'Or perhaps not,' Ragin said with a gentle smile.
'You damn well would! And suppose you suddenly became paralysed. Or say some crass upstart used his rank and position to insult you in public, and you knew he was bound to get away with it—that would teach you to refer people to the meaning of existence and true bliss.'
'This is highly original,' said Dr. Ragin, smiling with pleasure and rubbing his hands. 'Your bent for generalizations impresses me most agreeably, while your character-sketch of me . . . quite brilliant, sir! I enjoy talking to you hugely, I do confess. Well, sir, I've heard you out. Now will you be so good as to listen to me?'
XI
The conversation lasted another hour or so and obviously made a great impression on Ragin. He took to visiting the ward daily. He went there in the mornings and afternoons, and the evening darkness often overtook him deep in discussion with Gromov. Gromov was wary of him at first, suspecting him of evil intent and expressing open hostility, but then grew used to him, changing his harsh attitude for ironical condescension.
Soon rumours of Dr. Ragin's visits to Ward Number Six spread through the hospital. Why did he go there? Why did he stay for hours on end, what did he talk about, why didn't he write any prescriptions ? His assistant, Nikita, the nurses ... none of them could make sense ofit.
His conduct seemed peculiar. He was often out when Michael Avcrya- novich called, which had never happened before, and Daryushka was extremely put out because the doctor no longer had his beer at a definite hour and wa.s even late for his meals sometimes.
Once, at the end ofJune, Dr. Khobotov called to sec Ragin about something. Not finding him at home, he sought him in the yard, where he learnt that the old doctor was visiting the mental patients. Khobotov went into the hut and paused in the lobby, where he heard the following conversation.
'We shall never sec eye to eye and you'll never convert me,' said Gromov irritably. 'Yon arc totally ignorant of life, you have never suffered, you've only battened, leech-like, on others' woes, whereas I've never stopped suffering from my day of birth until now. So I frankly tell you I think myself your superior, more competent in every way. I have nothing to learn from you.'
'I have absolutely no idea of converting you,' Ragin brought out quietly, regretting the other's unwillingness to understand him. 'Anyway, that's not the point, my friend. The point is not that you have suffered and I haven't. Suffering and joy are transitory, so let's ignore the wretched things. The point is that you and I are thinking beings. We see each other as people capable of meditation and discussion, and that makes for our solidarity, different as our views may be. My friend, if you did but know how bored I am with general idiocy, mediocrity, obtuseness—and how glad I always am to talk to you. You are an intelligent man and I revel in your company.'
Khobotov opened the door an inch or two and peeped into the ward. The nightcapped Gromov and Dr. Ragin sat side by side on the bed. The madman grimaced and shuddered, frenziedly wrapping his smock about him, while the doctor sat perfectly still, his head lowered, his face red, helpless and sad-looking. Khobotov shrugged his shoulders, grinned and exchanged glances with Nikita. Nikita too shrugged.
Next day Khobotov came into the hut with Dr. Ragin's assistant. Both stood and eavesdropped in the lobby.
'The old man seems to have a screw loose,' said Khobotov, coming out of the hut.
'Lord, have mercy on our souls,' sighed the grandiose Scrgcy Sergeycvich, carefully avoiding the puddles so as not to dirty his brightly polished boots. 'Quite frankly, I've been expecting this for some time, my dear Eugene.'
XII
From now onwards Dr. Ragin began to notice an aura of mystery around him. Orderlies, nurses and patients would shoot him quizzical glances when they met him and then whisper to each other. Little Masha, the manager's daughter, whom he used to enjoy meeting in the hospital garden . . . when he smiled and went to stroke her head she now ran away for some reason. The postmaster Michael Averyanovich no longer said 'Perfectly true!' when listening to Ragin, but became mysteriously embarrassed, looked thoughtful and sad, and muttered 'Yes, quite so.' For some reason he was advising his friend to give up vodka and beer, but he didn't come straight out with this, he hinted at it, as a man of tact, and spoke of some battalion commanding officer ('grand chap') or else of a regimental chaplain ('first-rate bloke') who had taken to drink and fallen ill, but completely recovered after going on the wagon. Dr. Ragin's colleague Khobotov visited him a couple of times, also advising him to give up spirits, and recommending him to take potassium bromide for no obvious reason.
In August Dr. Ragin received a letter from the Mayor asking him to call on most urgent business. Reaching the to^n hall at the appointed time, Ragin found the district military commander, the county school superintendent, a town councillor, Khobotov, and also a stout, fair individual who was introduced as a doctor. This doctor had an unpronounceable Polish surname, lived on a stud farm about twenty miles away and happened to be passing through to^n.
'There's a memorandum here that's up your street, like,' the councillor told Ragin after they had exchanged greetings and sat do^n at the table. 'Dr. Khobotov here says there ain't enough space for the dispensary in the main block. It ought to be moved to one of the huts, he reckons. Now, moving it ain't no problem', of course—but the thing is, that hut's in need of repair, like.'
'Yes, there will have to be repairs,' said Ragin after some thought. 'Say we take the corner hut as our dispensary, then I suppose it will require five hundred roubles at least. It's an unproductive expense.'
There was a short pause.
'Ten years ago,' Ragin continued quietly, 'I had the honour to report that this hospital as it stood was a luxury which the to^n couldn't afford. It was built in the forties, but things were different then, weren't they? The townwn spends too much on unneeded buildings and unnecessary posts. If we changed the system we could maintain two model hospitals on the same money, I reckon.'
'Oh, so it's the system we want to change now, is it?' the councillor asked forcefully.
'I have already had the honour of reporting that our health department should be transferred to the Rural District.'
'You give the R.D.C. money and they'll only steal it,' the fair-haired doctor laughed.
'That's the way of it,' agreed the councillor, also with a laugh.
Dr. Ragin gazed with dull, lack-lustre eyes at the fair-haired doctor.
'One should be fair,' he said.
Another pause followed. Tea was served. Very embarrassed for some reason, the military commander reached across the table to touch Ragin on the arm.
'You've quite forgotten us, Doctor,' he said. 'But then you are a bit of a monk—don't play cards, don't like women. You're bored with the likes of us.'
Living in this town . .. oh, what a bore for any self-respecting man, they all started saying. There was no theatre, no music. At the last club dance there had been about twenty ladies and only two gentlemen. Young people didn't dance, but they were always swarming round the bar or playing cards. Without looking at anyone, Dr. Ragin spoke slowly and quietly about what a great, great pity it was that the townsfolk squandered their vital energies, their hearts and their minds on cards and gossip, that they neither could nor would find time for interesting conversation and reading, that they had no use for intellectual pleasures. Intellect was the one fascinating and remarkable thing, all the rest was vulgar triviality.
Khobotov listened carefully to his colleague. Then he suddenly asked a question.
'What is today's date, Dr. Ragin.'
After receiving an answer, Khobotov and the fair-haired doctor began questioning Ragin in the manner of examiners aware of their own incompetence. What day of the week was it? How many days were there in the year? And was it true that Ward Number Six housed a remarkable prophet?