tanding for five minutes by his wife, he walked, raising his
right foot high, from the bedroom into a little room which was half
filled up by a big sofa; from there he went into the kitchen. After
wandering by the stove and the cook's bed he bent down and went by
a little door into the passage.

There he saw again the white scarf and the white face.

"At last," sighed Abogin, reaching towards the door-handle. "Let
us go, please."

The doctor started, glanced at him, and remembered. . . .

"Why, I have told you already that I can't go!" he said, growing
more animated. "How strange!"

"Doctor, I am not a stone, I fully understand your position . . .
I feel for you," Abogin said in an imploring voice, laying his hand
on his scarf. "But I am not asking you for myself. My wife is dying.
If you had heard that cry, if you had seen her face, you would
understand my pertinacity. My God, I thought you had gone to get
ready! Doctor, time is precious. Let us go, I entreat you."

"I cannot go," said Kirilov emphatically and he took a step into
the drawing-room.

Abogin followed him and caught hold of his sleeve.

"You are in sorrow, I understand. But I'm not asking you to a case
of toothache, or to a consultation, but to save a human life!" he
went on entreating like a beggar. "Life comes before any personal
sorrow! Come, I ask for courage, for heroism! For the love of
humanity!"

"Humanity--that cuts both ways," Kirilov said irritably. "In the
name of humanity I beg you not to take me. And how queer it is,
really! I can hardly stand and you talk to me about humanity! I am
fit for nothing just now. . . . Nothing will induce me to go, and
I can't leave my wife alone. No, no. . ."

Kirilov waved his hands and staggered back.

"And . . . and don't ask me," he went on in a tone of alarm. "Excuse
me. By No. XIII of the regulations I am obliged to go and you have
the right to drag me by my collar . . . drag me if you like, but . . .
I am not fit . . . I can't even speak . . . excuse me."

"There is no need to take that tone to me, doctor!" said Abogin,
again taking the doctor by his sleeve. "What do I care about No.
XIII! To force you against your will I have no right whatever. If
you will, come; if you will not--God forgive you; but I am not
appealing to your will, but to your feelings. A young woman is
dying. You were just speaking of the death of your son. Who should
understand my horror if not you?"

Abogin's voice q