to have a look at a live fox, but how could he do without his mother?

After a little reflection he decided to ask the doctor to let his
mother stay in the hospital too, but before he had time to open his
mouth the lady assistant was already taking him upstairs. He walked
up and looked about him with his mouth open. The staircase, the
floors, and the doorposts--everything huge, straight, and bright-were
painted a splendid yellow colour, and had a delicious smell of
Lenten oil. On all sides lamps were hanging, strips of carpet
stretched along the floor, copper taps stuck out on the walls. But
best of all Pashka liked the bedstead upon which he was made to sit
down, and the grey woollen coverlet. He touched the pillows and the
coverlet with his hands, looked round the ward, and made up his
mind that it was very nice at the doctor's.

The ward was not a large one, it consisted of only three beds. One
bed stood empty, the second was occupied by Pashka, and on the third
sat an old man with sour eyes, who kept coughing and spitting into
a mug. From Pashka's bed part of another ward could be seen with
two beds; on one a very pale wasted-looking man with an india-rubber
bottle on his head was asleep; on the other a peasant with his head
tied up, looking very like a woman, was sitting with his arms spread
out.

After making Pashka sit down, the assistant went out and came back
a little later with a bundle of clothes under her arm.

"These are for you," she said, "put them on."

Pashka undressed and, not without satisfaction began attiring himself