mumbling something and looking more serious than Klimov had ever seen before. The lieuten- ant remembered that Father Alexander referred jovially to all the Catholic officers as 'Polacks', and wanting to make him laugh, he shouted:
'Father, Yaroshevich the Polack's run off to the Pole!'
But Father Alexander, a cheerful man who was easily amused, did not burst out laughing but became even more serious and made the sign of the cross over Klimov. At night two noiseless shadows came and went from the room in turn. They belonged to his aunt and his sister. His sister's shadow knelt down and began praying, and when she bowed to the icon, her grey shadow on the wall bowed with her, so that there were two shadows praying to God. All the time Klimov could smell fried meat and the Finn's pipe, but on one occasion he became aware of a strong smell of incense. His stomach began to heave and he shouted:
'The incense! Take away the incense!'
There was no reply. The only sounds were of priests chanting softly somewhere and ofsomeone running down the main stairs . . .
When Klimov emerged from his delirium, there was not a soul in the bedroom. The morning sun was flooding through the lowered curtain, and a trembling beam, as fine and graceful as a rapier, was playing on the carafe. The clatter of wheels could be heard - so he knew the snow must have gone from the streets. The lieutenant looked at the beam of sunlight, at the familiar furniture and the door, and the first thing he did was to start laughing. His chest and stomach quivered with sweet, happy, tickling laughter. His whole being was seized from head to foot by a sensation of boundless happiness and joy at being alive, like that which the first man probably experienced when he was created and saw the world for the first time. Klimov longed passionately for movement, for people, for human speech. He was lying flat on his back, he could move nothing but his arms, but- he scarcely noticed this and concentrated all his attention on little things. He delighted in his own breathing and laughter, delighted in the existence of the carafe, the ceiling, the sunbeam and the braid on the curtain. Even in a cramped little corner like the bedroom, God's world seemed to him beautiful, varied and magnificent. When the doctor appeared, the lieutenant thought what a marvellous thing medicine was, what a charming and sympathetic man the doctor was, and how good and intercsting pcoplc were gcnerally.
'Ya, ya, ya,' the doctor babbled on. 'Well done,well done . . .Now we're all right again . . . Goot, goot.'
The lieutenant was listening and laughing joyfully. He remem- bered the Finn, the lady with thc white teeth, thc smoked bacon, and suddenly he fclt the urge to eat and smoke.
'Doctor,' he said, 'tell them to bring me a crust of ryc bread and salt and . . . and some sardines.'
But the doctor refused, nor would Pavel obey his ordcr and go for the bread. This was too much for thc lieutenant, and he burst into tears like a spoilt child.
'Ah, poor little baby!' said the doctor, laughing. 'Hushaby, mummy's baby!'
Klimov also began laughing and after the doctor's departure fell sound aslcep. He woke up with the same feeling of joy and happiness as bcfore. His aunt was sitting by his bedside.