“We don’t expect to get him home! We must ask the doctor.”

And the old servant got down from the box and went up to the cart.

“All right!” said the doctor.

The old servant returned to the calèche, looked into it, shook his head disconsolately, told the driver to turn into the yard, and stopped beside Mávra Kuzmínichna.

“O, Lord Jesus Christ!” she murmured.

She invited them to take the wounded man into the house.

“The masters won’t object⁠ ⁠…” she said.

But they had to avoid carrying the man upstairs, and so they took him into the wing and put him in the room that had been Madame Schoss’.

This wounded man was Prince Andréy Bolkónski.