"Yies, yies, yies," said the doctor. "Excellent, excellent. Now we are well again. Jist saow. Jist saow." The lieutenant listened and laughed gleefully. He remembered the Finn, the lady with the white teeth, the train, and he wanted to eat and smoke. "Doctor," he said, "tell them to bring me a slice of rye bread and salt, and some sardines...." The doctor refused. Pavel did not obey his order and refused to go for bread. The lieutenant could not bear it and began to cry like a thwarted child. "Ba-by," the doctor laughed. "Mamma! Hush-aby!" Klimov also began to laugh, and when the doctor had gone, he fell sound asleep. He woke up with the same feeling of joy and happiness. His aunt was sitting by his bed. "Oh, aunty!" He was very happy. "What has been the matter with me?" "Typhus." "I say! And now I am well, quite well! Where is Katy?" "She is not at home. She has probably gone to see some one after her examination." The old woman bent over her stocking as she said this; her lips began to tremble; she turned her face away and suddenly began to sob. In her grief, she forgot the doctor's orders and cried: "Oh! Katy! Katy! Our angel is gone from us! She is gone!" She dropped her stocking and stooped down for it, and her cap fell off her head. Klimov stared at her grey hair, could not understand, was alarmed for Katy, and asked: "But where is she, aunty?" The old woman, who had already forgotten Klimov and remembered only her grief, said: "She caught typhus from you and ... and died. She was buried the day before yesterday." This sudden appalling piece of news came home to Klimov's mind, but dreadful and shocking though it was it could not subdue the animal joy which thrilled through the convalescent lieutenant. He cried, laughed, and soon began to complain that he was given nothing to eat. Only a week later, when, supported by Pavel, he walked in a dressing-gown to the window, and saw the grey spring sky and heard the horrible rattle of some old rails being carried by on a lorry, then his heart ached with sorrow and he began to weep and pressed his forehead against the window-frame. "How unhappy I am!" he murmured. "My God, how unhappy I am!" And joy gave way to his habitual weariness and a sense of his irreparable loss. GOOSEBERRIES