“He hears the bell, but where it is he cannot tell. Good‐by, we shall meet in Syracuse.”
“Who’s this? Who’s this?” The doctor flew into a terrible rage.
“He is a schoolboy, doctor, he is a mischievous boy; take no notice of him,” said Alyosha, frowning and speaking quickly. “Kolya, hold your tongue!” he cried to Krassotkin. “Take no notice of him, doctor,” he repeated, rather impatiently.
“He wants a thrashing, a good thrashing!” The doctor stamped in a perfect fury.
“And you know, apothecary, my Perezvon might bite!” said Kolya, turning pale, with quivering voice and flashing eyes. “Ici, Perezvon!”
“Kolya, if you say another word, I’ll have nothing more to do with you,” Alyosha cried peremptorily.
“There is only one man in the world who can command Nikolay Krassotkin—this is the man”; Kolya pointed to Alyosha. “I obey him, good‐ by!”
He stepped forward, opened the door, and quickly went into the inner room. Perezvon flew after him. The doctor stood still for five seconds in amazement, looking at Alyosha; then, with a curse, he went out quickly to the carriage, repeating aloud, “This is ... this is ... I don’t know what it is!” The captain darted forward to help him into the carriage. Alyosha followed Kolya into the room. He was already by Ilusha’s bedside. The sick boy was holding his hand and calling for his father. A minute later the captain, too, came back.
“Father, father, come ... we ...” Ilusha faltered in violent excitement, but apparently unable to go on, he flung his wasted arms round his father and Kolya, uniting them in one embrace, and hugging them as tightly as he could. The captain suddenly began to shake with dumb sobs, and Kolya’s lips and chin twitched.
“Father, father! How sorry I am for you!” Ilusha moaned bitterly.