"It shook him up!" remarked the driver. "Oh, whisky, whisky!"
Ivan shifted his feet about with difficulty. His whole body swaying, he walked through the entrance, and said:
"Nothing—comrade, I can get along."
CHAPTER IX
Sofya was already at home when they reached the house. She met the mother with a cigarette in her teeth. She was somewhat ruffled, but, as usual, bold and assured of manner. Putting the wounded man on the sofa, she deftly unbound his head, giving orders and screwing up her eyes from the smoke of her cigarette.
"Ivan Danilovich!" she called out. "He's been brought here. You are tired, Nilovna. You've had enough fright, haven't you? Well, rest now. Nikolay, quick, give Nilovna some tea and a glass of port."
Dizzied by her experience, the mother breathing heavily and feeling a sickly pricking in her breast, said: "Don't bother about me."
But her entire anxious being begged for attention and kindnesses.