"Pussycats-sindzher..." - he has called quietly, but the cat has not gone to it - it has sat down on a threshold, and its eyes
have suddenly sparkled, - as always is unexpected and wonderful.
Sister - small, thin, gold ringlets from under a kerchief - has arisen silently, has changed a dropper, has touched wires, and
has then glanced under a cot and has told quietly and with pleasure: "About! It it is good otmochilsja!" "It not he, - has told
Stanislav. Is I well otmochilsja..." Sister at all has not looked at it, it already left away, dexterously having picked up and a
thin dropper and half a full duck, and he has understood that actually has told nothing to it but only thought to tell, but at it it
has not turned out for some reason.
Cats in the doorway any more were not. Impulses ran on the monitor. After sister there was a weak pleasant golden smell -
cleanliness, health, tenderness. And for some reason right now he has understood definitively: all will be a way. Lifting has
come to an end, descent begins. It was not clear only: well it or is bad.
However, the white vile strip between centuries at the Viscount has disappeared. The viscount simply slept now. Also it was
clear that he will wake up.
All has occurred simultaneously.
The viscount has widely opened eyes and has smiled drowsily, and a companion has promptly rushed into a door the
colonel, and still someone with it, some persons, crowd, group, division... The Silent twilight room has become at once noisy
from set of vigorous movements and from hasty breath, and smells have suddenly arisen, strong and is perfect here the
unexpected: tobacco, an onions, strong cologne... All this crowd has instantly surrounded a cot, Stanislav, has made a
stand, all of them were in white dressing gowns, and all of them were military men, and Stanislav has risen, having a
presentiment of the bad. However first anybody on it has not turned attention, as if it here and was not at all.
- Victor Grigorevich, smart guy, well as you, smart guy?! - a companion the colonel has exclaimed, simultaneously quite
professional movements sufficing the Viscount for pulse, turning for inspection a dropper, tightening up something on the
monitor, already seeing that Victor Grigorevich - quite anything to itself, all with it o-kej, and will be fast just as a cucumber.
And all other have begun to make a racket at once in the same sense, and it was visible that they and really are glad all
radehonki that, apparently, has managed, has passed, the glory to you My God, passed their this bowl, and there was
somehow not that that strange, but somehow unexpectedly to see on these persons absolutely nonprofessional civilian
pleasure and ordinary human simplification. (Persons were generally - rigid, military, with such persons - to attack to go, and if
in a white dressing gown - corpses to open, biting off in passing from a sandwich with a cutlet).