The doctor looked at me with a sort of ironical compassion.
'Nice of me!' he said as though to himself, 'as if he need know anything of it. In fact, I tell you again,' he added, raising his voice, 'the atmosphere here is not fit for you. You like being here, but what of that! it's nice and sweet-smelling in a greenhouse—but there's no living in it. Yes! do as I tell you, and go back to your Keidanov.'
The old princess came in, and began complaining to the doctor of her toothache. Then Zinaïda appeared.
'Come,' said the old princess, 'you must scold her, doctor. She's drinking iced water all day long; is that good for her, pray, with her delicate chest?'
'Why do you do that?' asked Lushin.
'Why, what effect could it have?'
'What effect? You might get a chill and die.'
'Truly? Do you mean it? Very well—so much the better.'
'A fine idea!' muttered the doctor. The old princess had gone out.
'Yes, a fine idea,' repeated Zinaïda. 'Is life such a festive affair? Just look about you. . . . Is it nice, eh? Or do you imagine I don't understand it, and don't feel it? It gives me
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