“Not at all, sir,” said Gerasim, who had learned among the town-bred servants how to speak to gentlefolks.

“What have you left to do?”

“Why, what have I to do? I’ve done everything, there’s only the wood to chop for tomorrow.”

“Then hold my legs up like that⁠—can you?”

“To be sure, I can.” Gerasim lifted the legs up. And it seemed to Ivan Ilyitch that in that position he did not feel the pain at all.

“But how about the wood?”

“Don’t you trouble about that, sir. We shall have time enough.”

Ivan Ilyitch made Gerasim sit and hold his legs, and began to talk to him. And, strange to say, he fancied he felt better while Gerasim had hold of his legs.