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- Стр. 708/1273
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This
simple
thought
could
not
occur
to
the
doctors
(
as
it
can
not
occur
to
a
wizard
that
he
is
unable
to
work
his
charms
)
because
the
business
of
their
lives
was
to
cure
,
and
they
received
money
for
it
and
had
spent
the
best
years
of
their
lives
on
that
business
.
But
,
above
all
,
that
thought
was
kept
out
of
their
minds
by
the
fact
that
they
saw
they
were
really
useful
,
as
in
fact
they
were
to
the
whole
Rostóv
family
.
Their
usefulness
did
not
depend
on
making
the
patient
swallow
substances
for
the
most
part
harmful
(
the
harm
was
scarcely
perceptible
,
as
they
were
given
in
small
doses
)
,
but
they
were
useful
,
necessary
,
and
indispensable
because
they
satisfied
a
mental
need
of
the
invalid
and
of
those
who
loved
her
--
and
that
is
why
there
are
,
and
always
will
be
,
pseudo-healers
,
wise
women
,
homeopaths
,
and
allopaths
.
They
satisfied
that
eternal
human
need
for
hope
of
relief
,
for
sympathy
,
and
that
something
should
be
done
,
which
is
felt
by
those
who
are
suffering
.
They
satisfied
the
need
seen
in
its
most
elementary
form
in
a
child
,
when
it
wants
to
have
a
place
rubbed
that
has
been
hurt
.
A
child
knocks
itself
and
runs
at
once
to
the
arms
of
its
mother
or
nurse
to
have
the
aching
spot
rubbed
or
kissed
,
and
it
feels
better
when
this
is
done
.
The
child
can
not
believe
that
the
strongest
and
wisest
of
its
people
have
no
remedy
for
its
pain
,
and
the
hope
of
relief
and
the
expression
of
its
mother
's
sympathy
while
she
rubs
the
bump
comforts
it
.
The
doctors
were
of
use
to
Natásha
because
they
kissed
and
rubbed
her
bump
,
assuring
her
that
it
would
soon
pass
if
only
the
coachman
went
to
the
chemist
's
in
the
Arbát
and
got
a
powder
and
some
pills
in
a
pretty
box
for
a
ruble
and
seventy
kopeks
,
and
if
she
took
those
powders
in
boiled
water
at
intervals
of
precisely
two
hours
,
neither
more
nor
less
.
What
would
Sónya
and
the
count
and
countess
have
done
,
how
would
they
have
looked
,
if
nothing
had
been
done
,
if
there
had
not
been
those
pills
to
give
by
the
clock
,
the
warm
drinks
,
the
chicken
cutlets
,
and
all
the
other
details
of
life
ordered
by
the
doctors
,
the
carrying
out
of
which
supplied
an
occupation
and
consolation
to
the
family
circle
?
How
would
the
count
have
borne
his
dearly
loved
daughter
's
illness
had
he
not
known
that
it
was
costing
him
a
thousand
rubles
,
and
that
he
would
not
grudge
thousands
more
to
benefit
her
,
or
had
he
not
known
that
if
her
illness
continued
he
would
not
grudge
yet
other
thousands
and
would
take
her
abroad
for
consultations
there
,
and
had
he
not
been
able
to
explain
the
details
of
how
Métivier
and
Feller
had
not
understood
the
symptoms
,
but
Frise
had
,
and
Múdrov
had
diagnosed
them
even
better
?
What
would
the
countess
have
done
had
she
not
been
able
sometimes
to
scold
the
invalid
for
not
strictly
obeying
the
doctor
's
orders
?
"
You
'll
never
get
well
like
that
,
"
she
would
say
,
forgetting
her
grief
in
her
vexation
,
"
if
you
wo
n't
obey
the
doctor
and
take
your
medicine
at
the
right
time
!
You
must
n't
trifle
with
it
,
you
know
,
or
it
may
turn
to
pneumonia
,
"
she
would
go
on
,
deriving
much
comfort
from
the
utterance
of
that
foreign
word
,
incomprehensible
to
others
as
well
as
to
herself
.
What
would
Sónya
have
done
without
the
glad
consciousness
that
she
had
not
undressed
during
the
first
three
nights
,
in
order
to
be
ready
to
carry
out
all
the
doctor
's
injunctions
with
precision
,
and
that
she
still
kept
awake
at
night
so
as
not
to
miss
the
proper
time
when
the
slightly
harmful
pills
in
the
little
gilt
box
had
to
be
administered
?
Even
to
Natásha
herself
it
was
pleasant
to
see
that
so
many
sacrifices
were
being
made
for
her
sake
,
and
to
know
that
she
had
to
take
medicine
at
certain
hours
,
though
she
declared
that
no
medicine
would
cure
her
and
that
it
was
all
nonsense
.
And
it
was
even
pleasant
to
be
able
to
show
,
by
disregarding
the
orders
,
that
she
did
not
believe
in
medical
treatment
and
did
not
value
her
life
.
The
doctor
came
every
day
,
felt
her
pulse
,
looked
at
her
tongue
,
and
regardless
of
her
grief-stricken
face
joked
with
her
.
But
when
he
had
gone
into
another
room
,
to
which
the
countess
hurriedly
followed
him
,
he
assumed
a
grave
air
and
thoughtfully
shaking
his
head
said
that
though
there
was
danger
,
he
had
hopes
of
the
effect
of
this
last
medicine
and
one
must
wait
and
see
,
that
the
malady
was
chiefly
mental
,
but
...
And
the
countess
,
trying
to
conceal
the
action
from
herself
and
from
him
,
slipped
a
gold
coin
into
his
hand
and
always
returned
to
the
patient
with
a
more
tranquil
mind
.
The
symptoms
of
Natásha
's
illness
were
that
she
ate
little
,
slept
little
,
coughed
,
and
was
always
low-spirited
.
The
doctors
said
that
she
could
not
get
on
without
medical
treatment
,
so
they
kept
her
in
the
stifling
atmosphere
of
the
town
,
and
the
Rostóvs
did
not
move
to
the
country
that
summer
of
1812
In
spite
of
the
many
pills
she
swallowed
and
the
drops
and
powders
out
of
the
little
bottles
and
boxes
of
which
Madame
Schoss
who
was
fond
of
such
things
made
a
large
collection
,
and
in
spite
of
being
deprived
of
the
country
life
to
which
she
was
accustomed
,
youth
prevailed
.
Natásha
's
grief
began
to
be
overlaid
by
the
impressions
of
daily
life
,
it
ceased
to
press
so
painfully
on
her
heart
,
it
gradually
faded
into
the
past
,
and
she
began
to
recover
physically
.
Natásha
was
calmer
but
no
happier
.
She
not
merely
avoided
all
external
forms
of
pleasure
--
balls
,
promenades
,
concerts
,
and
theaters
--
but
she
never
laughed
without
a
sound
of
tears
in
her
laughter
.
She
could
not
sing
.
As
soon
as
she
began
to
laugh
,
or
tried
to
sing
by
herself
,
tears
choked
her
:
tears
of
remorse
,
tears
at
the
recollection
of
those
pure
times
which
could
never
return
,
tears
of
vexation
that
she
should
so
uselessly
have
ruined
her
young
life
which
might
have
been
so
happy
.
Laughter
and
singing
in
particular
seemed
to
her
like
a
blasphemy
,
in
face
of
her
sorrow
.
Without
any
need
of
self-restraint
,
no
wish
to
coquet
ever
entered
her
head
.
She
said
and
felt
at
that
time
that
no
man
was
more
to
her
than
Nastásya
Ivánovna
,
the
buffoon
.
Something
stood
sentinel
within
her
and
forbade
her
every
joy
.
Besides
,
she
had
lost
all
the
old
interests
of
her
carefree
girlish
life
that
had
been
so
full
of
hope
.
The
previous
autumn
,
the
hunting
,
"
Uncle
,
"
and
the
Christmas
holidays
spent
with
Nicholas
at
Otrádnoe
were
what
she
recalled
oftenest
and
most
painfully
.
What
would
she
not
have
given
to
bring
back
even
a
single
day
of
that
time
!
But
it
was
gone
forever
.
Her
presentiment
at
the
time
had
not
deceived
her
--
that
that
state
of
freedom
and
readiness
for
any
enjoyment
would
not
return
again
.
Yet
it
was
necessary
to
live
on
.
It
comforted
her
to
reflect
that
she
was
not
better
as
she
had
formerly
imagined
,
but
worse
,
much
worse
,
than
anybody
else
in
the
world
.
But
this
was
not
enough
.
She
knew
that
,
and
asked
herself
,
"
What
next
?
"
But
there
was
nothing
to
come
.
There
was
no
joy
in
life
,
yet
life
was
passing
.
