"Silence!... You would like to turn this place into a vodka-shop, you scum!... I'll let you know where you are!"
A wild rush of defiance, a passionate desire to rush out and get free from all these confused feelings that oppressed him, suddenly took possession of Grischka. It seemed to him all at once, that by doing something out of the common, something extraordinary, he could tear himself free from the bonds that were fettering his soul. He shuddered, as a pleasant cool feeling seemed to creep round his heart, and going up to the doctor with quiet cat-like tread he said—
"Don't strain your throat, shouting like that! I know very well where I am ... a place where you kill people!"
"What are you talking about?... What was that you said?" exclaimed the doctor in an astonished voice.
Grigori realized that he had made use of a meaningless and insulting expression; but he would not retract it; he grew more excited, and continued—
"Oh! it doesn't matter! You'll soon see what I meant!... Matrona, pack up your traps; we are off!"
"Not so fast, my friend! You must repeat first what you have just said," insisted the doctor in a quiet voice that boded no good. "Come now, speak!... You shall catch it for this, you scoundrel!"
Grischka stared him full in the face—he had a feeling as if he were being carried away by a puff of wind, and as if each breath that he took made him feel lighter.
"Don't shout or swear, Nadrei Stepanovitch!... You think perhaps that because it is cholera time you have a right to order me about.... But you are wrong.... All your cures here are of no use to mankind, they are not worth a brass farthing! No one wants you and your science and your cures!.. Well, if I did call your place a deathtrap it was nonsense perhaps I was talking, ... that I acknowledge ... because I was in a rage. But to shout at me here like that ... you have no right to behave so!"
"You won't get off so easily," said the doctor quietly; "I'll have to teach you a lesson!... Hi there! Come in, you that are outside!"