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- Стр. 917/1273
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"
We
do
n't
expect
to
get
him
home
!
We
must
ask
the
doctor
.
"
And
the
old
servant
got
down
from
the
box
and
went
up
to
the
cart
.
"
All
right
!
"
said
the
doctor
.
The
old
servant
returned
to
the
calèche
,
looked
into
it
,
shook
his
head
disconsolately
,
told
the
driver
to
turn
into
the
yard
,
and
stopped
beside
Mávra
Kuzmínichna
.
"
O
,
Lord
Jesus
Christ
!
"
she
murmured
.
She
invited
them
to
take
the
wounded
man
into
the
house
.
"
The
masters
wo
n't
object
...
"
she
said
.
But
they
had
to
avoid
carrying
the
man
upstairs
,
and
so
they
took
him
into
the
wing
and
put
him
in
the
room
that
had
been
Madame
Schoss
'
.
This
wounded
man
was
Prince
Andrew
Bolkónski
.
Moscow
's
last
day
had
come
.
It
was
a
clear
bright
autumn
day
,
a
Sunday
.
The
church
bells
everywhere
were
ringing
for
service
,
just
as
usual
on
Sundays
.
Nobody
seemed
yet
to
realize
what
awaited
the
city
.
