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Early in June it happened that Agafea Mihalovna, the old nurse

and housekeeper, in carrying to the cellar a jar of mushrooms she

had just pickled, slipped, fell, and sprained her wrist. The

district doctor, a talkative young medical student, who had just

finished his studies, came to see her. He examined the wrist,

said it was not broken, was delighted at a chance of talking to

the celebrated Sergey Ivanovitch Koznishev, and to show his

advanced views of things told him all the scandal of the

district, complaining of the poor state into which the district

council had fallen. Sergey Ivanovitch listened attentively, asked

him questions, and, roused by a new listener, he talked fluently,

uttered a few keen and weighty observations, respectfully

appreciated by the young doctor, and was soon in that eager frame

of mind his brother knew so well, which always, with him,

followed a brilliant and eager conversation.