used to him, and his abrupt manner changed to one
of condescending irony.
Soon it was all over the hospital that the doctor, Andrey Yefimitch,
had taken to visiting Ward No. 6. No one--neither Sergey Sergevitch,
nor Nikita, nor the nurses--could conceive why he went there, why
he stayed there for hours together, what he was talking about, and
why he did not write prescriptions. His actions seemed strange.
Often Mihail Averyanitch did not find him at home, which had never
happened in the past, and Daryushka was greatly perturbed, for the
doctor drank his beer now at no definite time, and sometimes was
even late for dinner.
One day--it was at the end of June--Dr. Hobotov went to see
Andrey Yefimitch about something. Not finding him at home, he
proceeded to look for him in the yard; there he was told that the
old doctor had gone to see the mental patients. Going into the lodge
and stopping in the entry, Hobotov heard the following conversation:
"We shall never agree, and you will not succeed in converting me
to your faith," Ivan Dmitritch was saying irritably; "you are utterly
ignorant of reality, and you have never known suffering, but have
only like a leech fed beside the sufferings of others, while I have
been in continual suffering from the day of my birth till to-day.
For that reason, I tell you frankly, I consider myself superior to
you and more competent in every respect. It's not for you to teach
me."
"I have absolutely no ambition to convert you to my faith," said
Andrey Yefimitch gently, and with regret that the other refused to
understand him. "And that is not what matters, my friend; what
matters is not that you have suffered and I have not. Joy and
suffering are passing; let us leave them, never mind them. What
matters is that you and I think; we see in each other people who
are capable of thinking and reasoning, and that is a common bond
between us however different our views. If you knew, my friend, how
sick I am of the universal senselessness, ineptitude, stupidity,
and with what delight I always talk with you! You are an intelligent
man, and I enjoyed your company."
Hobotov opened the door an inch and glanced into the ward; Ivan
Dmitritch in his night-cap and the doctor Andrey Yefimitch were
sitting side by side on the bed. The madman was grimacing, twitching,
and convulsively wrapping himself in his gown, while the doctor sat
motionless with bowed head, and his face was red and look helpless
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