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What is a goat's leg from the story surgery. Analysis of Chekhov's work “Surgery”

Zemsky hospital. In the absence of the doctor, who has left to get married, the patients are received by paramedic Kuryatin, fat man about forty years old, in a worn Chechunchka jacket and frayed jersey trousers. There is an expression of duty and pleasantness on the face. Between the index and middle fingers of the left hand is a cigar, spreading a stench.
The sexton Vonmiglasov, a tall, stocky old man in a brown cassock and a wide leather belt, enters the reception room. The right eye has a cataract and is half-closed; there is a wart on the nose, which from a distance looks like a large fly. For a second the sexton looks for the icon with his eyes and, not finding one, crosses himself over a bottle of carbolic solution, then takes out a prosphora from a red handkerchief and places it with a bow in front of the paramedic.
- A-ah-ah... mine is for you! - the paramedic yawns. - What did you come with?
- Happy Sunday to you, Sergey Kuzmich... To your mercy... Truly and truly the psalter says, excuse me: “Dissolve my drink with crying.” The other day I sat down with an old woman to drink tea and - my God, not a drop, not a blue powder, even lie down and die... If you take a little bread, my strength is gone! And besides what’s in the tooth itself, but also this whole side... It hurts, it hurts! Excuse me, it feels like it’s in your ear, as if there’s a nail or some other object in it: it just shoots, just like that! I have sinned and been lawless... I have scorched my soul with cold sins and spent my life in laziness... For sins, Sergei Kuzmich, for sins! After the liturgy, the father priest reproaches: “You are tongue-tied, Efim, and you have become a gibberish man. You eat, and you won’t understand anything.” And what kind of singing is there, judge, if you can’t open your mouth, everything is swollen, excuse me, and you haven’t slept all night...
- Hmmm... Sit down... Open your mouth!
Vonmiglasov sits down and opens his mouth.
Kuryatin frowns, looks into his mouth and among the teeth yellowed by time and tobacco sees one tooth decorated with a gaping hollow.
– Father Deacon told me to use vodka and horseradish – it didn’t help. Glykeria Anisimovna, God bless them, they gave them a string to wear on their hands from Mount Athos and told them to rinse their teeth with warm milk, but I must admit, I put the string on, but didn’t follow the rules regarding milk: I fear God, fasting...
– Prejudice... (pause). You need to tear him out, Efim Mikheich!
– You know better, Sergei Kuzmich. That’s what you are trained for, to understand this matter as it is, what to pull out, and what in drops or other things... That’s what you, benefactors, are assigned to, God grant you health, so that we will be for you day and night, dear fathers ... to the grave of life...
“No big deal...” the paramedic says modestly, going to the cabinet and rummaging through the instruments. - Surgery is a trifle... It’s all about habit, firmness of hand... Just a piece of cake... The other day, just like you, the landowner Alexander Ivanovich of Egypt came to the hospital... Also with a tooth... An educated man, about asks everyone questions, enters into everything, how and what. He shakes hands by name and patronymic... He lived in St. Petersburg for seven years, smelled all the professors... We've been here for a long time... He prays to Christ God: snatch him out for me, Sergei Kuzmich! Why not pull it out? You can pull it out. Only here you need to understand, you can’t do without a concept... There are different teeth. You tear one with tongs, another with a goat's leg, the third with a key... It depends on you.
The paramedic takes the goat leg, looks at it questioningly for a minute, then puts it down and takes the tongs.
“Well, open your mouth wider...” he says, approaching the sexton with tongs. - Now we... that's it... Just a piece of cake... Just trim the gums... apply traction according vertical axis... and that's all... (cuts the gum) and that's all...
- You are our benefactors... We, fools, have no idea, but the Lord has enlightened you...
- Don’t argue if your mouth is open... This one is easy to tear, but sometimes it’s just the roots... This one is a piece of cake... (puts tongs on). Wait, don't twitch... Sit still... In the blink of an eye... (does traction). The main thing is to take it deeper (pulls)... so that the crown doesn’t break...
- Our fathers... Holy Mother... Vvv...
- Not the same... not the same... what's his name? Don't grab with your hands! Put your hands down! (pulls). Now... Here, here... This is not an easy matter...
- Fathers... guardians... (screams). Angels! Whoa... Just pull it, pull it! Why are you waiting five years?
- It’s just a matter... surgery... You can’t do it right away... Here, here...
Vonmiglasov raises his knees to his elbows, moves his fingers, bulges his eyes, breathes intermittently... Sweat appears on his purple face, tears in his eyes. Kuryatin sniffles, stomps in front of the sexton and pulls... The most painful half a minute passes - and the forceps are torn from the tooth.
The sexton jumps up and puts his fingers in his mouth. In his mouth he feels the tooth in its old place.
- He pulled! - he says in a tearful and at the same time mocking voice. - May you be so drawn to the next world! Thank you very much! If you don’t know how to tear, don’t try it! I don't see God's light...
- Why are you grabbing with your hands? - the paramedic gets angry. - I’m pulling, and you’re pushing me under the arm and saying all sorts of stupid words.... Stupid!
- You yourself are a fool!
- Do you think, man, it’s easy to pull a tooth? Take it! It’s not like he climbed up the bell tower and banged on the bells! (teases). “You can’t, you can’t!” Tell me which pointer you found! Look... You tore at Mr. Egyptian, Alexander Ivanovich, and he didn’t say anything, no words... A man cleaner than you, and he didn’t grab him with his hands... Sit down! Sit down, I tell you!
– I don’t see the light... Let me catch my breath... Oh! (sits down). Don’t just drag it out too long, just pull it. Don't pull, but pull... Immediately!
- Teach a scientist! What, my God, uneducated people! Live with these... you'll go crazy! Open your mouth... (puts on forceps). Surgery, brother, is not a joke... This is not to read in the choir... (does traction). Don’t twitch... The tooth, it turns out, is old, has taken deep roots... (pulls). Don't move... Well... well... Don't move... Well, well... (a crunching sound is heard). I knew it!
Vonmiglasov sits motionless for a minute, as if unconscious. He is stunned... His eyes look blankly into space, there is sweat on his pale face.
“It would be a goat’s leg for me...” mutters the paramedic. - What an opportunity!
Having come to his senses, the sexton puts his fingers into his mouth and finds two protruding protrusions in place of the sore tooth.
“You lousy devil...” he says. - They planted you here, Herods, to our destruction!
“Swear at me again here...” mutters the paramedic, putting the tongs in the cupboard. - Ignorant... Few of you were treated to birch in the bursa... Mr. Egyptian, Alexander Ivanovich, lived in St. Petersburg for seven years... education... one suit costs a hundred rubles... and even then you didn’t swear... And you what kind of peahen is this? It’s okay for you, you won’t die!
The sexton takes his prosphora from the table and, holding his cheek with his hand, goes home...
1884
Source: Chekhov A.P. Surgery // Chekhov A.P. Complete works and letters: In 30 volumes. Works: In 18 volumes - Vol. 3. [Stories. Humoresque. “Drama on the Hunt”], 1884–1885. – 1975. – P. 40–43.

THICK AND THIN

At the Nikolaevskaya railway station, two friends met: one fat, the other thin. The fat man had just had lunch at the station, and his lips, coated with oil, were shiny like ripe cherries. He smelled of sherry and fleur-d'orange. The thin one had just gotten out of the carriage and was laden with suitcases, bundles and cardboard boxes. He smelled of ham and coffee grounds. Peeking out from behind him was a thin woman with a long chin - his wife, and a tall high school student with a squinted eye - his son.

- Porfiry! - the fat one exclaimed when he saw the thin one. - Is that you? My darling! How many winters, how many years!

- Fathers! – the thin one was amazed. - Misha! Childhood friend! Where did you come from?

The friends kissed each other three times and looked at each other with eyes full of tears. Both were pleasantly stunned.

- My dear! – the thin one began after kissing. - I didn’t expect it! What a surprise! Well, take a good look at me! Just as handsome as he was! Such a soul and a dandy! Oh, my God! Well, what are you doing? Rich? Married? I’m already married, as you can see... This is my wife, Louise, nee Vanzenbach... Lutheran... And this is my son, Nathanael, a 3rd grade student. This is Nafanya, my childhood friend! We studied together at the gymnasium!

Nathanael thought for a moment and took off his hat.

– We studied together at the gymnasium! – the thin one continued. – Do you remember how they teased you? They teased you as Herostratus because you burned a government book with a cigarette, and they teased me as Ephialtes because I loved to tell lies. Ho-ho... We were children! Don't be afraid, Nafanya! Come closer to him... And this is my wife, née Vanzenbach... a Lutheran.

Nathanael thought for a moment and hid behind his father.

- Well, how are you doing, friend? – asked the fat man, looking at his friend enthusiastically. - Where do you serve? Have you achieved the rank?

“No, my dear, lift it higher,” said the fat man. - I have already risen to the rank of secret... I have two stars.

The thin one suddenly turned pale and petrified, but soon his face twisted in all directions with a broad smile; it seemed as if sparks were falling from his face and eyes. He himself shrank, hunched over, narrowed... His suitcases, bundles and cardboard boxes shrank, wrinkled... His wife's long chin became even longer; Nathanael stood tall and fastened all the buttons of his uniform...

- I, Your Excellency... It’s a pleasure, sir! A friend, one might say, from childhood and suddenly became such a nobleman, sir! Hee hee sir.

- Well, that's enough! – the fat man winced. -What is this tone for? You and I are childhood friends - and why this respect for rank?

“For mercy’s sake... What are you...?” the thin one giggled, shrinking even more. - Your Excellency's gracious attention... seems like life-giving moisture... This, your Excellency, is my son Nathanael... wife Louise, a Lutheran, in some way...

The fat one wanted to object something, but the thin one had so much reverence, sweetness and respectful acid written on his face that the Privy Councilor vomited. He turned away from the thin one and offered him his hand in farewell.

The thin one shook three fingers, bowed with his whole body and chuckled like a Chinese: “hee-hee-hee.” The wife smiled. Nathanael shuffled his foot and dropped his cap. All three were pleasantly stunned.
1883.
Source: Chekhov A.P. Complete works and letters: In 30 volumes. Works: In 18 volumes / USSR Academy of Sciences. Institute of World Lit. them. A. M. Gorky. – M.: Nauka, 1974–1982. T. 2. [Stories, humoresques], 1883–1984. – M.: Nauka, 1975. – P. 579–580.

JOY

It was twelve o'clock at night.

Mitya Kuldarov, excited and disheveled, rushed into his parents’ apartment and quickly walked through all the rooms. The parents had already gone to bed. My sister lay in bed and finished reading the last page of the novel. The high school brothers were sleeping.

Where are you from? - the parents were surprised. - What's wrong with you?

Oh, don't ask! I never expected it! No, I never expected it! This... this is even incredible!

Mitya laughed and sat down in a chair, unable to stand on his feet with happiness.

This is incredible! You can't imagine! Look!

The sister jumped out of bed and, throwing a blanket over herself, went up to her brother. The high school students woke up.

What's wrong with you? You have no face!

It's me with joy, mom! After all, now all of Russia knows me! All! Previously, only you alone knew that the collegiate registrar Dmitry Kuldarov existed in this world, but now all of Russia knows about it! Mother! Oh my God!

Mitya jumped up, ran around all the rooms and sat down again.

What happened? Speak clearly!

You live like wild animals, you don’t read newspapers, you don’t pay any attention to publicity, but there are so many wonderful things in newspapers! If anything happens, everything is known now, nothing can be hidden! How happy I am! Oh my God! After all, only about famous people They publish it in the newspapers, but then they published it about me!

What you? Where?

Papa turned pale. Mother looked at the image and crossed herself. The schoolchildren jumped up and, as they were, in only short nightgowns, approached their older brother.

Yes, sir! They published about me! Now all of Russia knows about me! You, mother, hide this number as a souvenir! Let's read sometimes! Look!

Mitya pulled out a copy of the newspaper from his pocket, handed it to his father and pointed his finger at the place circled with a blue pencil.

Read!

Father put on his glasses.

Read it!

Mother looked at the image and crossed herself. Dad coughed and began to read:

Collegiate registrar Dmitry Kuldarov, leaving the porterhouse on Malaya Bronnaya, in Kozikhin’s house, and being in a drunken state...

This is me and Semyon Petrovich... Everything is described down to the subtleties! Carry on! Further! Listen!

While in a drunken state, he slipped and fell under the horse of a cab driver standing there, a peasant from the village of Durykina, Yukhnovsky district, Ivan Drotov. The frightened horse, stepping over Kuldarov and dragging through him the sleigh with the Moscow merchant Stepan Lukov of the second guild in it, rushed down the street and was detained by the street cleaners. Kuldarov, initially in an unconscious state, was taken to the police station and examined by a doctor. The blow he received to the back of the head...

Which he received on the back of the head is classified as light. A report has been drawn up about the incident. The victim received medical assistance..."

They ordered the back of my head cold water soak. Have you read it now? A? That's it! Now it has spread all over Russia! Give it here!

Mitya grabbed the newspaper, folded it and put it in his pocket.

I’ll run to the Makarovs, I’ll show them... I also need to show the Ivanitskys, Natalia Ivanovna, Anisim Vasilich... I’ll run! Farewell!

Mitya put on a cap with a cockade and, triumphant and joyful, ran out into the street.
1882
Source: Chekhov A.P. Joy // Chekhov A.P. Complete works and letters: In 30 volumes. Works: In 18 volumes / USSR Academy of Sciences. Institute of World Lit. them. A. M. Gorky. - M.: Science, 1974-1982. T. 2. [Stories. Humoresque], 1883-1884. - M.: Nauka, 1975. - P. 12-13.

Retired Major General Buldeev had a toothache. He rinsed his mouth with vodka, cognac, applied tobacco soot, opium, turpentine, kerosene to the sore tooth, smeared his cheek with iodine, and had cotton wool soaked in alcohol in his ears, but all this either did not help or caused nausea. The doctor arrived. He picked the tooth and prescribed quinine, but that didn’t help either. The general refused the offer to pull out a bad tooth. All the household - wife, children, servants, even the cook Petka, each offered their own remedy. By the way, Buldeev’s clerk Ivan Evseich came to him and advised him to undergo treatment with a conspiracy.

“Here, in our district, Your Excellency,” he said, “ten years ago, excise officer Yakov Vasilich served.” He spoke with his teeth - first class. It happened that he would turn to the window, whisper, spit - and as if with his hand! He has been given such strength...

-Where is he now?

“And after he was fired from the excise department, he lives with his mother-in-law in Saratov.” Now he only feeds with his teeth. If a person has a toothache, then they go to him, he helps... He uses people from Saratov at his home, and if they are from other cities, then by telegraph. Send him, Your Excellency, a dispatch that this is how it is... the servant of God Alexy has a toothache, please use it. And you will send money for treatment by mail.

- Nonsense! Quackery!

- Try it, Your Excellency. He is very fond of vodka, lives not with his wife, but with a German woman, a scolder, but, one might say, a miraculous gentleman.

- Let's go, Alyosha! – the general’s wife begged. You don’t believe in conspiracies, but I experienced it myself. Although you don’t believe it, why not send it? Your hands won't fall off because of this.

“Well, okay,” Buldeev agreed. - Here you’ll not only send a dispatch to the action office, but also send a dispatch to hell... Oh! No urine! Well, where does your excise man live? How to write to him?

The general sat down at the table and took the pen in his hands.

“Every dog in Saratov knows him,” said the clerk. - Please write, Your Excellency, to the city of Saratov, therefore... His Honor Mr. Yakov Vasilich... Vasilich...

- Vasilich... Yakov Vasilich... and by last name And I forgot his last name!.. Vasilich... Damn... What's his last name? I remembered how I walked here just now... Excuse me...

Ivan Yevseich raised his eyes to the ceiling and moved his lips. Buldeev and the general's wife waited impatiently.

- Well then? Think quickly!

- Now... Vasilich... Yakov Vasilich... I forgot! Such a simple surname... like a horse... Kobylin? No, not Kobylin. Wait... Are there any stallions? No, and not Zherebtsov. I remember the last name is a horse, but I lost my mind which one...

- Foal breeders?

- No way. Wait... Kobylitsin... Kobylyatnikov... Kobelev...

- This is a dog's, not a horse's. Stallions?

- No, and not Zherebchikov... Loshadinin... Loshakov... Zherebkin... It’s not the same!

- Well, how am I going to write to him? Just think!

- Now. Loshadkin... Kobylkin... Root...

- Korennikov? – asked the general’s wife.

- No way. Pristyazhkin... No, that’s not it! Forgot!

- So why the hell are you bothering with advice if you forgot? – the general got angry. - Get out of here!

Ivan Yevseich slowly left, and the general grabbed his cheek and walked through the rooms.

- Oh, fathers! - he yelled. - Oh, mothers! Oh, I don’t see white light!

The clerk went out into the garden and, raising his eyes to the sky, began to recall the name of the excise man:

– Zherebchikov... Zherebkovsky... Zherebenko... No, that’s not it! Loshadinsky... Loshadevich... Zherebkovich... Kobylyansky...

A little later he was called to the gentlemen.

- Do you remember? – asked the general.

- No, your Excellency.

– Maybe Konyavsky? Horse people? No?

And in the house, everyone vying with each other, they began to invent surnames. We went through all the ages, sexes and breeds of horses, remembered the mane, hooves, harness... In the house, in the garden, in the servants' room and kitchen, people walked from corner to corner and, scratching their foreheads, looked for a surname...

The clerk was constantly required into the house.

- Tabunov? - they asked him. - Kopytin? Zherebovsky?

“No way,” answered Ivan Evechi and, raising his eyes, continued to think out loud. - Konenko... Konchenko... Zherebeev... Kobyleev...

- Dad! - they shouted from the nursery. - Troykin! Uzdechkin!

The whole estate was excited. The impatient, tortured general promised to give five rubles to anyone who remembered his real name, and whole crowds began to follow Ivan Yevseich...

- Gnedov! - they told him. - Trotter! Loshaditsky!

But evening came, and the name was still not found. So they went to bed without sending a telegram.

The general did not sleep all night, walked from corner to corner and moaned... At three o'clock in the morning he left the house and knocked on the clerk's window.

- Isn’t it Merinov? – he asked in a crying voice.

“No, not Merinov, your Excellency,” Ivan Yevseich answered and sighed guiltily.

- Yes, maybe the surname is not horse, but some other!

– Truly, your Excellency, a horse... I remember this very well.

- What a memoryless brother you are... For me now this surname is more valuable, it seems, than anything in the world. I'm exhausted!

In the morning the general again sent for the doctor.

- Let him vomit! - he decided. - I have no more strength to endure...

The doctor arrived and pulled out the bad tooth. The pain subsided immediately, and the general calmed down. Having done his job and received what he deserved for his work, the doctor got into his chaise and drove home. Outside the gate in the field he met Ivan Yevseich... The clerk stood on the edge of the road and, looking intently at his feet, was thinking about something. Judging by the wrinkles that furrowed his forehead and the expression of his eyes, his thoughts were intense, painful...

“Bulanov... Cheresedelnikov...” he muttered. - Zasuponin... Horse...

- Ivan Yevseich! - the doctor turned to him. “Can I, my dear, buy about five quarters of oats from you?” Our peasants sell me oats, but they are too bad...

Ivan Yevseich looked blankly at the doctor, smiled somehow wildly and, without saying a single word in response, clasped his hands and ran towards the estate as quickly as if a mad dog was chasing him.

- I thought of it, Your Excellency! – he shouted joyfully, not in his own voice, flying into the general’s office. - I thought of it, God bless the doctor! Oats! Ovsov is the name of the excise man! Ovsov, Your Excellency! Send a dispatch to Ovsov!

- I messed up! - said the general with contempt and raised two cookies to his face. “I don’t need your horse’s name now!” I messed up!

Surgery

- Ahh... mine is for you! - the paramedic yawns. - What did you come with?

- Happy Sunday to you, Sergei Kuzmich... To your mercy... Truly and truly the psalter says, excuse me: “Dissolve my drink with crying.” The other day I sat down to drink tea with an old woman and - my God, not a drop, not a drop of blue, even if you lie down and die... You take a little sip and my strength is gone! And besides what’s in the tooth itself, but also this whole side... It hurts, it hurts! Excuse me, it feels like it’s in your ear, as if there’s a nail or some other object in it: it just shoots, just like that! I have sinned and been lawless... I have scorched my soul with cold sins and spent my life in laziness... For sins, Sergei Kuzmich, for sins! After the liturgy, Father Priest reproaches: “You are tongue-tied, Efim, and you have become a bastard. You sing, and you won’t understand anything.” And what kind of singing is there, judge, if you can’t open your mouth, everyone is swollen, excuse me, and you haven’t slept all night...

- Hmm... Sit down... Open your mouth!

Vonmiglasov sits down and opens his mouth.

Kuryatin frowns, looks into his mouth and among the teeth yellowed by time and tobacco sees one tooth decorated with a gaping hollow.

– Father Deacon told me to use vodka and horseradish – it didn’t help. Glykeria Anisimovna, God bless them, they gave them a string to wear on their hands from Mount Athos and told them to rinse their teeth with warm milk, and I must admit, I put the string on, but didn’t keep it in relation to milk: I fear God, fasting...

- Prejudice... (Pause.) We need to tear it out, Efim Mikheich!

“You know better, Sergei Kuzmich, that’s what you’re trained for, to understand this matter as it is, what to tear out, and what in drops or other things... That’s what you, benefactors, are meant to do, God bless you, so that we can take care of you.” day and night, dear fathers... to the grave of life...

“It’s not a big deal...” the paramedic says modestly, going to the cabinet and rummaging through the instruments. - Surgery is a trifle... It’s all about habit, firmness of hand... Just a piece of cake... The other day, just like you, the landowner Alexander Ivanovich Egyptian comes to the hospital... Also with a tooth... An educated man, he asks about everything, he goes into everything, how and what . He shakes hands, by name and patronymic... He lived in St. Petersburg for seven years, he sniffed all the professors... We've been here for a long time... He prays to Christ God: tear him out for me, Sergei Kuzmich! Why not pull it out? You can pull it out. Only here you need to understand, you can’t do without a concept... There are different teeth. You tear one with tongs, another with a goat's leg, the third with a key... It depends on you.

The paramedic takes the goat leg, looks at it questioningly for a minute, then puts it down and takes the tongs.

“Well, open your mouth wider...” he says, approaching the sexton with tongs. - Now we have it... that's it... Just a piece of cake... Just trim the gum... do traction along the vertical axis... and that's all... (cuts the gum) and that's all...

- You are our benefactors... We, fools, have no idea, but the Lord has enlightened you...

- Don’t reason if your mouth is open... This one is easy to tear, but sometimes it’s just the roots... This one is a piece of cake... (Applies the forceps.) Wait, don’t twitch... Sit still... In the blink of an eye... (Does traction.) The main thing is to take it deeper (pulling)… so that the crown doesn’t break…

- Our fathers... Holy Mother... Vvv...

- Not the same... not the same... what's his name? Don't grab with your hands! Put your hands down! (Pulls.) Now... Here, here... This is not an easy matter...

- Fathers... guardians... (Screams.) Angels! Whoa... Just pull it, pull it! Why are you waiting five years?

- It’s just a matter... surgery... You can’t do it right away... Here, here...

Vonmiglasov raises his knees to his elbows, moves his fingers, bulges his eyes, breathes intermittently... Sweat appears on his purple face, tears in his eyes. Kuryatin sniffles, stomps in front of the sexton and pulls. The most painful half a minute passes - and the forceps are torn from the tooth. The sexton jumps up and puts his fingers in his mouth. In his mouth he feels the tooth in its old place.

- He pulled! - he says in a tearful and at the same time mocking voice. - May you be so drawn to the next world! Thank you very much! If you don’t know how to tear, don’t try it! I don’t see God’s light...

- Why are you grabbing with your hands? - the paramedic gets angry. “I’m pulling, and you’re pushing me under the arm and saying all sorts of stupid words... Stupid!”

- You yourself are a fool!

- Do you think, man, it’s easy to pull a tooth? Take it! It’s not like he climbed up the bell tower and banged on the bells! (Teases.) “You can’t, you can’t!” Tell me which pointer you found! Look... You tore at Mr. Egyptian, Alexander Ivanovich, and he didn’t say anything, no words... A man cleaner than you, and he didn’t grab him with his hands... Sit down! Sit down, I tell you!

- I don’t see the light... Let me catch my breath... Oh! (Sits down.) Don’t just pull for too long, but pull. Don't pull, but pull... Immediately!

- Teach a scientist! What, my God, uneducated people! Live with people like this... you'll go crazy! Open your mouth... (Applies forceps.) Surgery, brother, is no joke... This is not to read in the choir... (Does traction.) Don't twitch... The tooth, it turns out, is old, has taken deep roots... (Pulls.) Don't move... So... so... Don't move... Well, well... (A crunching sound is heard.) I knew it!

Vonmiglasov sits motionless for a minute, as if unconscious. He is stunned... His eyes look blankly into space, there is sweat on his pale face.

“It would be a goat’s leg for me...” mutters the paramedic. - What an opportunity!

Having come to his senses, the sexton puts his fingers into his mouth and finds two protruding protrusions in place of the sore tooth.

“You lousy devil...” he says. - They planted you here, Herods, to our destruction!

“Swear at me again here...” mutters the paramedic, putting the tongs in the closet. - Ignorant... Few of you were treated to birch in the bursa... Mr. Egyptian, Alexander Ivanovich, lived in St. Petersburg for seven years... education... one suit costs a hundred rubles... and even then he didn’t swear...

What kind of peahen are you? It’s okay for you, you won’t die!

The sexton takes his prosphora from the table and, holding his cheek with his hand, goes home...

The sexton Vonmiglasov, a tall, stocky old man in a brown cassock and a wide leather belt, enters the reception room. The right eye has a cataract and is half-closed; there is a wart on the nose, which from a distance looks like a large fly. For a second the sexton looks for the icon with his eyes and, not finding one, crosses himself over a bottle of carbolic solution, then takes out a prosphora from a red handkerchief and places it with a bow in front of the paramedic. - A-a-a... mine for you! - the paramedic yawns. - What did you come with? - Happy Sunday to you, Sergei Kuzmich... To your mercy... Truly and truly the psalter says, excuse me: “Dissolve my drink with crying.” The other day I sat down to drink tea with an old woman and - my God, not a drop, not a blue-powder, even lie down and die... You take a little bread and my strength is gone! And besides what’s in the tooth itself, but also this whole side... It hurts, it hurts! Excuse me, it feels like it’s in your ear, as if there’s a nail or some other object in it: it just shoots, just like that! sinners and lawless... My soul was frozen with cold sins and my life wasted in laziness... For sins, Sergei Kuzmich, for sins! After the liturgy, the father priest reproaches: “You are tongue-tied, Efim, and you have become a gibberish man. You eat, and you won’t understand anything.” And what kind of singing is there, if you can’t open your mouth, you’re all swollen, excuse me, and haven’t slept all night... - Hmmm... Sit down... Open your mouth! Vonmiglasov sits down and opens his mouth. Kuryatin frowns, looks into his mouth and among the teeth yellowed by time and tobacco sees one tooth decorated with a gaping hollow. - Father Deacon told me to use vodka with horseradish - it didn’t help. Glykeria Anisimovna, God bless them, they gave them a string to wear on their hands from Mount Athos and told them to rinse their teeth with warm milk, but I must admit, I put the string on, but in relation to milk I didn’t observe: I’m afraid of God, fasting... - Prejudice ... (pause). You need to tear him out, Efim Mikheich! - You know better, Sergei Kuzmich. That’s what you are trained for, to understand this matter as it is, what to pull out, and what in drops or other things... That’s what you, benefactors, are assigned to, God grant you health, so that we will be for you day and night, dear fathers ... to the grave of life... - Nonsense... - the paramedic is modest, approaching the cabinet and rummaging through the instruments. - Surgery is a trifle... It’s all about habit, firmness of hand... Just a piece of cake... The other day, just like you, the landowner Alexander Ivanovich Egyptian came to the hospital... Also with a tooth... An educated man , asks about everything, enters into everything, how and what. He shakes hands, by name and patronymic... He lived in St. Petersburg for seven years, smelled all the professors. .. We’ve been here with him for a long time... He prays to Christ God: tear him out for me, Sergei Kuzmich! Why not pull it out? You can pull it out. Only here you need to understand, you can’t do without a concept... There are different teeth. You tear one with tongs, another with a goat's leg, the third with a key... It depends on you. The paramedic takes the goat leg, looks at it questioningly for a minute, then puts it down and takes the tongs. “Well, open your mouth wider...” he says, approaching the sexton with tongs. - Now we have it... that's it... Just a piece of cake... Just trim the gum... do traction along the vertical axis... and that's it... (cuts the gum) and that's it... - You are our benefactors ... We, fools, have no idea, but God has enlightened you... - Don’t reason if your mouth is open... This one is easy to tear, but sometimes it’s just the roots... This one is a piece of cake ... (applies forceps). Wait, don't twitch... Sit still... In the blink of an eye... (does traction). The main thing is to take it deeper (pulls)... so that the crown does not break... - Our fathers... Holy Mother... Vvv... - Not right... not right... what's his name? Don't grab with your hands! Put your hands down! (pulls). Now... Here, here... This is not an easy matter... - Fathers... guardians... (shouts). Angels! Whoa... Just pull it, pull it! Why are you waiting five years? - It’s a matter... surgery... It’s impossible right away... Here, here... Vonmiglasov raises his knees to his elbows, moves his fingers, bulges his eyes, breathes intermittently... Sweat appears on his purple face, his eyes tears. Kuryatin sniffles, stomps in front of the sexton and pulls... The most painful half a minute passes - and the forceps are torn from the tooth. The sexton jumps up and puts his fingers in his mouth. In his mouth he feels the tooth in its old place. - Pulled! - he says in a tearful and at the same time mocking voice. - May you be so drawn to the next world! Thank you very much! If you don’t know how to tear, don’t try it! I don’t see the light of God... - Why are you grabbing with your hands? - the paramedic gets angry. “I’m pulling, and you’re pushing my arm and saying all sorts of stupid words... Stupid!” - You yourself are a fool! - Do you think, man, it’s easy to pull a tooth? Take it! It’s not like he climbed up the bell tower and banged on the bells! (teases). “You can’t, you can’t!” Tell me which pointer you found! Look... You tore at Mr. Egyptian, Alexander Ivanovich, and he didn’t say anything, no words... A man cleaner than you, and he didn’t grab him with his hands... Sit down! Sit down, I tell you! - I don’t see the light... Let me catch my breath... Oh! (sits down). Don’t just drag it out too long, just pull it. Don't pull, but pull... Immediately! - Teach a scientist! What, my God, uneducated people! Live with these guys. .. you'll go crazy! Open your mouth... (puts on forceps). Surgery, brother, is not a joke... This is not to read in the choir... (does traction). Twitch... The tooth, it turns out, is old, has taken deep roots... (pulls). Don't move... Well... well... Don't move... Well, well... (a crunching sound is heard). I knew it! Vonmiglasov sits motionless for a minute, as if unconscious. He is stunned... His eyes look blankly into space, there is sweat on his pale face. “It would be a goat’s leg for me...” mutters the paramedic. - What an opportunity! Having come to his senses, the sexton puts his fingers into his mouth and finds two protruding protrusions in place of the sore tooth. “You lousy devil...” he says. - They impaled you here, Herods, to our destruction! “Swear at me again here...” mutters the paramedic, putting the tongs in the cupboard. - Ignorant... Few of you were treated to birch in Bursa... Mister Egyptian. Alexander Ivanovich, he lived in St. Petersburg for seven years... educated... one suit costs a hundred rubles... and even then he didn’t swear... What kind of peahen are you? It’s okay for you, you won’t die! The sexton takes his prosphora from the table and, holding his cheek with his hand, goes home...

Zemsky hospital. In the absence of the doctor, who has left to get married, the patients are seen by paramedic Kuryatin, a fat man of about forty, in a worn Chechunchka jacket and frayed sweatpants. There is an expression of duty and pleasantness on the face. Between the index and middle fingers of the left hand is a cigar, spreading a stench.
The sexton Vonmiglasov, a tall, stocky old man in a brown cassock and a wide leather belt, enters the reception room. The right eye has a cataract and is half-closed; there is a wart on the nose, which from a distance looks like a large fly. For a second the sexton looks for the icon with his eyes and, not finding one, crosses himself over a bottle of carbolic solution, then takes out a prosphora from a red handkerchief and places it with a bow in front of the paramedic.
- A-ah-ah... mine is for you! - the paramedic yawns. - What did you come with?
- Happy Sunday to you, Sergei Kuzmich... To your mercy... Truly and truly the psalter says, excuse me: “Dissolve my drink with crying.” The other day I sat down to drink tea with an old woman and - my God, not a drop, not a blue-powder, even lie down and die... If you take a little bread, my strength is gone! And besides what’s in the tooth itself, but also this whole side... It hurts, it hurts! Excuse me, it feels like it’s in your ear, as if there’s a nail or some other object in it: it just shoots, just like that! I have sinned and been lawless... I have scorched my soul with cold sins and spent my life in laziness... For sins, Sergei Kuzmich, for sin! After the liturgy, Father Priest reproaches: “You are tongue-tied, Efim, and you have become a bastard. Eat, and you won’t understand anything.” And what kind of singing is there, judge, if you can’t open your mouth, everything is swollen, excuse me, and you haven’t slept all night...
- Hmmm... Sit down... Open your mouth!
Vonmiglasov sits down and opens his mouth.
Kuryatin frowns, looks into his mouth and among the teeth yellowed by time and tobacco sees one tooth decorated with a gaping hollow.
— Father Deacon told me to use vodka and horseradish, but it didn’t help. Glykeria Anisimovna, God bless them, they gave them a string to wear on their hands from Mount Athos and told them to rinse their teeth with warm milk, but I must admit, I put the string on, but didn’t follow the rules regarding milk: I fear God, fasting...
- Prejudice... (pause). You need to tear him out, Efim Mikheich!
- You know better, Sergei Kuzmich. That’s what you are trained for, to understand this matter as it is, what to pull out, and what in drops or other things... That’s what you, benefactors, are assigned to, God grant you health, so that we will be for you day and night, dear fathers ... to the grave of life...
“It’s not a big deal...” the paramedic says modestly, going to the cabinet and rummaging through the instruments. - Surgery is a trifle... It’s all about habit, firmness of hand... Just a piece of cake... The other day, just like you, the landowner Alexander Ivanovich of Egypt came to the hospital... Also with a tooth... An educated man, about asks everyone questions, enters into everything, how and what. He shakes hands by name and patronymic... He lived in St. Petersburg for seven years, smelled all the professors... We've been here for a long time... He prays to Christ God: snatch him out for me, Sergei Kuzmich! Why not pull it out? You can pull it out. Only here you need to understand, you can’t do without a concept... There are different teeth. You tear one with tongs, another with a goat's leg, the third with a key... It depends on you.
The paramedic takes the goat leg, looks at it questioningly for a minute, then puts it down and takes the tongs.
“Well, open your mouth wider...” he says, approaching the sexton with tongs. - Now we have it... that's it... Just a piece of cake... Just trim the gum... apply traction along the vertical axis... and that's it... (cuts the gum) and that's it...
- You are our benefactors... We, fools, have no idea, but the Lord has enlightened you...
- Don’t reason if your mouth is open...
- This one is easy to tear, but sometimes it’s just the roots... This one is a piece of cake... (puts on tongs). Wait, don't twitch... Sit still... In the blink of an eye... (does traction). The main thing is to take it deeper (pulls)... so that the crown doesn’t break...
- Our fathers... Holy Mother... Vvv...
- Not the same... not the same... what's his name? Don't grab with your hands! Put your hands down! (pulls). Now... Here, here... This is not an easy matter...
- Fathers... guardians... (screams). Angels! Whoa... Just pull it, pull it! Why are you waiting five years?
- It’s a matter... surgery... You can’t do it right away... Here, here...
Vonmiglasov raises his knees to his elbows, moves his fingers, bulges his eyes, breathes intermittently... Sweat appears on his purple face, tears in his eyes. Kuryatin sniffles, stomps in front of the sexton and pulls... The most painful half a minute passes - and the forceps are torn from the tooth. The sexton jumps up and puts his fingers in his mouth. In his mouth he feels the tooth in its old place.
- Pulled! - he says in a tearful and at the same time mocking voice. - May you be so drawn to the next world! Thank you very much! If you don’t know how to tear, don’t try it! I don't see God's light...
- Why are you grabbing with your hands? - the paramedic gets angry. “I’m pulling, and you’re pushing me under the arm and saying all sorts of stupid words.... Stupid!”
- You yourself are a fool!
- Do you think, man, it’s easy to pull a tooth? Take it! It’s not like he climbed up the bell tower and banged on the bells! (teases). “You can’t, you can’t!” Tell me which pointer you found! Look... You tore at Mr. Egyptian, Alexander Ivanovich, and he didn’t say anything, no words... A man cleaner than you, and he didn’t grab him with his hands... Sit down! Sit down, I tell you!
- I don’t see the light... Let me catch my breath... Oh! (sits down). Don’t just drag it out too long, just pull it. Don't pull, but pull... Immediately!
- Teach a scientist! What, my God, uneducated people! Live with these... you'll go crazy! Open your mouth... (puts on forceps). Surgery, brother, is not a joke... This is not to read in the choir... (does traction). Don’t twitch... The tooth, it turns out, is old, has taken deep roots... (pulls). Don't move... Well... well... Don't move... Well, well... (a crunching sound is heard). I knew it!
Vonmiglasov sits motionless for a minute, as if unconscious. He is stunned... His eyes look blankly into space, there is sweat on his pale face.
“It would be like a goat’s leg to me...” mutters the paramedic. - What an opportunity!
Having come to his senses, the sexton puts his fingers into his mouth and finds two protruding protrusions in place of the sore tooth.
“You lousy devil...” he says. - They planted you here, Herods, to our destruction!
“Swear at me again here...” mutters the paramedic, putting the tongs in the cupboard. - Ignorant... Few of you were treated to birch in the bursa... Mr. Egyptian, Alexander Ivanovich, lived in St. Petersburg for seven years... education... one suit costs a hundred rubles... and even then he didn’t swear... And you what kind of peahen is this? It’s okay for you, you won’t die!
The sexton takes his prosphora from the table and, holding his cheek with his hand, goes home...