The Morning Star Read Online Free PDF Page B

gave it to me.
    “Katiya, perhaps the tsar will agree to some sort of compromise. If you cannot attend medical school, perhaps he will let you open a hospital in your own name. You can spend all your free time there.”
    I gave my brother a slight push as I turned away. “That is exactly what Danilo proposed. But I want to make a hands-on difference. I don’t want to be a silly grand duchess who simply spends money.”
    “But you can make a difference with money, Katiya. Never doubt that.”
    My back still turned to him, I blew my nose.
    He sighed, exasperated with me. “I must leave now or I will be late. Are you going to tell Maman and Papa?”
    I shook my head. “Not until I’ve made my decision. What good would it do?”
    “All right,” he said, squeezing my shoulder gently. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
    I waited until he left before dissolving into tears again. I had to speak with Dr. Badmaev. I wasn’t expected until this afternoon for my studies, but I decided I’d rather face a table of cut-open corpses than my parents right now. I quietly slipped back to my room and grabbed my cloak. I left word with the servantsthat I’d gone to Dariya’s for the day, hoping my cousin would not choose today to pay me a visit.
    I had not seen much of Dariya since she’d traveled with Miechen’s Dark Court to Biarritz over the summer. She had become more and more like her stepmother, Countess Zenaida: her head was filled with Dark Court intrigues and affairs. Dariya was intent on capturing a wealthy, titled husband. I knew what she would tell me to do if I confided in her.
    I walked briskly to the nearest tram location and paid my passage to Betosky Prospekt. I was getting used to riding the rickety, cramped carriage with strangers and seeing a side of St. Petersburg I’d never seen before. Would I be able to help these people better as a wealthy grand duchess or as a research doctor? Could I ever forgive myself if I gave George up? I was so lost in my own miserable thoughts I almost missed my stop near Dr. Badmaev’s clinic and herb shop. Why should the tsar force me to make such a choice? It wasn’t as if George were the heir to the throne. I would never be tsarina or empress.
    Brooding, I entered the doctor’s shop. There were already a few patients sitting in his waiting area. I smiled at them as I hung my wrap on the coat stand. I passed through to the back of the building, where I found the Tibetan doctor drinking a cup of tea.
    “Duchess! You are early! Are you so eager to dive back into the lung tissue? Did you discover the secrets of your pink growths?”
    “Yes, they were tuberculin tumors,” I said with a little pride. “But I came early because I am in a terrible quandary.” I took the cup of tea Masha handed me. Thanking her, I sat down next to Dr. Badmaev.
    “Nothing that tea can’t make better, I hope?” he said, smiling.
    “I’m afraid it’s too terrible for tea to fix.” I took a sip and told him about the tsar’s ultimatum.
    “The tsar is very old-fashioned. More so than his father ever was,” the Tibetan said. “And this has kept you up all night, worrying?”
    I laughed grimly. “Does it show?”
    He smiled. “Come to the lab and we will take your mind off your problems for now. Perhaps you will be able to think clearly after concentrating on something else for a while.”
    I smiled back. Tumors and germs were just what I needed.
    I spent the morning examining lung tissues under the microscope while Dr. Badmaev treated the patients out front. As I drew illustrations of the various cells, I listened to him examine his patients, asking them about their symptoms and explaining to them how to take the medicine he was prescribing.
    Most of the patients were poor and ignorant and needed simple, brief directions. Their illnesses could have been prevented if they had nutritious food and practiced better hygiene. One woman had put pig manure on her child’s cut foot