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 ight-stool without strength enough to draw up his pantaloons, he had sunk into a soft chair, and gazed with horror upon his exposed impotent calves, with their sharply defined muscles.

At that moment Gerasim entered in thick boots, distributing around him a pleasant smell of tar from his boots and of fresh winter air, walking with a light, strong step in a clean linen blouse and a clean cotton shirt, with his sleeves turned up over his naked, strong young arms, and not looking at Ivan Il'ich, and visibly restraining, so as not to offend the invalid, his sensation of the joy of life which was beaming in his face, went towards the close-stool.

"Gerasim!" said Ivan Il'ich feebly.

Gerasim trembled, evidently fearing lest he might have committed some blunder or other, and with a quick movement turned towards the invalid his fresh, good, simple young face, on which a beard was just beginning to sprout

"What do you want, sir?"

"I am afraid this is an unpleasant job for you. Forgive me, I cannot help it."

"Lord, help us!" cried Gerasim with sparkling eyes, and showing his young, white teeth as he smiled; "why shouldn't I do this little job? You are so bad, sir."

And with his strong, skilful arms he performed his usual office, and went out with a light step. And in five minutes he came back again, stepping just as lightly as before.

Ivan Il'ich was still sitting in the chair.

"Gerasim," said he, when the latter had replaced