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The Devil 39nature of Ivan’s illness. Looking ahead, I can say at least onething: he was at that moment on the very eve of an attack of brainfever. Though long affected by it, his health had offered a bornresistance to the fever that in the end gained complete mastery.Though I know nothing of medicine, I venture to suggest thatperhaps he really had, by a terrible effort of will, succeeded indelaying the attack for a time, hoping of course to check it completely.He knew that he was unwell, but he loathed the thoughtof being ill at that fateful time, at the approaching crisis in his life,when he needed to have all his wits about him, to say what he hadto say boldly and resolutely, and “to justify himself to himself.”He had, however, consulted the new doctor, who hadbeen brought from Moscow by a fantastic notion of KaterinaIvanovna’s to which I have referred already. After listening tohim and examining him, the doctor came to the conclusion thathe was actually suffering from some disorder of the brain andwas not at all surprised by an admission that Ivan had reluctantlymade to him. “Hallucinations are quite likely in your condition,”the doctor said, “though it would be better to verify them…youmust take steps at once, without a moment’s delay, or things willgo badly with you.” But Ivan did not follow this judicious adviceand did not take to his bed to be nursed. “I am walking about, soI am strong enough; if I drop, it will be different – then anyonemay nurse me who likes,” he decided, dismissing the subject.And so he was sitting, almost conscious himself of his delirium,and as I have said already, looking persistently at someobject on the sofa against the opposite wall. Someone appeared tobe sitting there, though goodness knows how he had come in, forhe had not been in the room when Ivan came into it on his returnfrom Smerdyakov. This person or, more accurately speaking, thisRussian gentleman of a particular type, no longer young, “had