quiet and avoid any excitement. 'I dare say!' thought Aratov; 'that idea's
a little too late, my good friend!' 'What is wrong with Yasha?' queried
Platonida Ivanovna, as she slipped a three-rouble note into Paramon
Paramonitch's hand in the doorway. The district doctor, who like all modern
physicians--especially those who wear a government uniform--was fond of
showing off with scientific terms, announced that her nephew's diagnosis
showed all the symptoms of neurotic cardialgia, and there were febrile
symptoms also. 'Speak plainer, my dear sir; do,' cut in Platonida Ivanovna;
'don't terrify me with your Latin; you're not in your surgery!' 'His
heart's not right,' the doctor explained; 'and, well--there's a little
fever too' ... and he repeated his advice as to perfect quiet and absence
of excitement. 'But there's no danger, is there?' Platonida Ivanovna
inquired severely ('You dare rush off into Latin again,' she implied.) 'No
need to anticipate any at present!'

The doctor went away ... and Platonida Ivanovna grieved.... She sent to the
surgery, though, for the medicine, which Aratov would not take, in spite of
her entreaties. He refused any herb-tea too. 'And why are you so uneasy,
dear?' he said to her; 'I assure you, I'm at this moment the sanest and
happiest man in the whole world!' Platonida Ivanovna could only shake her
head. Towards evening he grew rather feverish; and still he insisted
that she should not stay in his room, but should go to sleep in her own.
Platonida Ivanovna obeyed; but she did not undress, and did not lie down.
She sat in an arm-chair, and was all the while listening and murmuring her
prayers.

She was just beginning to doze, when suddenly she was awakened by a
terrible piercing shriek. She jumped up, rushed into Aratov's room, and as
on the night before, found him lying on the floor.