“Give me your wrist,” said the doctor. He closed his eyes and felt the patient’s pulse. “And have you a cough?” he inquired. “Yes--at night-time, but more especially while I am at supper.” “Hm! And does your heart throb at all, or your head ache?” He then added other questions, bowed his bald pate, and subsided into profound meditation. At length he straightened himself with a jerk, and said with an air of decision-- “Two or three years more, of this room, of lying about, of eating rich, heavy foods, and you will have a stroke.” Oblomov started. “Then what ought I to do, doctor? Tell me, for Heaven’s sake!” “Merely what other people do--namely, go abroad.” “Pardon me, doctor, but how am I to do that?” “Why should you not? Does money prevent you, or what?” “Yes, yes; money is the reason,” replied Oblomov, gladly catching at the excuse, which was the most natural one that could possibly have been devised. “See here--just read what my _slarosta_ writes.” “Quite so, but that is no business of mine,” said the doctor. “_My_ business is to inform you that you must change your mode of life, and also your place of residence. You must have fresh air--you must have something to do. Go to Kissingen or to Ems, and remain there during June and July, whilst you drink the waters. Then go on to Switzerland, or to the Tyrol, and partake of the local grape cure. That you can do during September and October.” “Oh the devil take the Tyrol!” murmured Oblomov under his breath. “Next, transfer yourself to some dry place like Egypt, and put away from you all cares and worries.” “Excellent!” said Oblomov. “I only wish that _starostas_’ letters like this one reached you!” “Also you must do no thinking whatsoever.” “No thinking, you say?” “Yes--you must impose upon the brain no exertion.” “But what about my plans for my estate? I am not a log, if you will pardon my saying so.” “Oh, very well. I have merely been warning you. Likewise, you must avoid emotion of every kind, for that sort of thing is sure to militate against a successful cure. Try, rather, to divert yourself with riding, with dancing, with moderate exercise in the open air, and with pleasant conversation--more especially conversation with the opposite sex. These things are designed to make your heart beat more lightly, and to experience none but agreeable emotions. Again, you must lay aside all reading and writing. Rent a villa which faces south and lies embowered in flowers, and surround yourself also with an atmosphere of music and women.” “And may I eat at all?” “Yes, certainly; but avoid all animal and farinaceous food, as well as anything which may be served cold. Eat only light soups and vegetables. Even in _this_ great care will need to be exercised, for cholera, I may tell you, is about. Walk eight hours out of every twenty-four; go in for shooting.” “Good Lord!” groaned Oblomov.