Nicholas got out of bed and, slowly, went to the staffroom room.

- Come in, come in! - he heard the singing voice of Maya Mihailovna, peering through the door ajar, - yes, close the door on the latch so that we would not be disturbed: I want to talk to you, what is called tête-à-tête ... Come and sit here, I hope you will be comfortable. - She pointed to the far end of the old low couch from the door, sitting on which Nicholas failed, almost to the floor.

“Without help from this sofa, you won’t go up,” he thought, “why did she need me? ... She sits in a normal chair.”

Maya Mikhailovna was sitting on a “normal”, although rather old chair, sideways to the table, leaning her right arm on it, just opposite the sofa, which Nikolai was now fidgeting about in torment.

- Your name seems to be Nikolai Ivanovich? - She broke off his thoughts.

- With your permission, Igorevich.

- Yes, yes, forgive my mistake, Nikolai Igorevich!

- I am somewhat scattered today. I ask you, light a cigarette, - she handed him a printed pack of "Salem."

“Thank you, I have just smoked,” Nikolai tried to leant, hoping to somehow reduce the time of the visit.

- Fu, how rude it is to refuse a lady, you still seemed to me such a gallant man!

- Excuse me! - flattered, he readily picked up the outstretched pack.

“Offer me too, gallant man!”

- Yes, of course, I beg you! - he handed her a cigarette. “Well, just some kind of competition in secularism,” he thought annoyingly.

Shy by nature, Nikolai experienced an almost physical discomfort, communicating with unfamiliar and unfamiliar women, and so it was unbearable, the more attractive was the woman.

- Tell me, Nikolai Igorevich, I have long wanted to ask what kind of paper is hanging there, above your bed?

- This is a timetable for my recovery.

- ... Oh, how interesting! - she raised her already high eyebrows. - You have been undergoing treatment for two weeks already?

- You have two weeks ...

- Have you been treated before that?

- In the clinic.

- Well, yes, of course ... And what, does the recovery to your schedule correspond?

- Nearly.

- Very, very curious! - She said with interest.

Nikolai strongly doubted that she, such a brilliant woman, might be curious about himself and his stupid schedule hanging over the bed, but she was so charming that she wanted to listen to everything and believe in everything that flows smoothly from her lips .. .

- You are obviously in a hurry to leave?

- Hurry, of course ... - Nikolay could not understand what she was driving at. He felt fascinated by this woman. He also liked the perfumes she always uses, and the way she dresses, and her manner of holding, speaking ... And the more virtues he found in her, the more inconspicuous he seemed to himself and became more constrained.

Of course, to shake up there, in the ward, with all the sick honest people, when she leads a detour, he didn’t work so badly, but here, alone with her, is a completely different matter. Yes, there is also this antique sofa, comparable only to the “Procrustean”, but Maya Mikhailovna is sitting in such proximity that when you try to rise from the sofa to shake the ashes in the ashtray, you almost touch her knees.

“Not otherwise, everything is specially arranged? He knows that I have already been forgiven for two weeks ... Here he is - real sadism! ”- his forehead was covered in perspiration.

“You can’t imagine,” she continued, meanwhile, in a tone that was tired and sympathetic, “just came from the street, there was mud and rain,” I was called to another building to see the patient. You see, you didn’t have time to change your shoes, - looking him straight in the eyes, she slightly put her left leg in a thin, elegant boot, almost without distortion repeating the expressive relief of the calves.And she was mortally tired: she was up all day, - she finished with an artistic hoarse in her voice.

Nikolai readily lowered his eyes to the boots suggested for viewing.

She immediately caught his eye.

“You haven't been home for two weeks ... have you missed children, wife? - as if she said sympathetically, trying to look into his lowered eyes and thus showing that she noticed the interest shown in the boot.

Nikolay, having felt this frank movement, understood everything: “Of course, she drank, she was bored and wanted to have some fun. Not otherwise, my “hungry” look noticed, and now she is playing with all her might Well and let, please! - having understood her aspirations, he felt a trembling pleasure in his whole body. For this beautiful woman, he certainly recognized the right to rule over himself and by anyone.

“She is letting me close. Well, in the end, such a woman has the right to have fun with anyone, including me, if it gives her any pleasure: she has the right to do anything! ”He thought without a doubt.

I really wanted to persuade myself, to convince that he almost did not have to go to meet her wishes, to play along with her, because he himself did not make any attempts, he was not to blame for anything. The familiar words from the song came to my mind obligingly: “Snowfall, snowfall, if a woman asks ...” After all, all this is solely due to his gentleness and inability to refuse. Why is he obliged here only to swallow pills, and three times a day to give the sisters ass for injections? Why should he not lightly fool about such a beautiful woman, as long as she does not mind? Just a little bit, because no one will suffer from this, because no one will know about it.

“Well, yes, what to be, that can not be avoided! - Nikolai thought with despair, - you should jump into your head without hesitation, and then what will happen! ”.

- Yes, I miss, and very much! He interrupted his thoughts, finding it appropriate to accompany these words with a barely noticeable dramatic sigh, which, of course, did not go unnoticed.

Nikolai made a decision and now looked at her, his dream, which materialized so suddenly, portraying pensive sadness on his face and occasionally dropping sad eyes to the floor, as if by chance, lingering on her open lap. He believed that this harmless trick will surely have an effect on her.

“Do not be sad, in two or three weeks you will be at home as good as new, if, of course, by that time the ulcer is cicatrized, and I, as the attending physician, consider it possible to discharge you,” she continued with light irony, carefully watching the wandering along her legs sad eyes.

- But it will not be so soon! - with mournful notes in her voice, again dropping her eyes on her fishy tights, he said, keeping in mind this remark and ending the conversation about the possible timing of discharge.

A mysterious half-smile froze on her face. Alcohol, drunk in the evening, this extremely "informative" conversation with a reasonably interlocutor, his inability to conceal the sadness in his eyes, tracing the "random" movements of her legs and arms, desperate attempts to adapt to the couch - all this entertained her and made the evening enjoyable. Maya Mikhailovna gladly lit a new cigarette.

“Well, only now I seem to have finally got warm,” she said, barely audible. “Nikolai Igorevich, my shoes are there near the cabinet, beige ones, don't take it for work, bring them here,” said Maya Mikhailovna melodiously, mischievously and defiantly looking at him.

“Aha, the word“ please ”is omitted,” he said to herself ...