"On yourself? Let me see the place. Where is it?"
"There—on that finger. To-day I went to the village whence they brought the typhus patient the other day; and though they tried to conceal the body, I succeeded in discovering it. Not for a long time had I had a chance of doing that sort of work."
"Yes?"
"And the sequel was that I cut myself, and, on repairing to the district physician, found that he did not possess what I wanted."
Vasili Ivanitch went white to the lips. Hurrying, without a word, into his study, he returned thence with some hell-stone. Bazarov was for carrying it away forthwith.
"No, no!" cried Vasili Ivanitch. "For God's sake allow me to see to this in person."
Bazarov smiled.
"You are indeed a keen practitioner," he commented.
"Do not jest, I beg of you. Show me the finger. No, it is not a large wound. Am I hurting it at all?"
"Not in the least. Have no fear. You can press it harder still if you like."