“Chère …” His voice failed him and he could not articulate a syllable but simply gazed with eyes wide with horror.
“Who is she?”
“ C’est un ange; c’était plus qu’un ange pour moi. She’s been all night … Oh, don’t shout, don’t frighten her, chère, chère …”
With a loud noise, Varvara Petrovna pushed back her chair, uttering a loud cry of alarm.
“Water, water!”
Though he returned to consciousness, she was still shaking with terror, and, with pale cheeks, looked at his distorted face. It was only then, for the first time, that she guessed the seriousness of his illness.
“Darya,” she whispered suddenly to Darya Pavlovna, “send at once for the doctor, for Salzfish; let Yegorytch go at once. Let him hire horses here and get another carriage from the town. He must be here by night.”
Dasha f
