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Goussiev
by
“It would be fun to give that fat fellow one on the back of his neck….” thought Goussiev, watching the fat Chinaman and yawning.
He dozed, and it seemed to him that all the world was slumbering. Time slipped swiftly away. The day passed imperceptibly; imperceptibly the twilight fell…. The steamer was still no longer but was moving on.
IV
Two days passed. Pavel Ivanich no longer sat up, but lay full length; his eyes were closed and his nose seemed to be sharper than ever.
“Pavel Ivanich!” called Goussiev, “Pavel Ivanich.”
Pavel Ivanich opened his eyes and moved his lips.
“Aren’t you well?”
“It’s nothing,” answered Pavel Ivanich, breathing heavily. “It’s nothing. No. I’m much better. You see I can lie down now. I’m much better.”
“Thank God for it, Pavel Ivanich.”
“When I compare myself with you, I am sorry for you … poor devils. My lungs are all right; my cough comes from indigestion … I can endure this hell, not to mention the Red Sea! Besides, I have a critical attitude toward my illness, as well as to my medicine. But you … you are ignorant…. It’s hard lines on you, very hard.”
The ship was running smoothly; it was calm but still stifling and hot as a Turkish bath; it was hard not only to speak but even to listen without an effort. Goussiev clasped his knees, leaned his head on them and thought of his native place. My God, in such heat it was a pleasure to think of snow and cold! He saw himself driving on a sledge, and suddenly the horses were frightened and bolted…. Heedless of roads, dikes, ditches they rushed like mad through the village, across the pond, past the works, through the fields…. “Hold them in!” cried the women and the passers-by. “Hold them in!” But why hold them in? Let the cold wind slap your face and cut your hands; let the lumps of snow thrown up by the horses’ hoofs fall on your hat, down your neck and chest; let the runners of the sledge be buckled, and the traces and harness be torn and be damned to it! What fun when the sledge topples over and you are flung hard into a snow-drift; with your face slap into the snow, and you get up all white with your moustaches covered with icicles, hatless, gloveless, with your belt undone…. People laugh and dogs bark….
Pavel Ivanich, with one eye half open looked at Goussiev and asked quietly:
“Goussiev, did your commander steal?”
“How do I know, Pavel Ivanich? The likes of us don’t hear of it.”
A long time passed in silence. Goussiev thought, dreamed, drank water; it was difficult to speak, difficult to hear, and he was afraid of being spoken to. One hour passed, a second, a third; evening came, then night; but he noticed nothing as he sat dreaming of the snow.
He could hear some one coming into the ward; voices, but five minutes passed and all was still.
“God rest his soul!” said the soldier with the bandaged hand. “He was a restless man.”
“What?” asked Goussiev. “Who?”
“He’s dead. He has just been taken up-stairs.”
“Oh, well,” muttered Goussiev with a yawn. “God rest his soul.”
“What do you think, Goussiev?” asked the bandaged soldier after some time. “Will he go to heaven?”
“Who?”
“Pavel Ivanich.”
“He will. He suffered much. Besides, he was a priest’s son, and priests have many relations. They will pray for his soul.”
The bandaged soldier sat down on Goussiev’s hammock and said in an undertone:
“You won’t live much longer, Goussiev. You’ll never see Russia.”
“Did the doctor or the nurse tell you that?” asked Goussiev.
“No one told me, but I can see it. You can always tell when a man is going to die soon. You neither eat nor drink, and you have gone very thin and awful to look at. Consumption. That’s what it is. I’m not saying this to make you uneasy, but because I thought you might like to have the last sacrament. And if you have any money, you had better give it to the senior officer.”