"Look out! There's the cook coming," cried some one.
"Take care, or he'll cook you something you don't like!" replied a second voice in a vicious tone.
The would-be wit, who is always to be found in a crowd, shouted out, "Just wait; he'll cook a broth for you that won't agree with your stomach!"
The crowd laughed, but it was a mirthless laugh, a mixture of fear and of distrust.
"They don't seem to be afraid of the infection themselves.... That's rather difficult to understand," some one in the crowd remarked, with a meaning look, but in a voice that betrayed hatred. Under the impression of this question the faces in the crowd took on once more threatening expressions, and the conversation fell to low whispers.
"Look, they are bringing him out now!"
"Orloff is carrying him! Just look what a bold fellow he is!"
"It's true, he has plenty of courage."
"What does it matter for a sot like him? What has he to be afraid of?"
"Carefully, carefully, Orloff! Lift his legs higher ... that's right Ate you ready?... Drive on, Peter!" the student ordered. "Tell the doctor I will follow him directly.... I beg of you, Mr. Orloff, to stay here for a time and help me to disinfect the place.... You might take this opportunity of learning what to do in case of necessity some other time. Is it agreed? Yes?"