"No remedies are any good," said Aglaya, with a sour grimace.
"No, but this one will be. I got it from an Armenian."
He spoke go confidently that Aglaya had faith in the efficacy of the Armenian's medicine.
"Oh, all right then; give it me."
He produced the phial.
"Is it nasty?" asked Aglaya.
"it's delightful stuff to taste, and it acts wonderfully. Only it will cause you a little inconvenience."
Aglaya made a wry face.
"Drink, drink."
"Can it be taken in Madeira?"
"Yes."
"Then you drink the Madeira with me," said Aglaya, prompted by caprice.
Saranin poured out two glasses of Madeira, and into his wife's glass he poured the admixture.
"I feel a bit cold," said Aglaya softly and sluggishly. "I should like my wrap."
Saranin ran to fetch the wrap. When he returned, the glasses stood as before. Aglaya sat down and smiled.
He laid the wrap round her.
"I feel as if I were better," said she. "Am I to drink?"
"Drink, drink," cried Saranin. "Your health!"
