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 it did not come. The door opened, and Kitty came in. He got up to stop her, but instantly heard the dying man move.

"Don't go away!" said Nikolaï, stretching out his hand. Levin took it, and angrily motioned his wife away.

Still holding the dying man's hand, he waited a half-hour—an hour—and still another hour. He ceased to think of death; he thought what Kitty was doing. Who was occupying the next room? Had the doctor a house of his own? Then he became hungry and sleepy. He gently let go the dying man's hand and felt of his feet. His feet and legs were cold; but still Nikolaï was breathing. Levin started to go away on his tiptoes; but again the invalid stirred, and said, "Don't go away!"

It began to grow light; the situation was unchanged. Levin gently rose, and without looking at his brother went to his room, and fell asleep. When he awoke, instead of hearing of his brother's death as he expected, he was told that he had come to his senses again. He was sitting up in bed, was coughing, and wanted something to eat. He became talkative, but ceased to talk about death, and once more began to express the hope of getting well again, and was more irritable and restless than before. No one, not even his brother or Kitty, could calm him. He was angry with them all, and said disagreeable things, and blamed every one for his sufferings, demanding that the famous doctor from Moscow should be sent for; and whenever they asked him how he was, he replied with expressions of anger and reproach, "I am suffering terrible, unendurable agony."

He suffered more and more, especially from his bed-sores, which they were wholly unable to heal, and his irritability kept increasing, and he reproached them all bitterly, especially because they did not fetch the doctor from Moscow. Kitty tried every means in her power to help him, to calm him; but it was all in vain, and