Oblomov / Обломов. Книга для чтения на английском языке

You must also avoid passionate entanglements; they interfere with the cure. You must try and divert yourself by riding, dancing, moderate exercise in the fresh air, pleasant conversation, especially with ladies, so that your heart should be stirred lightly and only by pleasant sensationsВ».

Oblomov listened to him dejectedly.

В«And then?В» he asked.

«And then keep away from reading and writing – that’s very important! Hire a villa with a southern aspect, with lots of flowers, and see there are women about you and music» —

В«What sort of food ought I to have?В»

В«Avoid meat and animal food in general, also starchy food and meat jellies.

В«Good heavens!В» Oblomov groaned.

«– and, finally», the doctor concluded, «go to Paris for the winter and amuse yourself there – in the whirl of life – and try not to think; from the theatre to a dance, a fancy-dress ball, pay visits to friends in the country, see that you have friends, noise, laughter around you».

В«Anything else?В» asked Oblomov with ill-disguised vexation.

The doctor pondered.

В«Perhaps you could try the sea air; get on a steamer in England and take a trip to AmericaВ».

He got up to leave.

«If you carry it all out exactly» – he said.

В«Very well, very wellВ», Oblomov replied sarcastically, as he saw him off, В«I shall certainly carry it outВ».

The doctor went away, leaving Oblomov in a most pitiful condition. He closed his eyes, put both hands behind his head, huddled himself up in the chair and sat like that, seeing and feeling nothing.

A timid voice called behind him:

В«Sir!В»

В«Well?В» he replied.

«And what shall I tell the landlord’s agent?»

В«What about?В»

В«About our moving?В»

«You’re at it again?» Oblomov asked in surprise.

«But, sir, what am I to do? You must admit that my life’s not easy as it is.

«Oh no, it’s me you’re worrying to death by your talk of moving», said Oblomov. «You’d better hear what the doctor has just told me!»

Zakhar did not know what to say to that and merely fetched so deep a sigh that the ends of the kerchief round his neck shook on his breast.

«You’ve made up your mind to kill me, have you?» Oblomov asked again.