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Artzybashev, Mikhail Petrovich, 1878-1927

"Sanine"

..?"
Sina wanted to ask: "Is he really going to die very soon?" but the
words stuck in her throat, and she plied Dubova with fatuous and
incoherent questions.
"Anatole Pavlovitch says that he will die to-night or to-morrow
morning," replied Dubova, in a dull voice.
"Shall we go to him?" whispered Sina. "Or do you think that we had
better not? I don't know."
This was the question uppermost in the minds of them all. Should they
go and see Semenoff die? Was it a right or wrong thing to do? They all
wanted to go, and yet were fearful of what they should see. Yourii
shrugged his shoulders.
"Let us go," he said. "Very likely they won't admit us, and perhaps,
too--"
"Perhaps he might wish to see some one," added Dubova, as if relieved.
"Come on! We'll go!" said Sina with decision.
"Schafroff and Novikoff are there," added Dubova, as if to justify
herself.
Sina ran indoors to fetch her hat and coat, and then they went sadly
through the town to the large, grey, three-storied building, the
hospital where Semenoff lay dying.
The long, vaulted passages were dark, and smelt strongly of iodoform
and carbolic.


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