Berezovo: A Revolutionary Russian Epic

Satisfied that he had located the injury, Chevanin motioned him to lower his arm and began probing the man’s shoulder, guided by the man’s grunts of pain. Once he was certain that his diagnosis was correct (a fractured left clavicle) he told the man to dress. By the time he had prepared a sling for the man and had taken his seventy-five copecks, the hands on the clock were pointing to a quarter to twelve. Knowing that it would take him at least another twenty minutes to close up, sweep the surgery and lock everything away, Chevanin decided that Goat’s Foot’s wife would have to wait. He would visit her after calling at Ostermann Street. If he were lucky, he might even have an opportunity to make a proper apology to Yeliena Mihailovna and so finally absolve himself of his offence.

But when he arrived at the Tortsovs’ house in Ostermann Street at almost half past twelve, one glance at the maid’s agitated features told him something was wrong. Red from crying, Katya’s eyes were more than usually distended, her cheeks the colour of uncooked pastry. Pushing past her, he made straight for the sitting room but it was empty. Through the ceiling he could hear the quick movements of footsteps and the heavy creak of furniture as drawers were pulled open and closed.

His earlier fears now returned with a rush. Yeliena Mihailovna had told her husband after all. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than he dismissed it. If his employer had been looking for him they could hardly have missed each other between Ostermann Street and the surgery. A host of other reasons to account for the atmosphere of crisis hanging in the air immediately sprang to mind. The Doctor had had a stroke. He had been arrested (with Colonel Izorov anything was possible). Yeliena Mihailovna had received bad news…

He turned to face the distraught maid who had followed him into the room. But, before he could speak, a particularly loud thump above their heads made both of them raise their eyes to the ceiling.

“Katya?” Madame Tortsova called down.

Guiltily, the maid ran out of the room and stood at the foot of the staircase.

“Yes, mum?” she called out.

“Who was that at the door just now?”

“Anton Ivanovich Chevanin, mum.”

“Is he still there?”

“Yes, mum.”

Anton Ivanovich started to move towards the door but with one outstretched palm Katya motioned silently for him to remain where he was.

“Tell Anton Ivanovich I cannot see him now. Give him my apologies, but I must not be disturbed.”

“But mum…”

“Do as you are told, Katya!”

Helplessly the maid turned to face him. Chevanin beckoned her to return to the sitting room and to close the door behind her. Once she had done so he took her trembling hands and led her over to the sofa.

“What on earth is the matter, Katya?” he whispered urgently. “What has happened here? Where is the Doctor?”

His questions only made the girl begin crying again. He had to offer her his handkerchief and wait until her tears had ceased before he could make sense of what she had to tell him.

“The Doctor’s gone to the hospital, sir, and Madam is upstairs packing her travelling case.”

“I know about the hospital,” he assured her, “but why is your mistress packing her case?”

“I don’t know!” wailed Katya.

She began to cry again. Chevanin squeezed her hand gently.

“Tell me everything that has happened.”

“I don’t know,” she repeated, shaking her head helplessly. “I went to the market to do the shopping this morning and when I came back they were shouting at each other. They were saying terrible things, sir,” she added, her eyes opening wide. “Terrible!”

“What time was this, exactly?”

“At about nine o clock,” the maid said with a sniff.

Just the time when I was waiting for him at the surgery, he thought.

“What sort of things did they say? Try to remember.”

“Just things,” she told him. “The Doctor said that he did not have time to argue with her… with Madame… and that she was not to be so stupid and that he had genuinely sick people to look after…”

“The Doctor called Madame Tortsova stupid?”

“Yes, Anton Ivanovich! And then she said that he was the stupid one if he expected her to be here when he returned and…”

Katya voice broke again as the tears returned.

Chevanin put a consoling arm around her and waited until her sobbing had stopped.

“And then,” she continued, “he said that he could not care less what she did as long as she didn’t bother him any more. Then the Doctor left and Madame started to cry and ran upstairs to her room. Then, about half an hour ago, the doctor sent a message to say that he wouldn’t be home for lunch and that he had gone to the hospital. I told Madame and she ordered me to fetch her travelling case down from the attic and started to pack her things.”

With fresh tears streaming from her eyes, Katya looked imploringly into Chevanin’s face.