Three hours after his meal the doctor was on his way to bathe in the pond, still ^^^ng. 'Should I perhaps do what anyone else would do in the circ^stances—let him sue me? Being unquestionably in the wrong, I shan't try to defend myself, and the judge will send me to gaol. Thus the injured party will receive satisfaction, and those who look up to me will see that I was in the wrong.'
The idea appealed to him. He was pleased, and felt that the problem had been solved in the fairest possible way.
'Well, that's fine!' he thought, wading into the water and watching shoals of golden crucians scurrying away from him. 'Let himsue. It will suit him aU the better in that our professional relationship has been curtailed, and after this scandal one or other of us will have to leave the hospital anyway.'
In the evening the doctor ordered his trap, intending to drive over to the garrison commander's for bridge. When he had his hat and coat on, and stood in his study putting his gloves on ready to leave, the outer door opened creakingly, and someone quietly entered the hall.
'Who's there?' called the doctor.
A hollow voice answered. 'It's me, sir.'
The doctor's heart suddenly thumped. Embarrassment and a mys- terious feeling of panic suddenly chilled him all over. Michael Smir- novsky, the orderly—it was he—coughed softly, and came timidly into the study.
'Please forgive me, Doctor,' he said in a hollow, guilty voice after a brief silence.
The doctor was taken aback, and did not know what to say. He realized that the man's reason for abasing himself and apologizing was neither Christian meekness, nor a wish to heap coals of fire on his ill- user, but simply self-interest. 'I'll make myself apologize, and with luck I won't get the sack and lose my livelihood.' What could be more insulting to human dignity?
'Forgive me,' repeated the man.
'Now then,' said the doctor, trying not to look at him, and still not knowing what to say. 'Very well, I assaulted you, and I, er, must be punished—must give you satisfaction, that is. You're not a duelling man. Nor am I, for that matter. I have given you offence and you, er, you can bring suit against me before the Justices of the Peace and I'll take my punishment. But we can't both stay on here. One of us—you or I—will have to go.'
('Oh God, I'm saying all the wrong things,' thought the doctor, aghast. 'How utterly stupid!')
'In other words, sue me. But we can't go on working together. It's you or me. You'd better start proceedings tomorrow.'
The orderly gazed sullenly at the doctor, and then his dark, dim eyes glinted with blatant contempt. He had always thought the doctor an unpractical, volatile, puerile creature, and he despised him now for being so nervous and talking so much fussy nonsense.
'Well, don't think I won't,' said he grimly and spitefully.
'Then go ahead.'
'You think I won't do it, don't you? Well, you're wrong! You have no right to raise your hand to me. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Only drunken peasants hit people, and you're an educated man.'
Suddenly the doctor's hatred all boiled up inside him. 'You clear out of here!' he shouted in a voice unlike his
The orderly was reluctant to budge, as if having something else to say, but went into the hall and stood there, plunged in thought. Then, having apparently made up his mind to something, he marched reso- lutely out.
'How utterly stupid!' muttered the doctor after the other had gone. 'How stupid and trite it all is.'
His handling of the orderly had been infantile, he felt, and he was beginning to see that his notions about the lawsuit were all foolish, complicating the problem instead of solving it.
'How stupid!' he repeated as he sat in his carriage, and later while playing bridge at the garrison commander's. 'Am I really so unedu- cated, do I know so little oflife, that I can't solve this simple problem? Oh, what shaU I do?'
Next morning the doctor saw the orderly's wife getting into a ^mage. 'She is off to Auntie's,' he thought. 'Well, let her go!'
The hospital managing without an orderly, and though the Council should have been given notification, the doctor was still unable to frame a letter. It's tenor must now be: 'Kindly dismiss my orderly, though I am to blame, not he.' But to express the idea without it sounding foolish and ignominious—that was almost beyond any decent man.
Two or three days later the doctor was told that his asistant had gone and complained to Leo Trofimovich, the Chairman, who had not let him get a word out, but had stamped his feet and sent him packing.
'I know your sort!' he had shouted. 'Get out! I won't listen!'
From the Chairman the assistant had gone to the to^ hall, and had filed a complaint—neither mentioning the assault nor asking anything for himself—to the effect that the doctor had several times made dis- paraging co^ments about the Council and its Chairman in his presence, that the doctor's method of treating patients was incorrect, that he was neglectful in making his rounds of the district, and so on. Hearing of this, the doctor laughed and thought what a fool the man was. He felt ashamed and sorry for one who behaved so foolishly. The more stupid things a man does in his defence the more defenceles and feeble he must be.
Exactly one week later the doctor received a s^mons from the Justice ofthe Peace.
'Now this is idi^^ ^m riot,' he thought as he signed the pa^rc. 'This is the ultimate in sheer sillines.'
Driving over to the court-house on a calm, overcast morning, he no longer felt embarraued, but was vexed and disgusted. He was furious with himself, with the orderly, with the whole busines. 'I'll just tell the court that the whole lot of them can go to blazes,' he raged. ' "You're all jackasses, and you have no sense", I'U say.'
Driving up to the court-house, he saw three of his n^^ and the Mermaid by the door. They had been called as wimesses. When he saw the nurses and that merry Sister—she was shifting from foot to foot in her excitement, and had even blushed with pleasure on seeing the protagonist of the impending trial—the incensed doctor wanted to pounce on them like a hawk and stun them with a 'Who said you could leave the hospital? Be so good as to return this instant.' But he took a hold on himself, tried to seem calm, and picked his way through the crowd of peasants to the court-house. The chamber was empty, and the judge's chain of office hung on the back of his armchair. Entering the clerk's cubicle, the doctor saw a thin-faced young man in a linen jacket with bulging pockeB—the clerk—and the orderly, who sat at a table idly le^mg through court records. The clerk stood up when the doctor came in. The orderly rose too, looking rather put out.
'Isn't Alexander Arkhipovich here yet?' the doctor asked
'No, Doctor. He's at his house, sir,' the clerk ^wered.
The court-house was in one of the outbuildings of the judge's estate, and the judge himself lived in the manor house. Leaving the court-house, the doctor made his way slowly towards that residence, and found Alexander Arkhipovich in the dining-room, where a samo- var was steaming. The judge wore neither coat nor waistcoat and had his shirt unbuttoned. He was standing by the table, holding a teapot in both hands and pouring tea as dark as coffee into a glau. Seeing his visitor, he quickly pulled up another glau and filled it.
'With or without sugar?' he asked by way of greeting.