In the cheapest room of the furnished rooms “Lisbon” from the corner into the corner went the third-year medical student, Stepan Klochkov, and zealously assassinated his medicine. From the relentless, tense zubryachki his mouth was dry and his sweat appeared on his forehead. At the window, glazed at the edges with icy patterns, sat on the stool of his lodging, Anyuta, a small, slender brunette of about 25, very pale, with meek gray eyes. Bending her back, she was embroidering a man’s shirt with red thread along the collar. The work was hasty. The corridor clock struck two o’clock in the afternoon, but in the room it was not cleaned. A crumpled blanket, scattered pillows, books, a dress, a large dirty basin filled with soapy slops, in which cigarette butts were floating, rubbish on the floor-everything seemed to be piled together, deliberately mixed and crumpled. – The right lung consists of three parts. Klotchkov croaked. “Borders!” The upper
lobe on the front wall of the breast reaches up to 4 – 5 ribs, on the lateral surface up to the 4th rib. back to spina scapulae 1. Klochkov, trying to imagine what he had just read, raised his eyes to the ceiling. Not having received a clear idea, he began probing the upper ribs through his waistcoat. “These ribs look like piano keys,” he said. – In order not to get confused in the account, they certainly need to get used to. I’ll have to pocudit on the skeleton and on the living person. And now, Anyuta, let me orient myself! Anyuta left embroidery, took off her blouse and straightened up. Klochkov sat opposite her, frowned, and began to count her ribs. – Hm. The first rib is not probed. It is at the clavicle. This will be the second edge. Well, sir. This is the third. This is the fourth. Um. Well, sir. What are you grinning about? “Your fingers are cold!” – Oh well. do not die, do not turn. Hence, this is the third rib, and this is the fourth. The skinny you look like, but the ribs are barely probed. This is the second. this is the third. No, this way you will be confused
and you will not imagine clearly. I’ll have to draw. Where is my coal? Klochkov took a coal and drew several parallel lines corresponding to the ribs on the chest of Anyuta. – Excellent. Everything, as in the palm of your hand. Well, now you can knock. Stand up! Anyuta arose and lifted her chin. Klochkov started tapping and so immersed himself in this occupation that he did not notice how his lips, Anuta’s nose and fingers turned blue from the cold. Anyuta trembled and was afraid that the doctor, noticing her trembling, would stop making charcoal and knocking, and then, perhaps, would pass the exam badly. “Now everything is clear,” Klochkov said, stopping to knock. “You sit there and do not wash coal, but I’m still a little bit crooked.” And the medic again began to walk and cram. Anyuta, just tattooed, with black stripes on her chest, shrinking from the cold, sat and thought. She spoke very little, was always silent and thought, thought. For all six or seven years of her vacillation through the furnished rooms, such as Klochkov, she knew about five people. Now all of them have already graduated courses, went out into people and, of course, like decent people, have long ago forgotten it. One of them lives in Paris, two doctors, the fourth artist, and the fifth one is even said to be a professor. Klochkov – the sixth. Soon this one will finish the course, go out into people. Undoubtedly, the future is fine, and Klochkov will probably be a big man, but the present is quite bad: Klochkov does not have tobacco, no tea, and there are four pieces of sugar left. It is necessary to finish the embroidery as soon as possible, carry it to the customer and then buy the tea and tobacco received for the quarter received. “Can I come in?” – heard from the door. Anyuta quickly threw a woolen shawl over her shoulders. The artist Fetisov entered. “And I’m asking you,” he began, turning to Klochkov and looking brutally at the hair that hung over his forehead. “Do me a favor, lend me your lovely watchmaker for two!” I am writing, you see, a picture, but without a model it is impossible! “Ah, with pleasure!” agreed Klochkov. – Go, Anyuta. – What I did not see there! said Anyuta quietly. – Well, it’s full! A man for art asks, and not for trifles of any. Why not help, if you can? Anyuta began to dress. – And what do you write? asked Klochkov. – Psyche. A good story, but somehow it does not work out; I have to write everything from different models. Yesterday I wrote one with blue legs. Why, I ask, do you have blue legs? It says, stockings are fading. And you are all bitching! A happy man, there is patience. “Medicine is such a thing, that can not be done without zubryachki. – Hm. Sorry, Klochkov, but you live awfully like a pig! The devil only knows how to live! – So how? Otherwise, you can not live. From the father, I get only twelve per month, and this money is hard to live decently. – That’s right. – said the artist and frowned disgustedly, – but you can still better live. A developed person must necessarily be an aesthetic. Is not it? And you have the devil knows what! The bed is not cleaned, slops, rubbish. yesterday’s porridge on a plate. Ugh! “It’s true,” said the medic and confused, “but Anyuta had no time to clean it up today.” She’s always busy. When the artist and Anyuta came out, Klotchkov lay down on the sofa and began to cram his lying, then accidentally fell asleep and, waking up an hour later, propped his head on his fists and thoughtfully thought. He remembered the words of the artist that a developed person must necessarily be an aesthetic, and his situation in fact seemed to him now nasty, repulsive. He would certainly have foreseen the mental eye of his future, when he would receive his patients in the office, drink tea in the spacious dining room, in the company of his wife, a decent woman, and now this pelvis with slops, in which cigarette butts were floating, had the appearance of a nasty. Anyuta also seemed ugly, untidy, pathetic. And he decided to part with her, at once, by all means. When she, having returned from the artist, took off her fur coat, he got up and said to her seriously: “That’s it, my dear. Sit down and listen. We need to part! In a word, I do not want to live with you any more. Anyuta returned from the artist so tired, exhausted. Her face from a long standing on the nature of sank, lost weight, and his chin became more acute. In response to the words of the medic, she said nothing, and only her lips quivered. “Agree that sooner or later we would still have to give up,” said the medic. “You’re good, kind, and you’re not stupid, you’ll understand.” Anyuta again put on her fur coat, silently wrapped her embroidery in paper, collected threads, needles; a packet with four pieces of sugar found on the window and laid on the table near the books. – This is yours. sugar. she said softly, and turned away to hide her tears. “Well, why are you crying?” asked Klochkov. He walked around the room in embarrassment and said: “You are strange, right. You yourself know that we need to part. It’s not the same age that we’re together. She had already taken all of her nodules and was already turning to him to say goodbye, and he felt sorry for her. “Is it even one more week here,” he thought, “in fact, let him stay, and after a week I’ll tell her to leave.” AND, annoyed at his spinelessness, he shouted to her sternly: “Well, what are you standing there for?” Leave, so leave, but do not want, so take off your fur coat and stay! Stay here! Anyuta took off her fur coat, silently, quietly, then blew her nose, too, slowly, sighed and silently headed for her standing position – to the stool by the window. The student pulled his textbook to him and again went from corner to corner. – The right lung consists of three parts. he croaked. – The upper lobe on the front wall of the breast reaches up to 4-5 ribs. And in the corridor someone shouted in the throat: – Grigori, samovar! The student pulled his textbook to him and again went from corner to corner. – The right lung consists of three parts. he croaked. – The upper lobe on the front wall of the breast reaches up to 4-5 ribs. And in the corridor someone shouted in the throat: – Grigori, samovar! The student pulled his textbook to him and again went from corner to corner. – The right lung consists of three parts. he croaked. – The upper lobe on the front wall of the breast reaches up to 4-5 ribs. And in the corridor someone shouted in the throat: – Grigori, samovar!
