When he was drunk he was very pale, and kept rubbing his hands and laughing with a sound like a neigh:  “hee-hee-hee!” By way of bravado he used to strip and run about the country naked.  He used to eat flies and say they were rather sour.

IV

One day, after dinner, he ran breathless into the lodge and said:  “Go along, your sister has come.”

I went out, and there I found a hired brake from the town standing before the entrance of the great house.  My sister had come in it with Anyuta Blagovo and a gentleman in a military tunic.  Going up closer I recognized the latter:  it was the brother of Anyuta Blagovo, the army doctor.

“We have come to you for a picnic,” he said; “is that all right?”

My sister and Anyuta wanted to ask how I was getting on here, but both were silent, and simply gazed at me.  I was silent too.  They saw that I did not like the place, and tears came into my sister’s eyes, while Anyuta Blagovo turned crimson.

We went into the garden.  The doctor walked ahead of us all and said enthusiastically: 

“What air!  Holy Mother, what air!”

In appearance he was still a student.  And he walked and talked like a student, and the expression of his grey eyes was as keen, honest, and frank as a nice student’s.  Beside his tall and handsome sister he looked frail and thin; and his beard was thin too, and his voice, too, was a thin but rather agreeable tenor.  He was serving in a regiment somewhere, and had come home to his people for a holiday, and said he was going in the autumn to Petersburg for his examination as a doctor of medicine.  He was already a family man, with a wife and three children, he had married very young, in his second year at the University, and now people in the town said he was unhappy in his family life and was not living with his wife.

“What time is it?” my sister asked uneasily.  “We must get back in good time.  Papa let me come to see my brother on condition I was back at six.”

“Oh, bother your papa!” sighed the doctor.

I set the samovar.  We put down a carpet before the verandah of the great house and had our tea there, and the doctor knelt down, drank out of his saucer, and declared that he now knew what bliss was.  Then Tcheprakov came with the key and opened the glass door, and we all went into the house.  There it was half dark and mysterious, and smelt of mushrooms, and our footsteps had a hollow sound as though there were cellars under the floor.  The doctor stopped and touched the keys of the piano, and it responded faintly with a husky, quivering, but melodious chord; he tried his voice and sang a song, frowning and tapping impatiently with his foot when some note was mute.  My sister did not talk about going home, but walked about the rooms and kept saying: 

“How happy I am!  How happy I am!”