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 exactly the same sort of thing that Ivan Il'ich himself had done thousands of times in the same brilliant manner when he had had to do with persons before the Court. The doctor made his resumé just as brilliantly, and triumphantly, nay, even gaily regarded the doomed man over his spectacles. From the doctor's resumé Ivan Il'ich drew the conclusion that he was in a bad way, and that to the doctor, alas! and to everyone else it was all one, but that he, Ivan Il'ich, was certainly in a bad way. And this inference morbidly affected Ivan Il'ich, exciting within him a feeling of great pity for himself, and of great anger against the doctor who could be so indifferent in such an important question.

But he said nothing, but got up, laid his money on the table, and remarked with a sigh: "We sick people, no doubt, often ask you doctors untimely questions, but tell me now, plainly, is this illness dangerous or not ?"

The doctor regarded him severely with one eye through his spectacles, as if he would say: Prisoner at the bar, if you do not keep within the strict limits of regularly prescribed questions, I shall be obliged to take measures for your removal from the Court.

"I have already told you what I considered necessary and befitting," said the doctor. "An examination will show us anything further." And the doctor bowed.

Ivan Il'ich left the house slowly, sat down wearily in his sledge, and went home. All the way there he never ceased pondering over what the doctor had said, trying to translate all those involved, obscure, scientific