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Chapter 2. Continued
Two in the morning. The room was twilight, and the silence, which was especially unbearable, was periodically interrupted by questions and short answers.
Vladimir and Sophie, who looked at each other excitedly, listened to the remarks of the doctor, Dmitry and sometimes Anastasia.
The girl did everything that the doctor told her, and her faithful husband helped her to get up, sit down or lie down.
So submissive she was rarely seen, but apparently she understood that now she needed help, like no one else at the moment.
- Temperature 38.9. The pulse exceeds the norm, but slightly. - the doctor muttered short conclusions, feeling a finger on the thin hand of Anastasia’s hand and checking the clock.
- Nothing hurts you, madam? - Anya shook her head too uncertainly, which caused the elderly doctor to frown, but he did not begin to pressure and arrange interrogations.
Still, the country is tolerant, if he would hurt her feelings, or she would be angry.
Nonsense, of course, but the French people are very neat in terms of relations with others, so he was even afraid of such nonsense.
- Maybe your body comes to life after giving birth. Still, for him it was a lot of stress, so you only need to recover. - he concluded, scribbling something on a slightly darkened piece of paper.
Finally, putting an end to it, the doctor confidently handed it to Dmitry and stood up.
- Here, drink it. Everything will be normal if you use these drugs on schedule. I wrote and explained everything to you there.
And now, gentlemen, good night. He went to the exit, Sophie hurried after him to conduct a respected to the exit, chattering something about gratitude and complexity of childbirth.
Vladimir stayed with Dmitry and Anastasia, looking sadly at the poor young man, who was completely lost.
A distrust of the doctor and, moreover, his diagnosis, was read in his face.
The man watched the young man pull his smile and go to his wife, saying something like:
"Well, you were right, Your Grace."
Poor Anna, very weak and, despite the temperature, white, like the sheets on which she lay, grinned, feeling her victory.
But even Vladimir did not believe the doctor, he saw everything from the side, and anxiety crept in his heart.
Then what did Dmitry himself feel now? Probably the same, but only three times stronger.
- My boy, let’s let our princess rest. - he said gently, addressing the young man.
- You're right. - he agreed with him, kissing the back of Anastasia's palm. - Good night, rest.
- I want to see Katyusha. - the girl said weakly, looking after the departing husband.
- Let's not wake her. She sleeps so sweetly. - the young man answered her softly and, looking tenderly at her, closed the door to her room.
They both walked to their bedrooms slowly. Vladimir noticed the trembling hands of his young friend.
He felt terribly sorry for him, and he laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Dmitry ...” the man began to speak, but he interrupted him.
- Get out. You know her. the young man told him, trying to make his voice as confident as possible. But he did not believe in it. Wanted, but could not. Just as he could not get Anya to tell him the whole truth about her feelings. With heavy hearts they parted.
Dmitry fell asleep only in the morning, but lack of sleep did not give him a reason to look exhausted and tired.
All for her, for Anastasia.
... to be continued...
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