'Insarov?'

'Yes, our lodger, to be sure; yesterday morning he was still on his
legs, in the evening he asked for nothing but drink; the missis took
him some water, and at night he began talking away; we could hear him
through the partition-wall; and this morning he lies without a word
like a log, and the fever he's in, Lord have mercy on us! I thought,
upon my word, he'll die for sure; I ought to send word to the police
station, I thought. For he's so alone; but the missis said: "Go to
that gentleman," she says, "at whose country place our lodger stayed;
maybe he'll tell you what to do, or come himself." So I've come to
your honour, for we can't, so to say----'

Bersenyev snatched up his cap, thrust a rouble into the tailor's hand,
and at once set off with him post haste to Insarov's lodgings.

He found him lying on the sofa, unconscious and not undressed. His
face was terribly changed. Bersenyev at once ordered the people of the
house to undress him and put him to bed, while he rushed off himself
and returned with a doctor. The doctor prescribed leeches,
mustard-poultices, and calomel, and ordered him to be bled.

'Is he dangerously ill?' asked Bersenyev.

'Yes, very dangerously,' answered the doctor. 'Severe inflammation of
the lungs; peripneumonia fully developed, and the brain perhaps
affected, but the patient is young. His very strength is something
against him now. I was sent for too late; still we will do all that
science dictates.'