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explaining his opinion, that there was a commencement of tuberculous
trouble, but...and so on. The celebrated doctor listened to him, and in
the middle of his sentence looked at his big gold watch.
“Yes,” said he. “But...”
The family doctor respectfully ceased in the middle of his observa-
tions.
“The commencement of the tuberculous process we are not, as you
are aware, able to define; till there are cavities, there is nothing definite.
But we may suspect it. And there are indications; malnutrition, ner-
vous excitability, and so on. The question stands thus: in presence of
indications of tuberculous process, what is to be done to maintain
nutrition?”
“But, you know, there are always moral, spiritual causes at the back
in these cases,” the family doctor permitted himself to interpolate with
a subtle smile.
“Yes, that’s an understood thing,” responded the celebrated physi-
cian, again glancing at his watch. “Beg pardon, is the Yausky bridge
done yet, or shall I have to drive around?” he asked. “Ah! it is. Oh, well,
then I can do it in twenty minutes. So we were saying the problem may
be put thus: to maintain nutrition and to give tone to the nerves. The
one is in close connection with the other, one must attack both sides at
once.”
“And how about a tour abroad?” asked the family doctor.
“I’ve no liking for foreign tours. And take note: if there is an early
stage of tuberculous process, of which we cannot be certain, a foreign
tour will be of no use. What is wanted is means of improving nutrition,
and not for lowering it.” And the celebrated doctor expounded his plan
of treatment with Soden waters, a remedy obviously prescribed prima-
rily on the ground that they could do no harm.
The family doctor listened attentively and respectfully.
“But in favor of foreign travel I would urge the change of habits,
the removal from conditions calling up reminiscences. And then the
mother wishes it,” he added.
“Ah! Well, in that case, to be sure, let them go. Only, those Ger-
man quacks are mischievous.... They ought to be persuaded.... Well,
let them go then.”
He glanced once more at his watch.
“Oh! time’s up already,” And he went to the door. The celebrated
doctor announced to the princess (a feeling of what was due from him
dictated his doing so) that he ought to see the patient once more.
“What! another examination!” cried the mother, with horror.
“Oh, no, only a few details, princess.”
“Come this way.”
And the mother, accompanied by the doctor, went into the drawing
room to Kitty. Wasted and flushed, with a peculiar glitter in her eyes,
left there by the agony of shame she had been put through, Kitty stood
in the middle of the room. When the doctor came in she flushed
crimson, and her eyes filled with tears. All her illness and treatment
struck her as a thing so stupid, ludicrous even! Doctoring her seemed
to her as absurd as putting together the pieces of a broken vase. Her
heart was broken. Why would they try to cure her with pills and
powders? But she could not grieve her mother, especially as her mother
considered herself to blame.
“May I trouble you to sit down, princess?” the celebrated doctor
said to her.
He sat down with a smile, facing her, felt her pulse, and again
began asker her tiresome questions. She answered him, and all at once
got up, furious.