nothing to lead up to it, he told me a rather curious incident; and
here I will report his tale for the information of the indulgent
reader. I will try to tell it in the doctor's own words.

'You don't happen to know,' he began in a weak and quavering voice (the
common result of the use of unmixed Berezov snuff); 'you don't happen
to know the judge here, Mylov, Pavel Lukitch?... You don't know him?...
Well, it's all the same.' (He cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes.)
'Well, you see, the thing happened, to tell you exactly without
mistake, in Lent, at the very time of the thaws. I was sitting at his
house--our judge's, you know--playing preference. Our judge is a good
fellow, and fond of playing preference. Suddenly' (the doctor made
frequent use of this word, suddenly) 'they tell me, "There's a servant
asking for you." I say, "What does he want?" They say, "He has brought
a note--it must be from a patient." "Give me the note," I say. So it is
from a patient--well and good--you understand--it's our bread and
butter. ... But this is how it was: a lady, a widow, writes to me; she
says, "My daughter is dying. Come, for God's sake!" she says; "and the
horses have been sent for you." ... Well, that's all right. But she was
twenty miles from the town, and it was midnight out of doors, and the
roads in such a state, my word! And as she was poor herself, one could
not expect more than two silver roubles, and even that problematic; and
perhaps it might only be a matter of a roll of linen and a sack of
oatmeal in payment. However, duty, you know, before everything: a
fellow-creature may be dying. I hand over my cards at once to
Kalliopin, the member of the provincial commission, and return home. I
look; a wretched little trap was standing at the steps, with peasant's
horses, fat--too fat--and their coat as shaggy as felt; and the
coachman sitting with his cap off out of respect. Well, I think to
myself, "It's clear, my friend, these patients aren't rolling in