I

The little girl was unwell. Every day the doctor came to see her, Dr. Michael Petrovitch, whom she had known long, long ago. And sometimes he brought with him two other doctors whom she didn\'t know. They turned the little girl over on to her back and then on to her stomach, listened to something, putting an ear against her body, pulled down her under eyelids and looked at them. They seemed very important people, they had stern faces, and they spoke to one another in a language the little girl did not understand.

Afterwards they went out from the nursery into the drawing-room, where mother sat waiting for them. The most important doctor—the tall one with grey hair and gold eye-glasses—talked earnestly to her for a long time. The door was not shut, and the little girl lying on her bed could see and hear all. There was much that she didn\'t understand, but she knew the talk was about her. Mother looked up at the doctor with large, tired, tear-filled eyes. When the doctors went away the chief one said loudly:

"The most important thing is—don\'t let her be dull. Give in to all her whims."

"Ah, doctor, but she doesn\'t want anything!"

"Well, I don\'t know ... think what she used to like before she was ill. Toys ... something nice to eat...."

"No, no, doctor; she doesn\'t want anything."

"Well, try and tempt her with something.... No matter what it is.... I give you my word that if you can only make her laugh and enjoy herself, it would be better than any medicine. You must understand that your daughter\'s illness is indifference to life, and nothing more.... Good morning, madam!"

II

"Dear Nadya, my dear little girl," said mother; "isn\'t there anything you would like to have?"

"No, mother, I don\'t want anything."

"Wouldn\'t you like me to put out all your dolls on the bed? We\'ll arrange the easy chair, the sofa, the little table, and put the tea-service out. The dolls shall have tea and talk to one another about the weather and their children\'s health."

"Thank you, mother.... I don\'t want it.... It\'s so dull...."

"Oh, very well, little girlie, we won\'t have the dolls. Suppose we ask Katya or Zhenochka to come and see you. You\'re very fond of them."

"I don\'t want them, mother. Indeed, I don\'t. I don\'t want anything, don\'t want anything. I\'m so dull!"

"Shall I get you some chocolate?"

But the little girl didn\'t answer, she lay and stared at the ceiling with steadfast, mournful eyes. She had no pain at all, she wasn\'t even feverish. But she was getting thinner and weaker every day. She didn\'t mind what was done to her; it made no difference, she didn\'t care for anything. She lay like this all day and all night, quiet, mournful. Sometimes she would doze for half an hour, and then in her dreams she would see something long and grey and dull, as if she were looking at rain in autumn.

When the door leading from the nursery into the drawing-room was open, and the other door into the study was open too, the little girl could see her father. Father would walk swiftly from one corner of the room to the other, and all the time he would smoke, smoke. Sometimes he would come into the nursery and sit on the edge of Nadya\'s bed and stroke her feet gently. Then he would get up suddenly and go to the window, whistle a little, and look out into the street, but his shoulders would tremble. He would hurriedly press his handkerchief first to one eye and then to the other, and then go back into his study as if he were angry. Then he would begin again to pace up and down and smoke ... and smoke ... and smoke. And his study would look all blue from the clouds of tobacco smoke.

III

One morning the little girl woke to feel a little stronger than usual. She had dreamed something, but she couldn\'t remember exactly what she had dreamed, and she looked attentively into her mother\'s eyes for a long time.

"What would you like?" asked mother.

But the little girl had suddenly remembered her dream, and she said in a whisper, as if it were a secret:

"Mother ... could I have ... an elephant? Only not one that\'s painted in a picture.... Eh?"

"Of course you can, my child, of course."

She went into the study and told papa that the little girl wanted an elephant. Papa put on his coat and hat directly, and went off somewhere. In half an hour he came back, bringing with him an expensive beautiful toy. It was a large grey elephant that could move its head and wave its tail; on its back was a red saddle, and on the saddle there was a golden vent with three little men sitting inside. But the little girl paid no attention to the toy; she only looked up at the walls and ceiling, and said languidly:

"No. That\'s not at all what I meant. I wanted a real live elephant, and this one\'s dead."

"But only look at it, Nadya," said mamma. "We\'ll wind him up, and he\'ll be exactly, exactly like a live one."

The elephant was wound up with a key, and it then began to move its legs and walk slowly along the table, nodding its head and waving its tail. But the little girl wasn\'t interested at all; she was even bored by it, though in order that her father shouldn\'t feel hurt she whispered kindly:

"Thank you very very much, dear papa. I don\'t think anyone has such an interesting toy as this.... Only ... you remember ... long ago, you promised to take me to a menagerie to see a real elephant ... and you didn\'t bring it here...."

"But listen, my dear child. Don\'t you understand hat that\'s impossible. An elephant is very big; he\'s as high as the ceiling, and we couldn\'t get him into our rooms. And what\'s more, where could I obtain one?"

"Papa, I don\'t want such a big one.... You could bring me as little a one as you like, so long as it\'s alive. As big as this ... a baby elephant."

"My dear child, I should be glad to do anything for you, but this is impossible. It\'s just as if you suddenly said to me, \'Papa, get me the sun out of the sky.\'"

The little girl smiled sadly.

"How stupid you are, papa! As if I didn\'t know it\'s impossible to get the sun, it\'s all on fire. And the moon, too, you can\'t get. No, if only I had a little elephant ... a real one."

And she quietly closed her eyes and whispered:

"I\'m tired.... Forgive me, papa...."

Papa clutched at his hair and ran away to his study, where for some time he marched up and down. Then he resolutely threw his unfinished cigarette on the floor—mamma was always grumbling at him about this—and called out to the maid:

"Olga! Bring me my hat and coat!"

His wife came out into the hall.

"Where are you going, Sasha?" asked she.

He breathed heavily as he buttoned up his coat.

"I don\'t know myself, Mashenka, where I\'m going. ... Only I think that this evening I shall actually bring a live elephant here.

His wife looked anxiously at him.

"My dear, are you quite well?" said she. "Haven\'t you got a headache? Perhaps you slept badly last night?"

"I didn\'t sleep at all," he answered angrily. "I see, you want to ask if I\'m going out of my mind. Not just yet. Good-bye. You\'ll see this evening."

And he went off, loudly slamming the front door after him.

IV

In two hours\' time he was seated in the front row at the menagerie, and watching trained animals perform their different parts under the direction of the manager. Clever dogs jumped, turned somersaults, danced, sang to music, made words with large cardboard letters. Monkeys—one in a red skirt, the other in blue knickers—walked the tight rope and rode upon a large poodle. An immense tawny lion jumped through burning hoops. A clumsy seal fired a pistol. And at last they brought out the elephants. There were three of them: one large and two quite small ones, dwarfs; but all the same, much larger than a horse. It was strange to see how these enormous animals, apparently so heavy and awkward, could perform the most difficult tricks which would be out of the power of a very skilful man. The largest elephant distinguished himself particularly. He stood up at first on his hind legs, then sat down, then stood on his head with his feet in the air, walked along wooden bottles, then on a rolling cask, turned over the pages of a large picture-book with his tail, and, finally, sat down at a table and, tying a serviette round his neck, had his dinner just like a well-brought-up little boy.

The show came to an end. The spectators went out. Nadya\'s father went up to the stout German, the manager of the menagerie. He was standing behind a partition smoking a long black cigar.

"Pardon me, please," said Nadya\'s father. "Would it be possible for you to send your elephant to my house for a short time?"

The German\'s eyes opened wide in astonishment, and his mouth also, so that the cigar fell to the ground. He made an exclamation, bent down, picked up the cigar, put it in his mouth again, and then said:

"Send? The elephant? To your house? I don\'t understand you."

It was evident from his look that he also wanted to ask Nadya\'s father if he were a little wrong in the head.... But the father quickly began to explain the matter: his only daughter, Nadya, was ill with a strange malady which no doctor could understand nor cure. She had lain for a month in her bed, had grown thinner and weaker every day, wasn\'t interested in anything, was only dull—she seemed to be slowly dying. The doctors had said she must be roused, but she didn\'t care for anything; they had said that all her desires were to be gratified, but she didn\'t wish for anything at all. To-day she had said she wanted to see a live elephant. Wasn\'t it possible to manage that she should?

And he took the German by the button of his coat, and added in a trembling voice:

"Well ... of course I hope that my little girl will get well again. But suppose ... God forbid it!... her illness should take a sudden turn for the worse ... and she should die! Just think—shouldn\'t I be tortured for all the rest of my life to think that I hadn\'t fulfilled her last, her very last wish!"

The German wrinkled up his forehead and thoughtfully scratched his left eyebrow with his little finger. At length he asked:

"H\'m.... And how old is your little girl?"

"Six."

"H\'m.... My Lisa\'s six, too. H\'m. But you know, it\'ll cost you a lot. We\'ll have to take the elephant one night, and we can\'t bring it back till the next night. It\'ll be impossible to do it in the day-time. There\'d be such crowds of people, and such a fuss.... It means that I should lose a whole day, and you ought to pay me for it."

"Of course, of course ... don\'t be anxious about that."

"And then: will the police allow an elephant to be taken into a private house?"

"I\'ll arrange it. They\'ll allow it."

"And there\'s another question: will the landlord of your house allow the elephant to come in?"

"Y............