great attention, then asked for drink, and then began closing his eyes
again and turning his head restlessly on the pillow. I advised him to
have a little nap, adding that I should not go on further till he was
well again, and that I should establish myself in a room beside him.
'It's very nasty here ...' Pasinkov was beginning, but I stopped his
mouth, and went softly out. Elisei followed me.

'What is it, Elisei? Why, he's dying, isn't he?' I questioned the
faithful servant.

Elisei simply made a gesture with his hand, and turned away.

Having dismissed my driver, and rapidly moved my things into the next
room, I went to see whether Pasinkov was asleep. At the door I ran up
against a tall man, very fat and heavily built. His face, pock-marked
and puffy, expressed laziness--and nothing else; his tiny little eyes
seemed, as it were, glued up, and his lips looked polished, as though
he were just awake.

'Allow me to ask,' I questioned him, 'are you not the doctor?'

The fat man looked at me, seeming with an effort to lift his
overhanging forehead with his eyebrows.

'Yes, sir,' he responded at last.

'Do me the favour, Mr. Doctor, won't you, please, to come this way into
my room? Yakov Ivanitch, is, I believe, now asleep. I am a friend of
his and should like to have a little talk with you about his illness,
which makes me very uneasy.'