Book I

　　CHAPTER I.

　　MASLOVA IN PRISON.

　　Though hundreds of thousands had done their very best todisfigure the small piece of land on which they were crowdedtogether, by paying the ground with stones, scraping away everyvestige of vegetation, cutting down the trees, turning away birdsand beasts, and filling the air with the smoke of naphtha andcoal, still spring was spring, even in the town.

　　The sun shone warm, the air was balmy; everywhere, where it didnot get scraped away, the grass revived and sprang up between thepaving-stones as well as on the narrow strips of lawn on theboulevards. The birches, the poplars, and the wild cherryunfolded their gummy and fragrant leaves, the limes wereexpanding their opening buds; crows, sparrows, and pigeons,filled with the joy of spring, were getting their nests ready;the flies were buzzing along the walls, warmed by the sunshine.All were glad, the plants, the birds, the insects, and thechildren. But men, grown-up men and women, did not leave offcheating and tormenting themselves and each other. It was notthis spring morning men thought sacred and worthy ofconsideration not the beauty of God's world, given for a joy toall creatures, this beauty which inclines the heart to peace, toharmony, and to love, but only their own devices for enslavingone another.

　　Thus, in the prison office of the Government town, it was not thefact that men and animals had received the grace and gladness ofspring that was considered sacred and important, but that anotice, numbered and with a superscription, had come the daybefore, ordering that on this 28th day of April, at 9 a.m., threeprisoners at present detained in the prison, a man and two women(one of these women, as the chief criminal, to be conductedseparately), had to appear at Court. So now, on the 28th ofApril, at 8 o'clock, a jailer and soon after him a woman warderwith curly grey hair, dressed in a jacket with sleeves trimmedwith gold, with a blue-edged belt round her waist, and having alook of suffering on her face, came into the corridor.

　　"You want Maslova?" she asked, coming up to the cell with thejailer who was on duty.

　　The jailer, rattling the iron padlock, opened the door of thecell, from which there came a whiff of air fouler even than thatin the corridor, and called out, "Maslova! to the Court," andclosed the door again.

　　Even into the prison yard the breeze had brought the freshvivifying air from the fields. But in the corridor the air wasladen with the germs of typhoid, the smell of sewage,putrefaction, and tar; every newcomer felt sad and dejected init. The woman warder felt this, though she was used to bad air.She had just come in from outside, and entering the corridor, sheat once became sleepy.

　　From inside the cell came the sound of bustle and women's voices,and the patter of bare feet on the floor.

　　"Now, then, hurry up, Maslova, I say!" called out the jailer, andin a minute or two a small young woman with a very full bust camebriskly out of the door and went up to the jailer. She had on agrey cloak over a white jacket and petticoat. On her feet shewore linen stockings and prison shoes, and round her head wastied a white kerchief, from under which a few locks of black hairwere brushed over the forehead with evident intent. The face ofthe woman was of that whiteness peculiar to people who have livedlong in confinement, and which puts one in mind of shoots ofpotatoes that spring up in a cellar. Her small broad hands andfull neck, which showed from under the broad collar of her cloak,were of the same hue. Her black, sparkling eyes, one with aslight squint, appeared in striking contrast to the dull pallorof her face.

　　She carried herself very straight, expanding her full bosom.

　　With her head slightly thrown back, she stood in the corridor,looking straight into the eyes of the jailer, ready to complywith any order.

　　The jailer was about to lock the door when a wrinkled andsevere-looking old woman put out her grey head and began speakingto Maslova. But the jailer closed the door, pushing the oldwoman's head with it. A woman's laughter was heard from the cell,and Maslova smiled, turning to the little grated opening in thecell door. The old woman pressed her face to the grating from theother side, and said, in a hoarse voice:

　　"Now mind, and when they begin questioning you, just repeat overthe same thing, and stick to it; tell nothing that is notwanted."

　　"Well, it could not be worse than it is now, anyhow; I only wishit was settled one way or another."

　　"Of course, it will be settled one way or another," said thejailer, with a superior's self-assured witticism. "Now, then, getalong! Take your places!"

　　The old woman's eyes vanished from the grating, and Maslovastepped out into the middle of the corridor. The warder in front,they descended the stone stairs, past the still fouler, noisycells of the men's ward, where they were followed by eyes lookingout of every one of the gratings in the doors, and entered theoffice, where two soldiers were waiting to escort her. A clerkwho was sitting there gave one of the soldiers a paper reeking oftobacco, and pointing to the prisoner, remarked, "Take her."

　　The soldier, a peasant from Nijni Novgorod, with a red,pock-marked face, put the paper into the sleeve of his coat,winked to his companion, a broad-shouldered Tchouvash, and thenthe prisoner and the soldiers went to the front entrance, out ofthe prison yard, and through the town up the middle of theroughly-paved street.

　　Isvostchiks [cabmen], tradespeople, cooks, workmen,and government clerks, stopped and looked curiously at theprisoner; some shook their heads and thought, "This is what evilconduct, conduct unlike ours, leads to." The children stopped andgazed at the robber with frightened looks; but the thought thatthe soldiers were preventing her from doing more harm quietedtheir fears. A peasant, who had sold his charcoal, and had hadsome tea in the town, came up, and, after crossing himself, gaveher a copeck.  The prisoner blushed and muttered something; shenoticed that she was attracting everybody's attention, and thatpleased her. The comparatively fresh air also gladdened her, butit was painful to step on the rough stones with the ill-madeprison shoes on her feet, which had become unused to walking.Passing by a corn-dealer's shop, in front of which a few pigeonswere strutting about, unmolested by any one, the prisoner almosttouched a grey-blue bird with her foot; it fluttered up and flewclose to her car, fanning her with its wings. She smiled, thensighed deeply as she remembered her present position.

　　CHAPTER II.

　　MASLOVA'S EARLY LIFE.

　　The story of the prisoner Maslova's life was a very common one.

　　Maslova's mother was the unmarried daughter of a village woman,employed on a dairy farm, which belonged to two maiden ladies whowere landowners. This unmarried woman had a baby every year, and,as often happens among the village people, each one of theseundesired babies, after it had been carefully baptised, wasneglected by its mother, whom it hindered at her work, and leftto starve. Five children had died in this way. They had all beenbaptised and then not sufficiently fed, and just left to die.The sixth baby, whose father was a gipsy tramp, would have sharedthe same fate, had it not so happened that one of the maidenladies came into the farmyard to scold the dairymaids for sendingup cream that smelt of the cow. The young woman was lying in thecowshed with a fine, healthy, new-born baby. The old maiden ladyscolded the maids again for allowing the woman (who had just beenconfined) to lie in the cowshed, and was about to go away, butseeing the baby her heart was touched, and she offered to standgodmother to the little girl, and pity for her littlegod-daughter induced her to give milk and a little money to themother, so that she should feed the baby; and the little girllived. The old ladies spoke of her as "the saved one." When thechild was three years old, her mother fell ill and died, and themaiden ladies took the child from her old grandmother, to whomshe was nothing but a burden.

　　The little black-eyed maiden grew to be extremely pretty, and sofull of spirits that the ladies found her very entertaining.

　　The younger of the ladies, Sophia Ivanovna, who had stoodgodmother to the girl, had the kinder heart of the two sisters;Maria Ivanovna, the elder, was rather hard. Sophia Ivanovnadressed the little girl in nice clothes, and taught her to readand write, meaning to educate her like a lady. Maria Ivanovnathought the child should be brought up to work, and trained herto be a good servant. She was exacting; she punished, and, whenin a bad temper, even struck the little girl. Growing up underthese two different influences, the girl turned out half servant,half young lady. They called her Katusha, which sounds lessrefined than Katinka, but is not quite so common as Katka. Sheused to sew, tidy up the rooms, polish the metal cases of theicons and do other light work, and sometimes she sat and read tothe ladies.

　　Though she had more than one offer, she would not marry. She feltthat life as the wife of any of the working men who were courtingher would be too hard; spoilt as she was by a life of case.

　　She lived in this manner till she was sixteen, when the nephew ofthe old ladies, a rich young prince, and a university student,came to stay with his aunts, and Katusha, not daring toacknowledge it even to herself, fell in love with him.

　　Then two years later this same nephew stayed four days with hisaunts before proceeding to join his regiment, and the nightbefore he left he betrayed Katusha, and, after giving her a100-rouble note, went away. Five months later she knew forcertain that she was to be a mother. After that everything seemedrepugnant to her, her only thought being how to escape from theshame that awaited her. She began not only to serve the ladies ina half-hearted and negligent way, but once, without knowing howit happened, was very rude to them, and gave them notice, a thingshe repented of later, and the ladies let her go, noticingsomething wrong and very dissatisfied with her. Then she got ahousemaid's place in a police-officer's house, but stayed thereonly three months, for the police officer, a man of fifty, beganto torment her, and once, when he was in a specially enterprisingmood, she fired up, called him "a fool and old devil," and gavehim such a knock in the chest that he fell. She was turned outfor her rudeness. It was useless to look for another situation,for the time of her confinement was drawing near, so she went tothe house of a village midwife, who also sold wine. Theconfinement was easy; but the midwife, who had a case of fever inthe village, infected Katusha, and her baby boy had to be sent tothe foundlings' hospital, where, according to the words of theold woman who took him there, he at once died. When Katusha wentto the midwife she had 127 roubles in all, 27 which she hadearned and 100 given her by her betrayer. When she left she hadbut six roubles; she did not know how to keep money, but spent iton herself, and gave to all who asked. The midwife took 40roubles for two months' board and attendance, 25 went to get thebaby into the foundlings' hospital, and 40 the midwife borrowedto buy a cow with. Twenty roubles went just for clothes anddainties. Having nothing left to live on, Katusha had to look outfor a place again, and found one in the house of a forester. Theforester was a married man, but he, too, began to annoy her fromthe first day. He disgusted her, and she tried to avoid him. Buthe, more experienced and cunning, besides being her master, whocould send her wherever he liked, managed to accomplish hisobject. His wife found it out, and, catching Katusha and herhusband in a room all by themselves, began beating her. Katushadefended herself, and they had a fight, and Katusha got turnedout of the house without being paid her wages.

　　Then Katusha went to live with her aunt in town. The aunt'shusband, a bookbinder, had once been comfortably off, but hadlost all his customers, and had taken to drink, and spent all hecould lay hands on at the public-house. The aunt kept a littlelaundry, and managed to support herself, her children, and herwretched husband. She offered Katusha the place of an assistantlaundress; but seeing what a life of misery and hardship heraunt's assistants led, Katusha hesitated, and applied to aregistry office for a place. One was found for her with a ladywho lived with her two sons, pupils at a public day school. Aweek after Katusha had entered the house the elder, a big fellowwith moustaches, threw up his studies and made love to her,continually following her about. His mother laid all the blame onKatusha, and gave her notice.

　　It so happened that, after many fruitless attempts to find asituation, Katusha again went to the registry office, and theremet a woman with bracelets on her bare, plump arms and rings onmost of her fingers. Hearing that Katusha was badly in want of aplace, the woman gave her her address, and invited her to come toher house. Katusha went. The woman received her very kindly, setcake and sweet wine before her, then wrote a note and gave it toa servant to take to somebody. In the evening a tall man, withlong, grey hair and a white beard, entered the room, and sat downat once near Katusha, smiling and gazing at her with glisteningeyes. He began joking with her. The hostess called him away intothe next room, and Katusha heard her say, "A fresh one from thecountry," Then the hostess called Katusha aside and told her thatthe man was an author, and that he had a great deal of money, andthat if he liked her he would not grudge her anything. He didlike her, and gave her 25 roubles, promising to see her often.The 25 roubles soon went; some she paid to her aunt for board andlodging; the rest was spent on a hat, ribbons, and such like. Afew days later the author sent for her, and she went. He gave heranother 25 roubles, and offered her a separate lodging.

　　Next door to the lodging rented for her by the author there liveda jolly young shopman, with whom Katusha soon fell in love. Shetold the author, and moved to a little lodging of her own. Theshopman, who promised to marry her, went to Nijni on businesswithout mentioning it to her, having evidently thrown her up, andKatusha remained alone. She meant to continue living in thelodging by herself, but was informed by the police that in thiscase she would have to get a license. She returned to her aunt.Seeing her fine dress, her hat, and mantle, her aunt no longeroffered her laundry work. As she understood things, her niece hadrisen above that sort of thing. The question as to whether shewas to become a laundress or not did not occur to Katusha,either. She looked with pity at the thin, hard-workedlaundresses, some already in consumption, who stood washing orironing with their thin arms in the fearfully hot front room,which was always full of soapy steam and draughts from thewindows, and thought with horror that she might have shared thesame fate.

　　Katusha had begun to smoke some time before, and since the youngshopman had thrown her up she was getting more and more into thehabit of drinking. It was not so much the flavour of wine thattempted her as the fact that it gave her a chance of forgettingthe misery she suffered, making her feel more unrestrained andmore confident of her own worth, which she was not when quitesober; without wine she felt sad and ashamed. Just at this time awoman came along who offered to place her in one of the largestestablishments in the city, explaining all the advantages andbenefits of the situation. Katusha had the choice before her ofeither going into service or accepting this offer--and she chosethe latter. Besides, it seemed to her as though, in this way, shecould revenge herself on her betrayer and the shopman and allthose who had injured her. One of the things that tempted her,and was the cause of her decision, was the woman telling her shemight order her own dresses--velvet, silk, satin, low-necked balldresses, anything she liked. A mental picture of herself in abright yellow silk trimmed with black velvet with low neck andshort sleeves conquered her, and she gave up her passport. On thesame evening the procuress took an isvostchik and drove her tothe notorious house kept by Carolina Albertovna Kitaeva.

　　From that day a life of chronic sin against human and divine lawscommenced for Katusha Maslova, a life which is led by hundreds ofthousands of women, and which is not merely tolerated butsanctioned by the Government, anxious for the welfare of itssubjects; a life which for nine women out of ten ends in painfuldisease, premature decrepitude, and death.

　　Katusha Maslova lived this life for seven years. During theseyears she twice changed houses, and had once been to thehospital. In the seventh year of this life, when she wastwenty-six years old, happened that for which she was put inprison and for which she was now being taken to be tried, aftermore than three months of confinement with thieves and murderersin the stifling air of a prison.

　　CHAPTER III.

　　NEKHLUDOFF.

　　When Maslova, wearied out by the long walk, reached the building,accompanied by two soldiers, Prince Dmitri Ivanovitch Nekhludoff,who had seduced her, was still lying on his high bedstead, with afeather bed on the top of the spring mattress, in a fine, clean,well-ironed linen night shirt, smoking a cigarette, andconsidering what he had to do to-day, and what had happenedyesterday.

　　Recalling the evening he had spent with the Korchagins, a wealthyand aristocratic family, whose daughter every one expected hewould marry, he sighed, and, throwing away the end of hiscigarette, was going to take another out of the silver case; but,changing his mind, he resolutely raised his solid frame, and,putting down his smooth, white legs, stepped into his slippers,threw his silk dressing gown over his broad shoulders, and passedinto his dressing-room, walking heavily and quickly. There hecarefully cleaned his teeth, many of which were filled, withtooth powder, and rinsed his mouth with scented elixir. Afterthat he washed his hands with perfumed soap, cleaned his longnails with particular care, then, from a tap fixed to his marblewashstand, he let a spray of cold water run over his face andstout neck. Having finished this part of the business, he wentinto a third room, where a shower bath stood ready for him.Having refreshed his full, white, muscular body, and dried itwith a rough bath sheet, he put on his fine undergarments and hisboots, and sat down before the glass to brush his black beard andhis curly hair, that had begun to get thin above the forehead.Everything he used, everything belonging to his toilet, hislinen, his clothes, boots, necktie, pin, studs, was of the bestquality, very quiet, simple, durable and costly.

　　Nekhludoff dressed leisurely, and went into the dining-room. Atable, which looked very imposing with its four legs carved inthe shape of lions' paws, and a huge side-board to match, stoodin the oblong room, the floor of which had been polished by threemen the day before. On the table, which was covered with a fine,starched cloth, stood a silver coffeepot full of aromatic coffee,a sugar basin, a jug of fresh cream, and a bread basket filledwith fresh rolls, rusks, and biscuits; and beside the plate laythe last number of the Revue des Deux Mondes, a newspaper, andseveral letters.

　　Nekhludoff was just going to open his letters, when a stout,middle-aged woman in mourning, a lace cap covering the wideningparting of her hair, glided into the room. This was AgraphenaPetrovna, formerly lady's maid to Nekhludoff's mother. Hermistress had died quite recently in this very house, and sheremained with the son as his housekeeper. Agraphena Petrovna hadspent nearly ten years, at different times, abroad withNekhludoff's mother, and had the appearance and manners of alady. She had lived with the Nekhludoffs from the time she was achild, and had known Dmitri Ivanovitch at the time when he wasstill little Mitinka.

　　"Good-morning, Dmitri Ivanovitch."

　　"Good-morning, Agraphena Petrovna. What is it you want?"Nekhludoff asked.

　　"A letter from the princess; either from the mother or thedaughter. The maid brought it some time ago, and is waiting in myroom," answered Agraphena Petrovna, handing him the letter with asignificant smile.

　　"All right! Directly!" said Nekhludoff, taking the letter andfrowning as he noticed Agraphena Petrovna's smile.

　　That smile meant that the letter was from the younger PrincessKorchagin, whom Agraphena Petrovna expected him to marry. Thissupposition of hers annoyed Nekhludoff.

　　"Then I'll tell her to wait?" and Agraphena Petrovna took a crumbbrush which was not in its place, put it away, and sailed out ofthe room.

　　Nekhludoff opened the perfumed note, and began reading it.

　　The note was written on a sheet of thick grey paper, with roughedges; the writing looked English. It said:

　　Having assumed the task of acting as your memory, I take theliberty of reminding you that on this the 28th day of April youhave to appear at the Law Courts, as juryman, and, inconsequence, can on no account accompany us and Kolosoff to thepicture gallery, as, with your habitual flightiness, you promisedyesterday; a moins que vous ne soyez dispose a payer la courd'assise les 300 roubles d'amende que vous vous refusez pourvotre cheval, for not appearing in time. I remembered it lastnight after you were gone, so do not forget.

　　Princess M. Korchagin.

　　On the other side was a postscript.

　　Maman vous fait dire que votre convert vous attendra jusqu'a lanuit. Venez absolument a quelle heure que cela soit.

　　M. K.

　　Nekhludoff made a grimace. This note was a continuation of thatskilful manoeuvring which the Princess Korchagin had alreadypractised for two months in order to bind him closer and closerwith invisible threads. And yet, beside the usual hesitation ofmen past their youth to marry unless they are very much in love,Nekhludoff had very good reasons why, even if he did make up hismind to it, he could not propose at once. It was not that tenyears previously he had betrayed and forsaken Maslova; he hadquite forgotten that, and he would not have considered it areason for not marrying. No! The reason was that he had a liaisonwith a married woman, and, though he considered it broken off,she did not.

　　Nekhludoff was rather shy with women, and his very shynessawakened in this married woman, the unprincipled wife of themarechal de noblesse of a district where Nekhludoff was presentat an election, the desire of vanquishing him. This woman drewhim into an intimacy which entangled him more and more, while itdaily became more distasteful to him. Having succumbed to thetemptation, Nekhludoff felt guilty, and had not the courage tobreak the tie without her consent. And this was the reason he didnot feel at liberty to propose to Korchagin even if he had wishedto do so. Among the letters on the table was one from thiswoman's husband. Seeing his writing and the postmark, Nekhludoffflushed, and felt his energies awakening, as they always did whenhe was facing any kind of danger.

　　But his excitement passed at once. The marechal do noblesse, ofthe district in which his largest estate lay, wrote only to letNekhludoff know that there was to be a special meeting towardsthe end of May, and that Nekhludoff was to be sure and come to"donner un coup d'epaule," at the important debates concerningthe schools and the roads, as a strong opposition by thereactionary party was expected.

　　The marechal was a liberal, and was quite engrossed in thisfight, not even noticing the misfortune that had befallen him.

　　Nekhludoff remembered the dreadful moments he had lived through;once when he thought that the husband had found him out and wasgoing to challenge him, and he was making up his mind to fireinto the air; also the terrible scene he had with her when sheran out into the park, and in her excitement tried to drownherself in the pond.

　　"Well, I cannot go now, and can do nothing until I get a replyfrom her," thought Nekhludoff. A week ago he had written her adecisive letter, in which he acknowledged his guilt, and hisreadiness to atone for it; but at the same time he pronouncedtheir relations to be at an end, for her own good, as heexpressed it. To this letter he had as yet received no answer.This might prove a good sign, for if she did not agree to breakoff their relations, she would have written at once, or even comeherself, as she had done before. Nekhludoff had heard that therewas some officer who was paying her marked attention, and thistormented him by awakening jealousy, and at the same timeencouraged him with the hope of escape from the deception thatwas oppressing him.

　　The other letter was from his steward. The steward wrote to tellhim that a visit to his estates was necessary in order to enterinto possession, and also to decide about the further managementof his lands; whether it was to continue in the same way as whenhis mother was alive, or whether, as he had represented to thelate lamented princess, and now advised the young prince, theyhad not better increase their stock and farm all the land nowrented by the peasants themselves. The steward wrote that thiswould be a far more profitable way of managing the property; atthe same time, he apologised for not having forwarded the 3,000roubles income due on the 1st. This money would he sent on by thenext mail. The reason for the delay was that he could not get themoney out of the peasants, who had grown so untrustworthy that hehad to appeal to the authorities. This letter was partlydisagreeable, and partly pleasant. It was pleasant to feel thathe had power over so large a property, and yet disagreeable,because Nekhludoff had been an enthusiastic admirer of HenryGeorge and Herbert Spencer. Being himself heir to a largeproperty, he was especially struck by the position taken up bySpencer in Social Statics, that justice forbids privatelandholding, and with the straightforward resoluteness of hisage, had not merely spoken to prove that land could not be lookedupon as private property, and written essays on that subject atthe university, but had acted up to his convictions, and,considering it wrong to hold landed property, had given the smallpiece of land he had inherited from his father to the peasants.Inheriting his mother's large estates, and thus becoming a landedproprietor, he had to choose one of two things: either to give uphis property, as he had given up his father's land ten yearsbefore, or silently to confess that all his former ideas weremistaken and false.

　　He could not choose the former because he had no means but thelanded estates (he did not care to serve); moreover, he hadformed luxurious habits which he could not easily give up.Besides, he had no longer the same inducements; his strongconvictions, the resoluteness of youth, and the ambitious desireto do something unusual were gone. As to the second course, thatof denying those clear and unanswerable proofs of the injusticeof landholding, which he had drawn from Spencer's Social Statics,and the brilliant corroboration of which he had at a later periodfound in the works of Henry George, such a course was impossibleto him.

　　CHAPTER IV.

　　MISSY.

　　WHEN Nekhludoff had finished his coffee, he went to his study tolook at the summons, and find out what time he was to appear atthe court, before writing his answer to the princess. Passingthrough his studio, where a few studies hung on the walls and,facing the easel, stood an unfinished picture, a feeling ofinability to advance in art, a sense of his incapacity, came overhim. He had often had this feeling, of late, and explained it byhis too finely-developed aesthetic taste; still, the feeling wasa very unpleasant one. Seven years before this he had given upmilitary service, feeling sure that he had a talent for art, andhad looked down with some disdain at all other activity from theheight of his artistic standpoint. And now it turned out that hehad no right to do so, and therefore everything that reminded himof all this was unpleasant. He looked at the luxurious fittingsof the studio with a heavy heart, and it was in no cheerful moodthat he entered his study, a large, lofty room fitted up with aview to comfort, convenience, and elegant appearance. He foundthe summons at once in a pigeon hole, labelled "immediate," ofhis large writing table. He had to appear at the court at 11o'clock.

　　Nekhludoff sat down to write a note in reply to the princess,thanking her for the invitation, and promising to try and come todinner. Having written one note, he tore it up, as it seemed toointimate. He wrote another, but it was too cold; he feared itmight give offence, so he tore it up, too. He pressed the buttonof an electric bell, and his servant, an elderly, morose-lookingman, with whiskers and shaved chin and lip, wearing a grey cottonapron, entered at the door.

　　"Send to fetch an isvostchik, please."

　　"Yes, sir."

　　"And tell the person who is waiting that I send thanks for theinvitation, and shall try to come."

　　"Yes, sir."

　　"It is not very polite, but I can't write; no matter, I shall seeher today," thought Nekhludoff, and went to get his overcoat.

　　When he came out of the house, an isvostchik he knew, withindia-rubber tires to his trap, was at the door waiting for him."You had hardly gone away from Prince Korchagin's yesterday," hesaid, turning half round, "when I drove up, and the Swiss at thedoor says, 'just gone.'" The isvostchik knew that Nekhludoffvisited at the Korchagins, and called there on the chance ofbeing engaged by him.

　　"Even the isvostchiks know of my relations with the Korchagins,"thought Nekhludoff, and again the question whether he should notmarry Princess Korchagin presented itself to him, and he couldnot decide it either way, any more than most of the questionsthat arose in his mind at this time.

　　It was in favour of marriage in general, that besides thecomforts of hearth and home, it made a moral life possible, andchiefly that a family would, so Nekhludoff thought, give an aimto his now empty life.

　　Against marriage in general was the fear, common to bachelorspast their first youth, of losing freedom, and an unconscious awebefore this mysterious creature, a woman.

　　In this particular case, in favour of marrying Missy (her namewas Mary, but, as is usual among a certain set, a nickname hadbeen given her) was that she came of good family, and differed ineverything, manner of speaking, walking, laughing, from thecommon people, not by anything exceptional, but by her "goodbreeding"--he could find no other term for this quality, thoughhe prized it very highly---and, besides, she thought more of himthan of anybody else, therefore evidently understood him. Thisunderstanding of him, i.e., the recognition of his superiormerits, was to Nekhludoff a proof of her good sense and correctjudgment. Against marrying Missy in particular, was, that in alllikelihood, a girl with even higher qualities could be found,that she was already 27, and that he was hardly her first love.This last idea was painful to him. His pride would not reconcileitself with the thought that she had loved some one else, even inthe past. Of course, she could not have known that she shouldmeet him, but the thought that she was capable of loving anotheroffended him. So that he had as many reasons for marrying asagainst it; at any rate, they weighed equally with Nekhludoff,who laughed at himself, and called himself the ass of the fable,remaining like that animal undecided which haycock to turn to.

　　"At any rate, before I get an answer from Mary Vasilievna (themarechal's wife), and finish completely with her, I can donothing," he said to himself. And the conviction that he might,and was even obliged, to delay his decision, was comforting."Well, I shall consider all that later on," he said to himself,as the trap drove silently along the asphalt pavement up to thedoors of the Court.

　　"Now I must fulfil my public duties conscientiously, as I am inthe habit of always doing, and as I consider it right to do.Besides, they are often interesting." And he entered the hall ofthe Law Courts, past the doorkeeper.

　　CHAPTER V.

　　THE JURYMEN.

　　The corridors of the Court were already full of activity. Theattendants hurried, out of breath, dragging their feet along theground without lifting them, backwards and forwards, with allsorts of messages and papers. Ushers, advocates, and law officerspassed hither and thither. Plaintiffs, and those of the accusedwho were not guarded, wandered sadly along the walls or satwaiting.

　　"Where is the Law Court?" Nekhludoff asked of an attendant.

　　"Which? There is the Civil Court and the Criminal Court."

　　"I am on the jury."

　　"The Criminal Court you should have said. Here to the right, thento the left--the second door."

　　Nekhludoff followed the direction.

　　Meanwhile some of the Criminal Court jurymen who were late hadhurriedly passed into a separate room. At the door mentioned twomen stood waiting.

　　One, a tall, fat merchant, a kind-hearted fellow, had evidentlypartaken of some refreshments and a glass of something, and wasin most pleasant spirits. The other was a shopman of Jewishextraction. They were talking about the price of wool whenNekhludoff came up and asked them if this was the jurymen's room.

　　"Yes, my dear sir, this is it. One of us? On the jury, are you?"asked the merchant, with a merry wink.

　　"Ah, well, we shall have a go at the work together," hecontinued, after Nekhludoff had answered in the affirmative. "Myname is Baklasheff, merchant of the Second Guild," he said,putting out his broad, soft, flexible hand.

　　"With whom have I the honour?"

　　Nekhludoff gave his name and passed into the jurymen's room.

　　Inside the room were about ten persons of all sorts. They hadcome but a short while ago, and some were sitting, others walkingup and down, looking at each other, and making each other'sacquaintance. There was a retired colonel in uniform; some werein frock coats, others in morning coats, and only one wore apeasant's dress.

　　Their faces all had a certain look of satisfaction at theprospect of fulfilling a public duty, although many of them hadhad to leave their businesses, and most were complaining of it.

　　The jurymen talked among themselves about the weather, the earlyspring, and the business before them, some having beenintroduced, others just guessing who was who. Those who were notacquainted with Nekhludoff made haste to get introduced,evidently looking upon this as an honour, and he taking it as hisdue, as he always did when among strangers. Had he been asked whyhe considered himself above the majority of people, he could nothave given an answer; the life he had been living of late was notparticularly meritorious. The fact of his speaking English,French, and German with a good accent, and of his wearing thebest linen, clothes, ties, and studs, bought from the mostexpensive dealers in these goods, he quite knew would not serveas a reason for claiming superiority. At the same time he didclaim superiority, and accepted the respect paid him as his due,and was hurt if he did not get it. In the jurymen's room hisfeelings were hurt by disrespectful treatment. Among the jurythere happened to be a man whom he knew, a former teacher of hissister's children, Peter Gerasimovitch. Nekhludoff never knew hissurname, and even bragged a bit about this. This man was now amaster at a public school. Nekhludoff could not stand hisfamiliarity, his self-satisfied laughter, his vulgarity, inshort.

　　"Ah ha! You're also trapped." These were the words, accompaniedwith boisterous laughter, with which Peter Gerasimovitch greetedNekhludoff. "Have you not managed to get out of it?"

　　"I never meant to get out of it," replied Nekhludoff, gloomily,and in a tone of severity.

　　"Well, I call this being public spirited. But just wait until youget hungry or sleepy; you'll sing to another tune then."

　　"This son of a priest will be saying 'thou' [in Russian, as inmany other languages, "thou" is used generally among people veryfamiliar with each other, or by superiors to inferiors] to menext," thought Nekhludoff, and walked away, with such a look ofsadness on his face, as might have been natural if he had justheard of the death of all his relations. He came up to a groupthat had formed itself round a clean-shaven, tall, dignified man,who was recounting something with great animation. This man wastalking about the trial going on in the Civil Court as of a casewell known to himself, mentioning the judges and a celebratedadvocate by name. He was saying that it seemed wonderful how thecelebrated advocate had managed to give such a clever turn to theaffair that an old lady, though she had the right on her side,would have to pay a large sum to her opponent. "The advocate is agenius," he said.

　　The listeners heard it all with respectful attention, and severalof them tried to put in a word, but the man interrupted them, asif he alone knew all about it.

　　Though Nekhludoff had arrived late, he had to wait a long time.One of the members of the Court had not yet come, and everybodywas kept waiting.

　　CHAPTER VI.

　　THE JUDGES.

　　The president, who had to take the chair, had arrived early. Thepresident was a tall, stout man, with long grey whiskers. Thoughmarried, he led a very loose life, and his wife did the same, sothey did not stand in each other's way. This morning he hadreceived a note from a Swiss girl, who had formerly been agoverness in his house, and who was now on her way from SouthRussia to St. Petersburg. She wrote that she would wait for himbetween five and six p.m. in the Hotel Italia. This made him wishto begin and get through the sitting as soon as possible, so asto have time to call before six p.m. on the little red-hairedClara Vasilievna, with whom he had begun a romance in the countrylast summer. He went into a private room, latched the door, tooka pair of dumb-bells out of a cupboard, moved his arms 20 timesupwards, downwards, forwards, and sideways, then holding thedumb-bells above his head, lightly bent his knees three times.

　　"Nothing keeps one going like a cold bath and exercise," he said,feeling the biceps of his right arm with his left hand, on thethird finger of which he wore a gold ring. He had still to do themoulinee movement (for he always went through those two exercisesbefore a long sitting), when there was a pull at the door. Thepresident quickly put away the dumb-bells and opened the door,saying, "I beg your pardon."

　　One of the members, a high-shouldered, discontented-looking man,with gold spectacles, came into the room. "Matthew Nikitich hasagain not come," he said, in a dissatisfied tone.

　　"Not yet?" said the president, putting on his uniform. "He isalways late."

　　"It is extraordinary. He ought to be ashamed of himself," saidthe member, angrily, and taking out a cigarette.

　　This member, a very precise man, had had an unpleasant encounterwith his wife in the morning, because she had spent her allowancebefore the end of the month, and had asked him to give her somemoney in advance, but he would not give way to her, and they hada quarrel. The wife told him that if he were going to behave so,he need not expect any dinner; there would be no dinner for himat home. At this point he left, fearing that she might carry outher threat, for anything might be expected from her. "This comesof living a good, moral life," he thought, looking at thebeaming, healthy, cheerful, and kindly president, who, withelbows far apart, was smoothing his thick grey whiskers with hisfine white hands over the embroidered collar of his uniform. "Heis always contented and merry while I am suffering."

　　The secretary came in and brought some document.

　　"Thanks, very much," said the president, lighting a cigarette."Which case shall we take first, then?"

　　"The poisoning case, I should say," answered the secretary, withindifference.

　　"All right; the poisoning case let it be," said the president,thinking that he could get this case over by four o'clock, andthen go away. "And Matthew Nikitich; has he come?"

　　"Not yet."

　　"And Breve?"

　　"He is here," replied the secretary.

　　"Then if you see him, please tell him that we begin with thepoisoning case." Breve was the public prosecutor, who was to readthe indictment in this case.

　　In the corridor the secretary met Breve, who, with up liftedshoulders, a portfolio under one arm, the other swinging with thepalm turned to the front, was hurrying along the corridor,clattering with his heels.

　　"Michael Petrovitch wants to know if you are ready? the secretaryasked.

　　"Of course; I am always ready," said the public prosecutor. "Whatare we taking first?

　　"The poisoning case."

　　"That's quite right," said the public prosecutor, but did notthink it at all right. He had spent the night in a hotel playingcards with a friend who was giving a farewell party. Up to fivein the morning they played and drank, so he had no time to lookat this poisoning case, and meant to run it through now. Thesecretary, happening to know this, advised the president to beginwith the poisoning case. The secretary was a Liberal, even aRadical, in opinion.

　　Breve was a Conservative; the secretary disliked him, and enviedhim his position.

　　"Well, and how about the Skoptzy?" [a religious sect] asked thesecretary.

　　"I have already said that I cannot do it without witnesses, andso I shall say to the Court."

　　"Dear me, what does it matter?"

　　"I cannot do it," said Breve; and, waving his arm, he ran intohis private room.

　　He was putting off the case of the Skoptzy on account of theabsence of a very unimportant witness, his real reason being thatif they were tried by an educated jury they might possibly beacquitted.

　　By an agreement with the president this case was to be tried inthe coming session at a provincial town, where there would bemore peasants, and, therefore, more chances of conviction.

　　The movement in the corridor increased. The people crowded mostat the doors of the Civil Court, in which the case that thedignified man talked about was being heard.

　　An interval in the proceeding occurred, and the old woman cameout of the court, whose property that genius of an advocate hadfound means of getting for his client, a person versed in law whohad no right to it whatever. The judges knew all about the case,and the advocate and his client knew it better still, but themove they had invented was such that it was impossible not totake the old woman's property and not to hand it over to theperson versed in law.

　　The old woman was stout, well dressed, and had enormous flowerson her bonnet; she stopped as she came out of the door, andspreading out her short fat arms and turning to her advocate, shekept repeating. "What does it all mean? just fancy!"

　　The advocate was looking at the flowers in her bonnet, andevidently not listening to her, but considering some question orother.

　　Next to the old woman, out of the door of the Civil Court, hisbroad, starched shirt front glistening from under his low-cutwaistcoat, with a self-satisfied look on his face, came thecelebrated advocate who had managed to arrange matters so thatthe old woman lost all she had, and the person versed in the lawreceived more than 100,000 roubles. The advocate passed close tothe old woman, and, feeling all eyes directed towards him, hiswhole bearing seemed to say: "No expressions of deference arerequired."

　　CHAPTER VII.

　　THE OFFICIALS OF THE COURT.

　　At last Matthew Nikitich also arrived, and the usher, a thin man,with a long neck and a kind of sideways walk, his nether lipprotruding to one side, which made him resemble a turkey, cameinto the jurymen's room.

　　This usher was an honest man, and had a university education, butcould not keep a place for any length of time, as he was subjectto fits of drunkenness. Three months before a certain countess,who patronised his wife, had found him this place, and he wasvery pleased to have kept it so long.

　　"Well, sirs, is everybody here?" he asked, putting his pince-nezon his nose, and looking round.

　　"Everybody, I think," said the jolly merchant.

　　"All right; we'll soon see." And, taking a list from his pocket,he began calling out the names, looking at the men, sometimesthrough and sometimes over his pince-nez.

　　"Councillor of State, [grades such as this are common in Russia,and mean very little] J. M. Nikiforoff!"

　　"I am he," said the dignified-looking man, well versed in thehabits of the law court.

　　"Ivan Semionovitch Ivanoff, retired colonel!

　　"Here!" replied a thin man, in the uniform of a retired officer.

　　"Merchant of the Second Guild, Peter Baklasheff!"

　　"Here we are, ready!" said the good-humoured merchant, with abroad smile.

　　"Lieutenant of the Guards, Prince Dmitri Nekhludoff!"

　　"I am he," answered Nekhludoff.

　　The usher bowed to him, looking over his pince-nez, politely andpleasantly, as if wishing to distinguish him from the others.

　　"Captain Youri Demitrievitch-Dantchenko, merchant; GrigoriEuphimitch Kouleshoff," etc. All but two were present.

　　"Now please to come to the court, gentlemen," said the usher,pointing to the door, with an amiable wave of his hand.

　　All moved towards the door, pausing to let each other pass. Thenthey went through the corridor into the court.

　　The court was a large, long room. At one end there was a raisedplatform, with three steps leading up to it, on which stood atable, covered with a green cloth trimmed with a fringe of adarker shade. At the table were placed three arm-chairs, withhigh-carved oak backs; on the wall behind them hung afull-length, brightly-coloured portrait of the Emperor in uniformand ribbon, with one foot in advance, and holding a sword. In theright corner hung a case, with an image of Christ crowned withthorns, and beneath it stood a lectern, and on the same side theprosecuting attorney's desk. On the left, opposite the desk, wasthe secretary's table, and in front of it, nearer the public, anoak grating, with the prisoners' bench, as yet unoccupied, behindit. Besides all this, there were on the right side of theplatform high-backed ashwood chairs for the jury, and on thefloor below tables for the advocates. All this was in the frontpart of the court, divided from the back by a grating.

　　The back was all taken up by seats in tiers. Sitting on the frontseats were four women, either servant or factory girls, and twoworking men, evidently overawed by the grandeur of the room, andnot venturing to speak above a whisper.

　　Soon after the jury had come in the usher entered, with hissideward gait, and stepping to the front, called out in a loudvoice, as if he meant to frighten those present, "The Court iscoming!" Every one got up as the members stepped on to theplatform. Among them the president, with his muscles and finewhiskers. Next came the gloomy member of the Court, who was nowmore gloomy than ever, having met his brother-in-law, whoinformed him that he had just called in to see his sister (themember's wife), and that she had told him that there would be nodinner there.

　　"So that, evidently, we shall have to call in at a cook shop,"the brother-in-law added, laughing.

　　"It is not at all funny," said the gloomy member, and becamegloomier still.

　　Then at last came the third member of the Court, the same MatthewNikitich, who was always late. He was a bearded man, with large,round, kindly eyes. He was suffering from a catarrh of thestomach, and, according to his doctor's advice, he had beguntrying a new treatment, and this had kept him at home longer thanusual. Now, as he was ascending the platform, he had a pensiveair. He was in the habit of making guesses in answer to all sortsof self-put questions by different curious means. Just now he hadasked whether the new treatment would be beneficial, and haddecided that it would cure his catarrh if the number of stepsfrom the door to his chair would divide by three. He made 26steps, but managed to get in a 27th just by his chair.

　　The figures of the president and the members in their uniforms,with gold-embroidered collars, looked very imposing. They seemedto feel this themselves, and, as if overpowered by their owngrandeur, hurriedly sat down on the high backed chairs behind thetable with the green cloth, on which were a triangular articlewith an eagle at the top, two glass vases--something like thosein which sweetmeats are kept in refreshment rooms--an inkstand,pens, clean paper, and good, newly-cut pencils of differentkinds.

　　The public prosecutor came in with the judges. With his portfoliounder one arm, and swinging the other, he hurriedly walked to hisseat near the window, and was instantly absorbed in reading andlooking through the papers, not wasting a single moment, in hopeof being ready when the business commenced. He had been publicprosecutor but a short time, and had only prosecuted four timesbefore this. He was very ambitious, and had firmly made up hismind to get on, and therefore thought it necessary to get aconviction whenever he prosecuted. He knew the chief facts of thepoisoning case, and had already formed a plan of action. He onlywanted to copy out a few points which he required.

　　The secretary sat on the opposite side of the platform, and,having got ready all the papers he might want, was lookingthrough an article, prohibited by the censor, which he hadprocured and read the day before. He was anxious to have a talkabout this article with the bearded member, who shared his views,but wanted to look through it once more before doing so.

　　CHAPTER VIII.

　　SWEARING IN THE JURY.

　　The president, having looked through some papers and put a fewquestions to the usher and the secretary, gave the order for theprisoners to be brought in.

　　The door behind the grating was instantly opened, and twogendarmes, with caps on their heads, and holding naked swords intheir hands, came in, followed by the prisoners, a red-haired,freckled man, and two women. The man wore a prison cloak, whichwas too long and too wide for him. He stuck out his thumbs, andheld his arms close to his sides, thus keeping the sleeves, whichwere also too long, from slipping over his hands. Without lookingat the judges he gazed steadfastly at the form, and passing tothe other side of it, he sat down carefully at the very edge,leaving plenty of room for the others. He fixed his eyes on thepresident, and began moving the muscles of his cheeks, as ifwhispering something. The woman who came next was also dressed ina prison cloak, and had a prison kerchief round her head. She hada sallow complexion, no eyebrows or lashes, and very red eyes.This woman appeared perfectly calm. Having caught her cloakagainst something, she detached it carefully, without any haste,and sat down.

　　The third prisoner was Maslova.

　　As soon as she appeared, the eyes of all the men in the courtturned her way, and remained fixed on her white face, hersparklingly-brilliant black eyes and the swelling bosom under theprison cloak. Even the gendarme whom she passed on her way to herseat looked at her fixedly till she sat down, and then, as iffeeling guilty, hurriedly turned away, shook himself, and beganstaring at the window in front of him.

　　The president paused until the prisoners had taken their seats,and when Maslova was seated, turned to the secretary.

　　Then the usual procedure commenced; the counting of the jury,remarks about those who had not come, the fixing of the fines tobe exacted from them, the decisions concerning those who claimedexemption, the appointing of reserve jurymen.

　　Having folded up some bits of paper and put them in one of theglass vases, the president turned up the gold-embroidered cuffsof his uniform a little way, and began drawing the lots, one byone, and opening them. Nekhludoff was among the jurymen thusdrawn. Then, having let down his sleeves, the president requestedthe priest to swear in the jury.

　　The old priest, with his puffy, red face, his brown gown, and hisgold cross and little order, laboriously moving his stiff legs,came up to the lectern beneath the icon.

　　The jurymen got up, and crowded towards the lectern.

　　"Come up, please," said the priest, pulling at the cross on hisbreast with his plump hand, and waiting till all the jury haddrawn near. When they had all come up the steps of the platform,the priest passed his bald, grey head sideways through the greasyopening of the stole, and, having rearranged his thin hair, heagain turned to the jury. "Now, raise your right arms in thisway, and put your fingers together, thus," he said, with histremulous old voice, lifting his fat, dimpled hand, and puttingthe thumb and two first fingers together, as if taking a pinch ofsomething. "Now, repeat after me, 'I promise and swear, by theAlmighty God, by His holy gospels, and by the life-giving crossof our Lord, that in this work which,'" he said, pausing betweeneach sentence--"don't let your arm down; hold it like this," heremarked to a young man who had lowered his arm--"'that in thiswork which . . . '"

　　The dignified man with the whiskers, the colonel, the merchant,and several more held their arms and fingers as the priestrequired of them, very high, very exactly, as if they liked doingit; others did it unwillingly and carelessly. Some repeated thewords too loudly, and with a defiant tone, as if they meant tosay, "In spite of all, I will and shall speak." Others whisperedvery low, and not fast enough, and then, as if frightened,hurried to catch up the priest. Some kept their fingers tightlytogether, as if fearing to drop the pinch of invisible somethingthey held; others kept separating and folding theirs. Every onesave the old priest felt awkward, but he was sure he wasfulfilling a very useful and important duty.

　　After the swearing in, the president requested the jury to choosea foreman, and the jury, thronging to the door, passed out intothe debating-room, where almost all of them at once began tosmoke cigarettes. Some one proposed the dignified man as foreman,and he was unanimously accepted. Then the jurymen put out theircigarettes and threw them away and returned to the court. Thedignified man informed the president that he was chosen foreman,and all sat down again on the high-backed chairs.

　　Everything went smoothly, quickly, and not without a certainsolemnity. And this exactitude, order, and solemnity evidentlypleased those who took part in it: it strengthened the impressionthat they were fulfilling a serious and valuable public duty.Nekhludoff, too, felt this.

　　As soon as the jurymen were seated, the president made a speechon their rights, obligations, and responsibilities. Whilespeaking he kept changing his position; now leaning on his right,now on his left hand, now against the back, then on the arms ofhis chair, now putting the papers straight, now handling hispencil and paper-knife.

　　According to his words, they had the right of interrogating theprisoners through the president, to use paper and pencils, and toexamine the articles put in as evidence. Their duty was to judgenot falsely, but justly. Their responsibility meant that if thesecrecy of their discussion were violated, or communications wereestablished with outsiders, they would be liable to punishment.Every one listened with an expression of respectful attention.The merchant, diffusing a smell of brandy around him, andrestraining loud hiccups, approvingly nodded his head at everysentence.

　　CHAPTER IX.

　　THE TRIAL--THE PRISONERS QUESTIONED.

　　When he had finished his speech, the president turned to the maleprisoner.

　　"Simeon Kartinkin, rise."

　　Simeon jumped up, his lips continuing to move nervously andinaudibly.

　　"Your name?"

　　"Simon Petrov Kartinkin," he said, rapidly, with a cracked voice,having evidently prepared the answer.

　　"What class do you belong to?"

　　"Peasant."

　　"What government, district, and parish?"

　　"Toula Government, Krapivinskia district, Koupianovski parish,the village Borki."

　　"Your age?"

　　"Thirty-three; born in the year one thousand eight--"

　　"What religion?"

　　"Of the Russian religion, orthodox."

　　"Married?"

　　"Oh, no, sir."

　　"Your occupation?"

　　"I had a place in the Hotel Mauritania."

　　"Have you ever been tried before?"

　　"I never got tried before, because, as we used to liveformerly--"

　　"So you never were tried before?"

　　"God forbid, never."

　　"Have you received a copy of the indictment?"

　　"I have."

　　"Sit down."

　　"Euphemia Ivanovna Botchkova," said the president, turning to thenext prisoner.

　　But Simon continued standing in front of Botchkova.

　　"Kartinkin, sit down!" Kartinkin continued standing.

　　"Kartinkin, sit down!" But Kartinkin sat down only when theusher, with his head on one side, and with preternaturallywide-open eyes, ran up, and said, in a tragic whisper, "Sit down,sit down!"

　　Kartinkin sat down as hurriedly as he had risen, wrapping hiscloak round him, and again began moving his lips silently.

　　"Your name?" asked the president, with a weary sigh at beingobliged to repeat the same questions, without looking at theprisoner, but glancing over a paper that lay before him. Thepresident was so used to his task that, in order to get quickerthrough it all, he did two things at a time.

　　Botchkova was forty-three years old, and came from the town ofKalomna. She, too, had been in service at the Hotel Mauritania.

　　"I have never been tried before, and have received a copy of theindictment." She gave her answers boldly, in a tone of voice asif she meant to add to each answer, "And I don't care who knowsit, and I won't stand any nonsense."

　　She did not wait to be told, but sat down as soon as she hadreplied to the last question.

　　"Your name?" turning abruptly to the third prisoner. "You willhave to rise," he added, softly and gently, seeing that Maslovakept her seat.

　　Maslova got up and stood, with her chest expanded, looking at thepresident with that peculiar expression of readiness in hersmiling black eyes.

　　"What is your name?"

　　"Lubov," she said.

　　Nekhludoff had put on his pince-nez, looking at the prisonerswhile they were being questioned.

　　"No, it is impossible," he thought, not taking his eyes off theprisoner. "Lubov! How can it be?" he thought to himself, afterhearing her answer. The president was going to continue hisquestions, but the member with the spectacles interrupted him,angrily whispering something. The president nodded, and turnedagain to the prisoner.

　　"How is this," he said, "you are not put down here as Lubov?"

　　The prisoner remained silent.

　　"I want your real name."

　　"What is your baptismal name?" asked the angry member.

　　"Formerly I used to be called Katerina."

　　"No, it cannot be," said Nekhludoff to himself; and yet he wasnow certain that this was she, that same girl, half ward, halfservant to his aunts; that Katusha, with whom he had once been inlove, really in love, but whom he had betrayed and thenabandoned, and never again brought to mind, for the memory wouldhave been too painful, would have convicted him too clearly,proving that he who was so proud of his integrity had treatedthis woman in a revolting, scandalous way.

　　Yes, this was she. He now clearly saw in her face that strange,indescribable individuality which distinguishes every face fromall others; something peculiar, all its own, not to be foundanywhere else. In spite of the unhealthy pallor and the fulnessof the face, it was there, this sweet, peculiar individuality; onthose lips, in the slight squint of her eyes, in the voice,particularly in the naive smile, and in the expression ofreadiness on the face and figure.

　　"You should have said so," remarked the president, again in agentle tone. "Your patronymic?"

　　"I am illegitimate."

　　"Well, were you not called by your godfather's name?"

　　"Yes, Mikhaelovna."

　　"And what is it she can be guilty of?" continued Nekhludoff, inhis mind, unable to breathe freely.

　　"Your family name--your surname, I mean?" the president went on.

　　"They used to call me by my mother's surname, Maslova."

　　"What class?"

　　"Meschanka." [the lowest town class or grade]

　　"Religion--orthodox?"

　　"Orthodox."

　　"Occupation. What was your occupation?"

　　Maslova remained silent.

　　"What was your employment?"

　　"You know yourself," she said, and smiled. Then, casting ahurried look round the room, again turned her eyes on thepresident.

　　There was something so unusual in the expression of her face, soterrible and piteous in the meaning of the words she had uttered,in this smile, and in the furtive glance she had cast round theroom, that the president was abashed, and for a few minutessilence reigned in the court. The silence was broken by some oneamong the public laughing, then somebody said "Ssh," and thepresident looked up and continued:

　　"Have you ever been tried before?"

　　"Never," answered Maslova, softly, and sighed.

　　"Have you received a copy of the indictment?"

　　"I have," she answered.

　　"Sit down."

　　The prisoner leant back to pick up her skirt in the way a finelady picks up her train, and sat down, folding her small whitehands in the sleeves of her cloak, her eyes fixed on thepresident. Her face was calm again.

　　The witnesses were called, and some sent away; the doctor who wasto act as expert was chosen and called into the court.

　　Then the secretary got up and began reading the indictment. Heread distinctly, though he pronounced the "I" and "r" alike, witha loud voice, but so quickly that the words ran into one anotherand formed one uninterrupted, dreary drone.

　　The judges bent now on one, now on the other arm of their chairs,then on the table, then back again, shut and opened their eyes,and whispered to each other. One of the gendarmes several timesrepressed a yawn.

　　The prisoner Kartinkin never stopped moving his cheeks.Botchkova sat quite still and straight, only now and thenscratching her head under the kerchief.

　　Maslova sat immovable, gazing at the reader; only now and thenshe gave a slight start, as if wishing to reply, blushed, sighedheavily, and changed the position of her hands, looked round, andagain fixed her eyes on the reader.

　　Nekhludoff sat in the front row on his high-backed chair, withoutremoving his pince-nez, and looked at Maslova, while acomplicated and fierce struggle was going on in his soul.

　　CHAPTER X.

　　THE TRIAL--THE INDICTMENT.

　　The indictment ran as follows: On the 17th of January, 18--, inthe lodging-house Mauritania, occurred the sudden death of theSecond Guild merchant, Therapont Emilianovich Smelkoff, ofKourgan.

　　The local police doctor of the fourth district certified thatdeath was due to rupture of the heart, owing to the excessive useof alcoholic liquids. The body of the said Smelkoff was interred.After several days had elapsed, the merchant Timokhin, afellow-townsman and companion of the said Smelkoff, returned fromSt. Petersburg, and hearing the circumstances that accompaniedthe death of the latter, notified his suspicions that the deathwas caused by poison, given with intent to rob the said Smelkoffof his money. This suspicion was corroborated on inquiry, whichproved:

　　1. That shortly before his death the said Smelkoff had receivedthe sum of 3,800 roubles from the bank. When an inventory of theproperty of the deceased was made, only 312 roubles and 16copecks were found.

　　2. The whole day and night preceding his death the said Smelkoffspent with Lubka (alias Katerina Maslova) at her home and in thelodging-house Mauritania, which she also visited at the saidSmelkoff's request during his absence, to get some money, whichshe took out of his portmanteau in the presence of the servantsof the lodging-house Mauritania, Euphemia Botchkova and SimeonKartinkin, with a key given her by the said Smelkoff. In theportmanteau opened by the said Maslova, the said Botchkova andKartinkin saw packets of 100-rouble bank-notes.

　　3. On the said Smelkoff's return to the lodging-house Mauritania,together with Lubka, the latter, in accordance with the attendantKartinkin's advice, gave the said Smelkoff some white powdergiven to her by the said Kartinkin, dissolved in brandy.

　　4. The next morning the said Lubka (alias Katerina Maslova) soldto her mistress, the witness Kitaeva, a brothel-keeper, a diamondring given to her, as she alleged, by the said Smelkoff.

　　5. The housemaid of the lodging-house Mauritania, EuphemiaBotchkova, placed to her account in the local Commercial Bank1,800 roubles. The postmortem examination of the body of the saidSmelkoff and the chemical analysis of his intestines provedbeyond doubt the presence of poison in the organism, so thatthere is reason to believe that the said Smelkoff's death wascaused by poisoning.

　　When cross-examined, the accused, Maslova, Botchkova, andKartinkin, pleaded not guilty, deposing--Maslova, that she hadreally been sent by Smelkoff from the brothel, where she "works,"as she expresses it, to the lodging-house Mauritania to get themerchant some money, and that, having unlocked the portmanteauwith a key given her by the merchant, she took out 40 roubles, asshe was told to do, and that she had taken nothing more; thatBotchkova and Kartinkin, in whose presence she unlocked andlocked the portmanteau, could testify to the truth of thestatement.

　　She gave this further evidence--that when she came to thelodging-house for the second time she did, at the instigation ofSimeon Kartinkin, give Smelkoff sonic kind of powder, which shethought was a narcotic, in a glass of brandy, hoping he wouldfall asleep and that she would be able to get away from him; andthat Smelkoff, having beaten her, himself gave her the ring whenshe cried and threatened to go away.

　　The accused, Euphemia Botchkova, stated that she knew nothingabout the missing money, that she had not even gone intoSmelkoff's room, but that Lubka had been busy there all byherself; that if anything had been stolen, it must have been doneby Lubka when she came with the merchant's key to get his money.

　　At this point Maslova gave a start, opened her mouth, and lookedat Botchkova. "When," continued the secretary," the receipt for1,800 roubles from the bank was shown to Botchkova, and she wasasked where she had obtained the money, she said that it was herown earnings for 12 years, and those of Simeon, whom she wasgoing to marry. The accused Simeon Kartinkin, when firstexamined, confessed that he and Botchkova, at the instigation ofMaslova, who had come with the key from the brothel, had stolenthe money and divided it equally among themselves and Maslova.Here Maslova again started, half-rose from her seat, and,blushing scarlet, began to say something, but was stopped by theusher. "At last," the secretary continued, reading, "Kartinkinconfessed also that he had supplied the powders in order to getSmelkoff to sleep. When examined the second time he denied havinghad anything to do with the stealing of the money or givingMaslova the powders, accusing her of having done it alone."Concerning the money placed in the bank by Botchkova, he said thesame as she, that is, that the money was given to them both bythe lodgers in tips during 12 years' service.

　　The indictment concluded as follows:

　　In consequence of the foregoing, the peasant of the villageBorki, Simeon Kartinkin, 33 years of age, the meschanka EuphemiaBotchkova, 43 years of age, and the meschanka Katerina Maslova,27 years of age, are accused of having on the 17th day ofJanuary, 188--, jointly stolen from the said merchant, Smelkoff,a ring and money, to the value of 2,500 roubles, and of havinggiven the said merchant, Smelkoff, poison to drink, with intentof depriving him of life, and thereby causing his death. Thiscrime is provided for in clause 1,455 of the Penal Code,paragraphs 4 and 5.

　　CHAPTER XI.

　　THE TRIAL--MASLOVA CROSS-EXAMINED.

　　When the reading of the indictment was over, the president, afterhaving consulted the members, turned to Kartinkin, with anexpression that plainly said: Now we shall find out the wholetruth down to the minutest detail.

　　"Peasant Simeon Kartinkin," he said, stooping to the left.

　　Simeon Kartinkin got up, stretched his arms down his sides, andleaning forward with his whole body, continued moving his cheeksinaudibly.

　　"You are accused of having on the 17th January, 188--, togetherwith Euphemia Botchkova and Katerina Maslova, stolen money from aportmanteau belonging to the merchant Smelkoff, and then, havingprocured some arsenic, persuaded Katerina Maslova to give it tothe merchant Smelkoff in a glass of brandy, which was the causeof Smelkoff's death. Do you plead guilty?" said the president,stooping to the right.

　　"Not nohow, because our business is to attend on the lodgers,and--"

　　"You'll tell us that afterwards. Do you plead guilty?"

　　"Oh, no, sir. I only,--"

　　"You'll tell us that afterwards. Do you plead guilty?" quietlyand firmly asked the president.

　　"Can't do such a thing, because that--"

　　The usher again rushed up to Simeon Kartinkin, and stopped himin a tragic whisper.

　　The president moved the hand with which he held the paper andplaced the elbow in a different position with an air that said:"This is finished," and turned to Euphemia Botchkova.

　　"Euphemia Botchkova, you are accused of having, on the 17th ofJanuary, 188-, in the lodging-house Mauritania, together withSimeon Kartinkin and Katerina Maslova, stolen some money and aring out of the merchant Smelkoff's portmanteau, and havingshared the money among yourselves, given poison to the merchantSmelkoff, thereby causing his death. Do you plead guilty?"

　　"I am not guilty of anything," boldly and firmly replied theprisoner. "I never went near the room, but when this baggage wentin she did the whole business."

　　"You will say all this afterwards," the president again said,quietly and firmly. "So you do not plead guilty?"

　　"I did not take the money nor give the drink, nor go into theroom. Had I gone in I should have kicked her out."

　　"So you do not plead guilty?"

　　"Never."

　　"Very well."

　　"Katerina Maslova," the president began, turning to the thirdprisoner, "you are accused of having come from the brothel withthe key of the merchant Smelkoff's portmanteau, money, and aring." He said all this like a lesson learned by heart, leaningtowards the member on his left, who was whispering into his carthat a bottle mentioned in the list of the material evidence wasmissing. "Of having stolen out of the portmanteau money and aring," he repeated, "and shared it. Then, returning to thelodging house Mauritania with Smelkoff, of giving him poison inhis drink, and thereby causing his death. Do you plead guilty?"

　　"I am not guilty of anything," she began rapidly. "As I saidbefore I say again, I did not take it--I did not take it; I didnot take anything, and the ring he gave me himself."

　　"You do not plead guilty of having stolen 2,500 roubles?" askedthe president.

　　"I've said I took nothing but the 40 roubles."

　　"Well, and do you plead guilty of having given the merchantSmelkoff a powder in his drink?"

　　"Yes, that I did. Only I believed what they told me, that theywere sleeping powders, and that no harm could come of them. Inever thought, and never wished. . . God is my witness; I say, Inever meant this," she said.

　　"So you do not plead guilty of having stolen the money and thering from the merchant Smelkoff, but confess that you gave himthe powder?" said the president.

　　"Well, yes, I do confess this, but I thought they were sleepingpowders. I only gave them to make him sleep; I never meant andnever thought of worse."

　　"Very well," said the president, evidently satisfied with theresults gained. "Now tell us how it all happened," and he leanedback in his chair and put his folded hands on the table. "Tell usall about it. A free and full confession will be to youradvantage."

　　Maslova continued to look at the president in silence, andblushing.

　　"Tell us how it happened."

　　"How it happened?" Maslova suddenly began, speaking quickly. "Icame to the lodging-house, and was shown into the room. He wasthere, already very drunk." She pronounced the word HE with alook of horror in her wide-open eyes. "I wished to go away, buthe would not let me." She stopped, as if having lost the thread,or remembered some thing else.

　　"Well, and then?"

　　"Well, what then? I remained a bit, and went home again."

　　At this moment the public prosecutor raised himself a little,leaning on one elbow in an awkward manner.

　　"You would like to put a question?" said the president, andhaving received an answer in the affirmative, he made a gestureinviting the public prosecutor to speak.

　　"I want to ask, was the prisoner previously acquainted withSimeon Kartinkin?" said the public prosecutor, without looking atMaslova, and, having put the question, he compressed his lips andfrowned.

　　The president repeated the question. Maslova stared at the publicprosecutor, with a frightened look.

　　"With Simeon? Yes," she said.

　　"I should like to know what the prisoner's acquaintance withKartinkin consisted in. Did they meet often?"

　　"Consisted in? . . .

　　"He invited me for the lodgers; it was not an acquaintance atall," answered Maslova, anxiously moving her eyes from thepresident to the public prosecutor and back to the president.

　　"I should like to know why Kartinkin invited only Maslova, andnone of the other girls, for the lodgers?" said the publicprosecutor, with half-closed eyes and a cunning, Mephistopheliansmile.

　　"I don't know. How should I know?" said Maslova, casting afrightened look round, and fixing her eyes for a moment onNekhludoff. "He asked whom he liked."

　　"Is it possible that she has recognised me?" thought Nekhludoff,and the blood rushed to his face. But Maslova turned away withoutdistinguishing him from the others, and again fixed her eyesanxiously on the public prosecutor.

　　"So the prisoner denies having had any intimate relations withKartinkin? Very well, I have no more questions to ask."

　　And the public prosecutor took his elbow off the desk, and beganwriting something. He was not really noting anything down, butonly going over the letters of his notes with a pen, having seenthe procureur and leading advocates, after putting a cleverquestion, make a note, with which, later on, to annihilate theiradversaries.

　　The president did not continue at once, because he was consultingthe member with the spectacles, whether he was agreed that thequestions (which had all been prepared be forehand and writtenout) should be put.

　　"Well! What happened next?" he then went on.

　　"I came home," looking a little more boldly only at thepresident, "and went to bed. Hardly had I fallen asleep when oneof our girls, Bertha, woke me. 'Go, your merchant has comeagain!' He"--she again uttered the word HE with evident horror--"he kept treating our girls, and then wanted to send for morewine, but his money was all gone, and he sent me to his lodgingsand told me where the money was, and how much to take. So Iwent."

　　The president was whispering to the member on his left, but, inorder to appear as if he had heard, he repeated her last words.

　　"So you went. Well, what next?"

　　"I went, and did all he told me; went into his room. I did not goalone, but called Simeon Kartinkin and her," she said, pointingto Botchkova.

　　"That's a lie; I never went in," Botchkova began, but wasstopped.

　　"In their presence I took out four notes," continued Maslova,frowning, without looking at Botchkova.

　　"Yes, but did the prisoner notice," again asked the prosecutor,"how much money there was when she was getting out the 40roubles?"

　　Maslova shuddered when the prosecutor addressed her; she did notknow why it was, but she felt that he wished her evil.

　　"I did not count it, but only saw some 100-rouble notes."

　　"Ah! The prisoner saw 100-rouble notes. That's all?"

　　"Well, so you brought back the money," continued the president,looking at the clock.

　　"I did."

　　"Well, and then?"

　　"Then he took me back with him," said Maslova.

　　"Well, and how did you give him the powder?, In his drink?"

　　"How did I give it? I put them in and gave it him."

　　Why did you give it him?"

　　She did not answer, but sighed deeply and heavily.

　　"He would not let me go," she said, after a moment's silence,"and I was quite tired out, and so I went out into the passageand said to Simeon, 'If he would only let me go, I am so tired.'And he said, 'We are also sick of him; we were thinking of givinghim a sleeping draught; he will fall asleep, and then you cango.' So I said all right. I thought they were harmless, and hegave me the packet. I went in. He was lying behind the partition,and at once called for brandy. I took a bottle of 'finechampagne' from the table, poured out two glasses, one for himand one for myself, and put the powders into his glass, and gaveit him. Had I known how could I have given them to him?"

　　"Well, and how did the ring come into your possession? asked thepresident. "When did he give it you?"

　　"That was when we came back to his lodgings. I wanted to go away,and he gave me a knock on the head and broke my comb. I got angryand said I'd go away, and he took the ring off his finger andgave it to me so that I should not go," she said.

　　Then the public prosecutor again slightly raised himself, and,putting on an air of simplicity, asked permission to put a fewmore questions, and, having received it, bending his head overhis embroidered collar, he said: "I should like to know how longthe prisoner remained in the merchant Smelkoff's room."

　　Maslova again seemed frightened, and she again looked anxiouslyfrom the public prosecutor to the president, and said hurriedly:

　　"I do not remember how long."

　　"Yes, but does the prisoner remember if she went anywhere else inthe lodging-house after she left Smelkoff?"

　　Maslova considered for a moment. "Yes, I did go into an emptyroom next to his."

　　"Yes, and why did you go in?" asked the public prosecutor,forgetting himself, and addressing her directly.

　　"I went in to rest a bit, and to wait for an isvostchik."

　　"And was Kartinkin in the room with the prisoner, or not?"

　　"He came in."

　　"Why did he come in?"

　　"There was some of the merchant's brandy left, and we finished ittogether."

　　"Oh, finished it together. Very well! And did the prisoner talkto Kartinkin, and, if so, what about?"

　　Maslova suddenly frowned, blushed very red, and said, hurriedly,"What about? I did not talk about anything, and that's all Iknow. Do what you like with me; I am not guilty, and that's all."

　　"I have nothing more to ask," said the prosecutor, and, drawingup his shoulders in an unnatural manner, began writing down, asthe prisoner's own evidence, in the notes for his speech, thatshe had been in the empty room with Kartinkin.

　　There was a short silence.

　　"You have nothing more to say?"

　　"I have told everything," she said, with a sigh, and sat down.

　　Then the president noted something down, and, having listened tosomething that the member on his left whispered to him, heannounced a ten-minutes' interval, rose hurriedly, and left thecourt. The communication he had received from the tall, beardedmember with the kindly eyes was that the member, having felt aslight stomach derangement, wished to do a little massage and totake some drops. And this was why an interval was made.

　　When the judges had risen, the advocates, the jury, and thewitnesses also rose, with the pleasant feeling that part of thebusiness was finished, and began moving in different directions.

　　Nekhludoff went into the jury's room, and sat down by the window.

　　CHAPTER XII.

　　TWELVE YEARS BEFORE.

　　"Yes, this was Katusha."

　　The relations between Nekhludoff and Katusha had been thefollowing:

　　Nekhludoff first saw Katusha when he was a student in his thirdyear at the University, and was preparing an essay on land tenureduring the summer vacation, which he passed with his aunts. Untilthen he had always lived, in summer, with his mother and sisteron his mother's large estate near Moscow. But that year hissister had married, and his mother had gone abroad to awatering-place, and he, having his essay to write, resolved tospend the summer with his aunts. It was very quiet in theirsecluded estate and there was nothing to distract his mind; hisaunts loved their nephew and heir very tenderly, and he, too, wasfond of them and of their simple, old-fashioned life.

　　During that summer on his aunts' estate, Nekhludoff passedthrough that blissful state of existence when a young man for thefirst time, without guidance from any one outside, realises allthe beauty and significance of life, and the importance of thetask allotted in it to man; when he grasps the possibility ofunlimited advance towards perfection for one's self and for allthe world, and gives himself to this task, not only hopefully,but with full conviction of attaining to the perfection heimagines. In that year, while still at the University, he hadread Spencer's Social Statics, and Spencer's views on landholdingespecially impressed him, as he himself was heir to largeestates. His father had not been rich, but his mother hadreceived 10,000 acres of land for her dowry. At that time hefully realised all the cruelty and injustice of private propertyin land, and being one of those to whom a sacrifice to thedemands of conscience gives the highest spiritual enjoyment, hedecided not to retain property rights, but to give up to thepeasant labourers the land he had inherited from his father. Itwas on this land question he wrote his essay.

　　He arranged his life on his aunts' estate in the followingmanner. He got up very early, sometimes at three o'clock, andbefore sunrise went through the morning mists to bathe in theriver, under the hill. He returned while the dew still lay on thegrass and the flowers. Sometimes, having finished his coffee, hesat down with his books of reference and his papers to write hisessay, but very often, instead of reading or writing, he lefthome again, and wandered through the fields and the woods. Beforedinner he lay down and slept somewhere in the garden. At dinnerhe amused and entertained his aunts with his bright spirits, thenhe rode on horseback or went for a row on the river, and in theevening he again worked at his essay, or sat reading or playingpatience with his aunts.

　　His joy in life was so great that it agitated him, and kept himawake many a night, especially when it was moonlight, so thatinstead of sleeping he wandered about in the garden till dawn,alone with his dreams and fancies.

　　And so, peacefully and happily, he lived through the first monthof his stay with his aunts, taking no particular notice of theirhalf-ward, half-servant, the black-eyed, quick-footed Katusha.Then, at the age of nineteen, Nekhludoff, brought up under hismother's wing, was still quite pure. If a woman figured in hisdreams at all it was only as a wife. All the other women, who,according to his ideas he could not marry, were not women forhim, but human beings.

　　But on Ascension Day that summer, a neighbour of his aunts', andher family, consisting of two young daughters, a schoolboy, and ayoung artist of peasant origin who was staying with them, came tospend the day. After tea they all went to play in the meadow infront of the house, where the grass had already been mown. Theyplayed at the game of gorelki, and Katusha joined them. Runningabout and changing partners several times, Nekhludoff caughtKatusha, and she became his partner. Up to this time he had likedKatusha's looks, but the possibility of any nearer relations withher had never entered his mind.

　　"Impossible to catch those two," said the merry young artist,whose turn it was to catch, and who could run very fast with hisshort, muscular legs.

　　"You! And not catch us?" said Katusha.

　　"One, two, three," and the artist clapped his hands. Katusha,hardly restraining her laughter, changed places with Nekhludoff,behind the artist's back, and pressing his large hand with herlittle rough one, and rustling with her starched petticoat, ranto the left. Nekhludoff ran fast to the right, trying to escapefrom the artist, but when he looked round he saw the artistrunning after Katusha, who kept well ahead, her firm young legsmoving rapidly. There was a lilac bush in front of them, andKatusha made a sign with her head to Nekhludoff to join herbehind it, for if they once clasped hands again they were safefrom their pursuer, that being a rule of the game. He understoodthe sign, and ran behind the bush, but he did not know that therewas a small ditch overgrown with nettles there. He stumbled andfell into the nettles, already wet with dew, stinging his bands,but rose immediately, laughing at his mishap.

　　Katusha, with her eyes black as sloes, her face radiant with joy,was flying towards him, and they caught hold of each other'shands.

　　"Got stung, I daresay?" she said, arranging her hair with herfree hand, breathing fast and looking straight up at him with aglad, pleasant smile.

　　"I did not know there was a ditch here," he answered, smilingalso, and keeping her hand in his. She drew nearer to him, and hehimself, not knowing how it happened, stooped towards her. Shedid not move away, and he pressed her hand tight and kissed heron the lips.

　　"There! You've done it!" she said; and, freeing her hand with aswift movement, ran away from him. Then, breaking two branches ofwhite lilac from which the blossoms were already falling, shebegan fanning her hot face with them; then, with her head turnedback to him, she walked away, swaying her arms briskly in frontof her, and joined the other players.

　　After this there grew up between Nekhludoff and Katusha thosepeculiar relations which often exist between a pure young man andgirl who are attracted to each other.

　　When Katusha came into the room, or even when he saw her whiteapron from afar, everything brightened up in Nekhludoff's eyes,as when the sun appears everything becomes more interesting, morejoyful, more important. The whole of life seemed full ofgladness. And she felt the same. But it was not only Katusha'spresence that had this effect on Nekhludoff. The mere thoughtthat Katusha existed (and for her that Nekhludoff existed) hadthis effect.

　　When he received an unpleasant letter from his mother, or couldnot get on with his essay, or felt the unreasoning sadness thatyoung people are often subject to, he had only to rememberKatusha and that he should see her, and it all vanished. Katushahad much work to do in the house, but she managed to get a littleleisure for reading, and Nekhludoff gave her Dostoievsky andTourgeneff (whom he had just read himself) to read. She likedTourgeneff's Lull best. They had talks at moments snatched whenmeeting in the passage, on the veranda, or the yard, andsometimes in the room of his aunts' old servant, MatronaPavlovna, with whom he sometimes used to drink tea, and whereKatusha used to work.

　　These talks in Matrona Pavlovna's presence were the pleasantest.When they were alone it was worse. Their eyes at once began tosay something very different and far more important than whattheir mouths uttered. Their lips puckered, and they felt a kindof dread of something that made them part quickly. Theserelations continued between Nekhludoff and Katusha during thewhole time of his first visit to his aunts'. They noticed it, andbecame frightened, and even wrote to Princess Elena Ivanovna,Nekhludoff's mother. His aunt, Mary Ivanovna, was afraid Dmitriwould form an intimacy with Katusha; but her fears weregroundless, for Nekhludoff, himself hardly conscious of it, lovedKatusha, loved her as the pure love, and therein lay hissafety--his and hers. He not only did not feel any desire topossess her, but the very thought of it filled him with horror.The fears of the more poetical Sophia Ivanovna, that Dmitri, withhis thoroughgoing, resolute character, having fallen in love witha girl, might make up his mind to marry her, without consideringeither her birth or her station, had more ground.

　　Had Nekhludoff at that time been conscious of his love forKatusha, and especially if he had been told that he could on noaccount join his life with that of a girl in her position, itmight have easily happened that, with his usual straight-forwardness, he would have come to the conclusion that therecould be no possible reason for him not to marry any girlwhatever, as long as he loved her. But his aunts did notmention their fears to him; and, when he left, he was stillunconscious of his love for Katusha. He was sure that what hefelt for Katusha was only one of the manifestations of the joy oflife that filled his whole being, and that this sweet, merrylittle girl shared this joy with him. Yet, when he was goingaway, and Katusha stood with his aunts in the porch, and lookedafter him, her dark, slightly-squinting eyes filled with tears,he felt, after all, that he was leaving something beautiful,precious, something which would never reoccur. And he grew verysad.

　　"Good-bye, Katusha," he said, looking across Sophia Ivanovna'scap as he was getting into the trap. "Thank you for everything."

　　"Good-bye, Dmitri Ivanovitch," she said, with her pleasant,tender voice, keeping back the tears that filled her eyes--andran away into the hall, where she could cry in peace.

　　CHAPTER XIII.

　　LIFE IN THE ARMY.

　　After that Nekhludoff did not see Katusha for more than threeyears. When he saw her again he had just been promoted to therank of officer and was going to join his regiment. On the way hecame to spend a few days with his aunts, being now a verydifferent young man from the one who had spent the summer withthem three years before. He then had been an honest, unselfishlad, ready to sacrifice himself for any good cause; now he wasdepraved and selfish, and thought only of his own enjoyment. ThenGod's world seemed a mystery which he tried enthusiastically andjoyfully to solve; now everything in life seemed clear andsimple, defined by the conditions of the life he was leading.Then he had felt the importance of, and had need of intercoursewith, nature, and with those who had lived and thought and feltbefore him--philosophers and poets. What he now considerednecessary and important were human institutions and intercoursewith his comrades. Then women seemed mysterious andcharming--charming by the very mystery that enveloped them; nowthe purpose of women, all women except those of his own familyand the wives of his friends, was a very definite one: women werethe best means towards an already experienced enjoyment. Thenmoney was not needed, and he did not require even one-third ofwhat his mother allowed him; but now this allowance of 1,500roubles a month did not suffice, and he had already had someunpleasant talks about it with his mother.

　　Then he had looked on his spirit as the I; now it was his healthystrong animal I that he looked upon as himself.

　　And all this terrible change had come about because he had ceasedto believe himself and had taken to believing others. This he haddone because it was too difficult to live believing one's self;believing one's self, one had to decide every question not infavour of one's own animal life, which is always seeking for easygratifications, but almost in every case against it. Believingothers there was nothing to decide; everything had been decidedalready, and decided always in favour of the animal I and againstthe spiritual. Nor was this all. Believing in his own self he wasalways exposing himself to the censure of those around him;believing others he had their approval. So, when Nekhludoff hadtalked of the serious matters of life, of God, truth, riches, andpoverty, all round him thought it out of place and even ratherfunny, and his mother and aunts called him, with kindly irony,notre cher philosophe. But when he read novels, told improperanecdotes, went to see funny vaudevilles in the French theatreand gaily repeated the jokes, everybody admired and encouragedhim. When he considered it right to limit his needs, wore an oldovercoat, took no wine, everybody thought it strange and lookedupon it as a kind of showing off; but when he spent large sums onhunting, or on furnishing a peculiar and luxurious study forhimself, everybody admired his taste and gave him expensivepresents to encourage his hobby. While he kept pure and meant toremain so till he married his friends prayed for his health, andeven his mother was not grieved but rather pleased when she foundout that he had become a real man and had gained over some Frenchwoman from his friend. (As to the episode with Katusha, theprincess could not without horror think that he might possiblyhave married her.) In the same way, when Nekhludoff came of age,and gave the small estate he had inherited from his father to thepeasants because he considered the holding of private property inland wrong, this step filled his mother and relations with dismayand served as an excuse for making fun of him to all hisrelatives. He was continually told that these peasants, afterthey had received the land, got no richer, but, on the contrary,poorer, having opened three public-houses and left off doing anywork. But when Nekhludoff entered the Guards and spent andgambled away so much with his aristocratic companions that ElenaIvanovna, his mother, had to draw on her capital, she was hardlypained, considering it quite natural and even good that wild oatsshould be sown at an early age and in good company, as her sonwas doing. At first Nekhludoff struggled, but all that he hadconsidered good while he had faith in himself was considered badby others, and what he had considered evil was looked upon asgood by those among whom he lived, and the struggle grew toohard. And at last Nekhludoff gave in, i.e., left off believinghimself and began believing others. At first this giving up offaith in himself was unpleasant, but it did not long continue tobe so. At that time he acquired the habit of smoking, anddrinking wine, and soon got over this unpleasant feeling and evenfelt great relief.

　　Nekhludoff, with his passionate nature, gave himself thoroughlyto the new way of life so approved of by all those around, and heentirely stifled the inner voice which demanded somethingdifferent. This began after he moved to St. Petersburg, andreached its highest point when he entered the army.

　　Military life in general depraves men. It places them inconditions of complete idleness, i.e., absence of all usefulwork; frees them of their common human duties, which it replacesby merely conventional ones to the honour of the regiment, theuniform, the flag; and, while giving them on the one handabsolute power over other men, also puts them into conditions ofservile obedience to those of higher rank than themselves.

　　But when, to the usual depraving influence of military servicewith its honours, uniforms, flags, its permitted violence andmurder, there is added the depraving influence of riches andnearness to and intercourse with members of the Imperial family,as is the case in the chosen regiment of the Guards in which allthe officers are rich and of good family, then this depravinginfluence creates in the men who succumb to it a perfect mania ofselfishness. And this mania of selfishness attacked Nekhludofffrom the moment he entered the army and began living in the wayhis companions lived. He had no occupation whatever except todress in a uniform, splendidly made and well brushed by otherpeople, and, with arms also made and cleaned and handed to him byothers, ride to reviews on a fine horse which had been bred,broken in and fed by others. There, with other men like himself,he had to wave a sword, shoot off guns, and teach others to dothe same. He had no other work, and the highly-placed persons,young and old, the Tsar and those near him, not only sanctionedhis occupation but praised and thanked him for it.

　　After this was done, it was thought important to eat, andparticularly to drink, in officers' clubs or the salons of thebest restaurants, squandering large sums of money, which camefrom some invisible source; then theatres, ballets, women, thenagain riding on horseback, waving of swords and shooting, andagain the squandering of money, the wine, cards, and women. Thiskind of life acts on military men even more depravingly than onothers, because if any other than a military man lead such a lifehe cannot help being ashamed of it in the depth of his heart. Amilitary man is, on the contrary, proud of a life of this kindespecially at war time, and Nekhludoff had entered the army justafter war with the Turks had been declared. "We are prepared tosacrifice our lives at the wars, and therefore a gay, recklesslife is not only pardonable, but absolutely necessary for us, andso we lead it."

　　Such were Nekhludoff's confused thoughts at this period of hisexistence, and he felt all the time the delight of being free ofthe moral barriers he had formerly set himself. And the state helived in was that of a chronic mania of selfishness. He was inthis state when, after three years' absence, he came again tovisit his aunts.

　　CHAPTER XIV.

　　THE SECOND MEETING WITH MASLOVA.

　　Nekhludoff went to visit his aunts because their estate lay nearthe road he had to travel in order to join his regiment, whichhad gone forward, because they had very warmly asked him to come,and especially because he wanted to see Katusha. Perhaps in hisheart he had already formed those evil designs against Katushawhich his now uncontrolled animal self suggested to him, but hedid not acknowledge this as his intention, but only wished to goback to the spot where he had been so happy, to see his ratherfunny, but dear, kind-hearted old aunts, who always, without hisnoticing it, surrounded him with an atmosphere of love andadmiration, and to see sweet Katusha, of whom he had retained sopleasant a memory.

　　He arrived at the end of March, on Good Friday, after the thawhad set in. It was pouring with rain so that he had not a drythread on him and was feeling very cold, but yet vigorous andfull of spirits, as always at that time. "Is she still withthem?" he thought, as he drove into the familiar, old-fashionedcourtyard, surrounded by a low brick wall, and now filled withsnow off the roofs.

　　He expected she would come out when she heard the sledge bellsbut she did not. Two bare-footed women with pails and tucked-upskirts, who had evidently been scrubbing the floors, came out ofthe side door. She was not at the front door either, and onlyTikhon, the man-servant, with his apron on, evidently also busycleaning, came out into the front porch. His aunt Sophia Ivanovnaalone met him in the ante-room; she had a silk dress on and a capon her head. Both aunts had been to church and had receivedcommunion.

　　"Well, this is nice of you to come," said Sophia Ivanovna,kissing him. "Mary is not well, got tired in church; we have beento communion."

　　"I congratulate you, Aunt Sophia," [it is usual in Russia tocongratulate those who have received communion] said Nekhludoff,kissing Sophia Ivanovna's hand. "Oh, I beg your pardon, I havemade you wet."

　　"Go to your room--why you are soaking wet. Dear me, you have gotmoustaches! . . . Katusha! Katusha! Get him some coffee; bequick."

　　"Directly," came the sound of a well-known, pleasant voice fromthe passage, and Nekhludoff's heart cried out "She's here!" andit was as if the sun had come out from behind the clouds.

　　Nekhludoff, followed by Tikhon, went gaily to his old room tochange his things. He felt inclined to ask Tikhon about Katusha;how she was, what she was doing, was she not going to be married?But Tikhon was so respectful and at the same time so severe,insisted so firmly on pouring the water out of the jug for him,that Nekhludoff could not make up his mind to ask him aboutKatusha, but only inquired about Tikhon's grandsons, about theold so-called "brother's" horse, and about the dog Polkan. Allwere alive except Polkan, who had gone mad the summer before.

　　When he had taken off all his wet things and just begun to dressagain, Nekhludoff heard quick, familiar footsteps and a knock atthe door. Nekhludoff knew the steps and also the knock. No onebut she walked and knocked like that.

　　Having thrown his wet greatcoat over his shoulders, he opened thedoor.

　　"Come in." It was she, Katusha, the same, only sweeter thanbefore. The slightly squinting naive black eyes looked up in thesame old way. Now as then, she had on a white apron. She broughthim from his aunts a piece of scented soap, with the wrapper justtaken off, and two towels--one a long Russian embroidered one,the other a bath towel. The unused soap with the stampedinscription, the towels, and her own self, all were equallyclean, fresh, undefiled and pleasant. The irrepressible smile ofjoy at the sight of him made the sweet, firm lips pucker up as ofold.

　　"How do you do, Dmitri Ivanovitch?" she uttered with difficulty,her face suffused with a rosy blush.

　　"Good-morning! How do you do?" he said, also blushing. "Alive andwell?"

　　Yes, the Lord be thanked. And here is your favorite pink soap andtowels from your aunts," she said, putting the soap on the tableand hanging the towels over the back of a chair.

　　"There is everything here," said Tikhon, defending the visitor'sindependence, and pointing to Nekhludoff's open dressing casefilled with brushes, perfume, fixatoire, a great many bottleswith silver lids and all sorts of toilet appliances.

　　"Thank my aunts, please. Oh, how glad I am to be here," saidNekhludoff, his heart filling with light and tenderness as ofold.

　　She only smiled in answer to these words, and went out. Theaunts, who had always loved Nekhludoff, welcomed him this timemore warmly than ever. Dmitri was going to the war, where hemight be wounded or killed, and this touched the old aunts.Nekhludoff had arranged to stay only a day and night with hisaunts, but when he had seen Katusha he agreed to stay over Easterwith them and telegraphed to his friend Schonbock, whom he was tohave joined in Odessa, that he should come and meet him at hisaunts' instead.

　　As soon as he had seen Katusha Nekhludoff's old feelings towardher awoke again. Now, just as then, he could not see her whiteapron without getting excited; he could not listen to her steps,her voice, her laugh, without a feeling of joy; he could not lookat her eyes, black as sloes, without a feeling of tenderness,especially when she smiled; and, above all, he could not noticewithout agitation how she blushed when they met. He felt he wasin love, but not as before, when this love was a kind of mysteryto him and he would not own, even to himself, that he loved, andwhen he was persuaded that one could love only once; now he knewhe was in love and was glad of it, and knew dimly what this loveconsisted of and what it might lead to, though he sought toconceal it even from himself. In Nekhludoff, as in every man,there were two beings: one the spiritual, seeking only that kindof happiness for him self which should tend towards the happinessof all; the other, the animal man, seeking only his ownhappiness, and ready to sacrifice to it the happiness of the restof the world. At this period of his mania of self-love brought onby life in Petersburg and in the army, this animal man ruledsupreme and completely crushed the spiritual man in him.

　　But when he saw Katusha and experienced the same feelings as hehad had three years before, the spiritual man in him raised itshead once more and began to assert its rights. And up to Easter,during two whole days, an unconscious, ceaseless inner strugglewent on in him.

　　He knew in the depths of his soul that he ought to go away, thatthere was no real reason for staying on with his aunts, knew thatno good could come of it; and yet it was so pleasant, sodelightful, that he did not honestly acknowledge the facts tohimself and stayed on. On Easter eve, the priest and the deaconwho came to the house to say mass had had (so they said) thegreatest difficulty in getting over the three miles that laybetween the church and the old ladies' house, coming across thepuddles and the bare earth in a sledge.

　　Nekhludoff attended the mass with his aunts and the servants, andkept looking at Katusha, who was near the door and brought in thecensers for the priests. Then having given the priests and hisaunts the Easter kiss, though it was not midnight and thereforenot Easter yet, he was already going to bed when he heard the oldservant Matrona Pavlovna preparing to go to the church to get thekoulitch and paski [Easter cakes] blest after the midnightservice. "I shall go too," he thought.

　　The road to the church was impassable either in a sledge or onwheels, so Nekhludoff, who behaved in his aunts' house just as hedid at home, ordered the old horse, "the brother's horse," to besaddled, and instead of going to bed he put on his gay uniform, apair of tight-fitting riding breeches and his overcoat, and goton the old over-fed and heavy horse, which neighed continuallyall the way as he rode in the dark through the puddles and snowto the church.

　　CHAPTER XV.

　　THE EARLY MASS.

　　For Nekhludoff this early mass remained for ever after one of thebrightest and most vivid memories of his life. When he rode outof the darkness, broken only here and there by patches of whitesnow, into the churchyard illuminated by a row of lamps aroundthe church, the service had already begun.

　　The peasants, recognising Mary Ivanovna's nephew, led his horse,which was pricking up its cars at the sight of the lights, to adry place where he could get off, put it up for him, and showedhim into the church, which was full of people. On the right stoodthe peasants; the old men in home-spun coats, and clean whitelinen bands [long strips of linen are worn by the peasants insteadof stockings] wrapped round their legs, the young men in newcloth coats, bright-coloured belts round their waists, andtop-boots.

　　On the left stood the women, with red silk kerchiefs on theirheads, black velveteen sleeveless jackets, bright redshirt-sleeves, gay-coloured green, blue, and red skirts, andthick leather boots. The old women, dressed more quietly, stoodbehind them, with white kerchiefs, homespun coats, old-fashionedskirts of dark home-spun material, and shoes on their feet.Gaily-dressed children, their hair well oiled, went in and outamong them.

　　The men, making the sign of the cross, bowed down and raisedtheir heads again, shaking back their hair.

　　The women, especially the old ones, fixed their eyes on an iconsurrounded with candies and made the sign of the cross, firmlypressing their folded fingers to the kerchief on their foreheads,to their shoulders, and their stomachs, and, whisperingsomething, stooped or knelt down. The children, imitating thegrown-up people, prayed earnestly when they knew that they werebeing observed. The gilt case containing the icon glittered,illuminated on all sides by tall candles ornamented with goldenspirals. The candelabra was filled with tapers, and from thechoir sounded most merry tunes sung by amateur choristers, withbellowing bass and shrill boys' voices among them.

　　Nekhludoff passed up to the front. In the middle of the churchstood the aristocracy of the place: a landed proprietor, with hiswife and son (the latter dressed in a sailor's suit), the policeofficer, the telegraph clerk, a tradesman in top-boots, and thevillage elder, with a medal on his breast; and to the right ofthe ambo, just behind the landed proprietor's wife, stood MatronaPavlovna in a lilac dress and fringed shawl and Katusha in awhite dress with a tucked bodice, blue sash, and red bow in herblack hair.

　　Everything seemed festive, solemn, bright, and beautiful: thepriest in his silver cloth vestments with gold crosses; thedeacon, the clerk and chanter in their silver and gold surplices;the amateur choristers in their best clothes, with theirwell-oiled hair; the merry tunes of the holiday hymns thatsounded like dance music; and the continual blessing of thepeople by the priests, who held candles decorated with flowers,and repeated the cry of "Christ is risen!" "Christ is risen!" Allwas beautiful; but, above all, Katusha, in her white dress, bluesash, and the red bow on her black head, her eyes beaming withrapture.

　　Nekhludoff knew that she felt his presence without looking athim. He noticed this as he passed her, walking up to the altar.He had nothing to tell her, but he invented something to say andwhispered as he passed her: "Aunt told me that she would breakher fast after the late mass." The young blood rushed up toKatusha's sweet face, as it always did when she looked at him.The black eyes, laughing and full of joy, gazed naively up andremained fixed on Nekhludoff.

　　"I know," she said, with a smile.

　　At this moment the clerk was going out with a copper coffee-pot[coffee-pots are often used for holding holy water in Russia] ofholy water in his hand, and, not noticing Katusha, brushed herwith his surplice. Evidently he brushed against Katusha throughwishing to pass Nekhludoff at a respectful distance, andNekhludoff was surprised that he, the clerk, did not understandthat everything here, yes, and in all the world, only existed forKatusha, and that everything else might remain unheeded, only notshe, because she was the centre of all. For her the goldglittered round the icons; for her all these candles incandelabra and candlesticks were alight; for her were sung thesejoyful hymns, "Behold the Passover of the Lord" "Rejoice, O yepeople!" All--all that was good in the world was for her. And itseemed to him that Katusha was aware that it was all for her whenhe looked at her well-shaped figure, the tucked white dress, thewrapt, joyous expression of her face, by which he knew that justexactly the same that was singing in his own soul was alsosinging in hers.

　　In the interval between the early and the late mass Nekhludoffleft the church. The people stood aside to let him pass, andbowed. Some knew him; others asked who he was.

　　He stopped on the steps. The beggars standing there cameclamouring round him, and he gave them all the change he had inhis purse and went down. It was dawning, but the sun had not yetrisen. The people grouped round the graves in the churchyard.Katusha had remained inside. Nekhludoff stood waiting for her.

　　The people continued coming out, clattering with their nailedboots on the stone steps and dispersing over the churchyard. Avery old man with shaking head, his aunts' cook, stoppedNekhludoff in order to give him the Easter kiss, his old wifetook an egg, dyed yellow, out of her handkerchief and gave it toNekhludoff, and a smiling young peasant in a new coat and greenbelt also came up.

　　"Christ is risen," he said, with laughing eyes, and coming closeto Nekhludoff he enveloped him in his peculiar but pleasantpeasant smell, and, tickling him with his curly beard, kissed himthree times straight on the mouth with his firm, fresh lips.

　　While the peasant was kissing Nekhludoff and giving him a darkbrown egg, the lilac dress of Matrona Pavlovna and the dear blackhead with the red bow appeared.

　　Katusha caught sight of him over the heads of those in front ofher, and he saw how her face brightened up.

　　She had come out with Matrona Pavlovna on to the porch, andstopped there distributing alms to the beggars. A beggar with ared scab in place of a nose came up to Katusha. She gave himsomething, drew nearer him, and, evincing no sign of disgust, buther eyes still shining with joy, kissed him three times. Andwhile she was doing this her eyes met Nekhludoff's with a look asif she were asking, "Is this that I am doing right?" "Yes, dear,yes, it is right; everything is right, everything is beautiful. Ilove!"

　　They came down the steps of the porch, and he came up to them.

　　He did not mean to give them the Easter kiss, but only to benearer to her. Matrona Pavlovna bowed her head, and said with asmile, "Christ is risen!" and her tone implied, "To-day we areall equal." She wiped her mouth with her handkerchief rolled intoa ball and stretched her lips towards him.

　　"He is, indeed," answered Nekhludoff, kissing her. Then he lookedat Katusha; she blushed, and drew nearer. "Christ is risen,Dmitri Ivanovitch." "He is risen, indeed," answered Nekhludoff,and they kissed twice, then paused as if considering whether athird kiss were necessary, and, having decided that it was,kissed a third time and smiled.

　　"You are going to the priests?" asked Nekhludoff.

　　"No, we shall sit out here a bit, Dmitri Ivanovitch," saidKatusha with effort, as if she had accomplished some joyous task,and, her whole chest heaving with a deep sigh, she lookedstraight in his face with a look of devotion, virgin purity, andlove, in her very slightly squinting eyes.

　　In the love between a man and a woman there always comes a momentwhen this love has reached its zenith--a moment when it isunconscious, unreasoning, and with nothing sensual about it. Sucha moment had come for Nekhludoff on that Easter eve. When hebrought Katusha back to his mind, now, this moment veiled allelse; the smooth glossy black head, the white tucked dressclosely fitting her graceful maidenly form, her, as yet,un-developed bosom, the blushing cheeks, the tender shining blackeyes with their slight squint heightened by the sleepless night,and her whole being stamped with those two marked features,purity and chaste love, love not only for him (he knew that), butfor everybody and everything, not for the good alone, but for allthat is in the world, even for that beggar whom she had kissed.

　　He knew she had that love in her because on that night andmorning he was conscious of it in himself, and conscious that inthis love he became one with her. Ah! if it had all stoppedthere, at the point it had reached that night. "Yes, all thathorrible business had not yet happened on that Easter eve!" hethought, as he sat by the window of the jurymen's room.

　　CHAPTER XVI.

　　THE FIRST STEP.

　　When he returned from church Nekhludoff broke the fast with hisaunts and took a glass of spirits and some wine, having got intothat habit while with his regiment, and when he reached his roomfell asleep at once, dressed as he was. He was awakened by aknock at the door. He knew it was her knock, and got up, rubbinghis eyes and stretching himself.

　　"Katusha, is it you? Come in," said he.

　　She opened the door.

　　"Dinner is ready," she said. She still had on the same whitedress, but not the bow in her hair. She looked at him with asmile, as if she had communicated some very good news to him.

　　"I am coming," he answered, as he rose, taking his comb toarrange his hair.

　　She stood still for a minute, and he, noticing it, threw down hiscomb and made a step towards her, but at that very moment sheturned suddenly and went with quick light steps along the stripof carpet in the middle of the passage.

　　"Dear me, what a fool I am," thought Nekhludoff. "Why did I notstop her?" What he wanted her for he did not know himself, but hefelt that when she came into his room something should have beendone, something that is generally done on such occasions, andthat he had left it undone.

　　"Katusha, wait," he said.

　　"What do you want?" she said, stopping.

　　"Nothing, only--" and, with an effort, remembering how men in hisposition generally behave, he put his arm round her waist.

　　She stood still and looked into his eyes.

　　"Don't, Dmitri Ivanovitch, you must not," she said, blushing totears and pushing away his arm with her strong hard hand.Nekhludoff let her go, and for a moment he felt not only confusedand ashamed but disgusted with himself. He should now havebelieved himself, and then he would have known that thisconfusion and shame were caused by the best feelings of his souldemanding to be set free; but he thought it was only hisstupidity and that he ought to behave as every one else did. Hecaught her up and kissed her on the neck.

　　This kiss was very different from that first thoughtless kissbehind the lilac bush, and very different to the kiss thismorning in the churchyard. This was a dreadful kiss, and she feltit.

　　"Oh, what are you doing?" she cried, in a tone as if he hadirreparably broken something of priceless value, and ran quicklyaway.

　　He came into the dining-room. His aunts, elegantly dressed, theirfamily doctor, and a neighbour were already there. Everythingseemed so very ordinary, but in Nekhludoff a storm was raging. Heunderstood nothing of what was being said and gave wrong answers,thinking only of Katusha. The sound of her steps in the passagebrought back the thrill of that last kiss and he could think ofnothing else. When she came into the room he, without lookinground, felt her presence with his whole being and had to forcehimself not to look at her.

　　After dinner he at once went into his bedroom and for a long timewalked up and down in great excitement, listening to every soundin the house and expecting to hear her steps. The animal maninside him had now not only lifted its head, but had succeeded intrampling under foot the spiritual man of the days of his firstvisit, and even of that every morning. That dreadful animal manalone now ruled over him.

　　Though he was watching for her all day he could not manage tomeet her alone. She was probably trying to evade him. In theevening, however, she was obliged to go into the room next tohis. The doctor had been asked to stay the night, and she had tomake his bed. When he heard her go in Nekhludoff followed her,treading softly and holding his breath as if he were going tocommit a crime.

　　She was putting a clean pillow-case on the pillow, holding it bytwo of its corners with her arms inside the pillow-case. Sheturned round and smiled, not a happy, joyful smile as before, butin a frightened, piteous way. The smile seemed to tell him thatwhat he was doing was wrong. He stopped for a moment. There wasstill the possibility of a struggle. The voice of his real lovefor her, though feebly, was still speaking of her, her feelings,her life. Another voice was saying, "Take care I don't let theopportunity for your own happiness, your own enjoyment, slip by!"And this second voice completely stifled the first. He went up toher with determination and a terrible, ungovernable animalpassion took possession of him.

　　With his arm round he made her sit down on the bed; and feelingthat there was something more to be done he sat down beside her.

　　"Dmitri Ivanovitch, dear! please let me go," she said, with apiteous voice. "Matrona Pavlovna is coming," she cried, tearingherself away. Some one was really coming to the door.

　　"Well, then, I'll come to you in the night," he whispered."You'll be alone?"

　　"What are you thinking of? On no account. No, no!" she said, butonly with her lips; the tremulous confusion of her whole beingsaid something very different.

　　It was Matrona Pavlovna who had come to the door. She came inwith a. blanket over her arm, looked reproachfully at Nekhludoff,and began scolding Katusha for having taken the wrong blanket.

　　Nekhludoff went out in silence, but he did not even feel ashamed.He could see by Matrona Pavlovna's face that she was blaming him,he knew that she was blaming him with reason and felt that he wasdoing wrong, but this novel, low animal excitement, having freeditself of all the old feelings of real love for Katusha, ruledsupreme, leaving room for nothing else. He went about as ifdemented all the evening, now into his aunts', then back into hisown room, then out into the porch, thinking all the time how hecould meet her alone; but she avoided him, and Matrona Pavlovnawatched her closely.

　　CHAPTER XVII.

　　NEKHLUDOFF AND KATUSHA.

　　AND so the evening passed and night came. The doctor went to bed.Nekhludoff's aunts had also retired, and he knew that MatronaPavlovna was now with them in their bedroom so that Katusha wassure to be alone in the maids' sitting-room. He again went outinto the porch. It was dark, damp and warm out of doors, and thatwhite spring mist which drives away the last snow, or is diffusedby the thawing of the last snow, filled the air. From the riverunder the hill, about a hundred steps from the front door, came astrange sound. It was the ice breaking. Nekhludoff came down thesteps and went up to the window of the maids' room, stepping overthe puddles on the bits of glazed snow. His heart was beating sofiercely in his breast that he seemed to hear it, his labouredbreath came and went in a burst of long-drawn sighs. In themaids' room a small lamp was burning, and Katusha sat alone bythe table, looking thoughtfully in front of her. Nekhludoff stooda long time without moving and waited to see what she, notknowing that she was observed, would do. For a minute or two shedid not move; then she lifted her eyes, smiled and shook her headas if chiding herself, then changed her pose and dropped both herarms on the table and again began gazing down in front of her. Hestood and looked at her, involuntarily listening to the beatingof his own heart and the strange sounds from the river. There onthe river, beneath the white mist, the unceasing labour went on,and sounds as of something sobbing, cracking, dropping, beingshattered to pieces mixed with the tinkling of the thin bits ofice as they broke against each other like glass.

　　There he stood, looking at Katusha's serious, suffering face,which betrayed the inner struggle of her soul, and he felt pityfor her; but, strange though it may seem, this pity onlyconfirmed him in his evil intention.

　　He knocked at the window. She started as if she had received anelectric shock, her whole body trembled, and a look of horrorcame into her face. Then she jumped up, approached the window andbrought her face up to the pane. The look of terror did not leaveher face even when, holding her hands up to her eyes likeblinkers and peering through the glass, she recognised him. Herface was unusually grave; he had never seen it so before. Shereturned his smile, but only in submission to him; there was nosmile in her soul, only fear. He beckoned her with his hand tocome out into the yard to him. But she shook her head andremained by the window. He brought his face close to the pane andwas going to call out to her, but at that moment she turned tothe door; evidently some one inside had called her. Nekhludoffmoved away from the window. The fog was so dense that five stepsfrom the house the windows could not be seen, but the light fromthe lamp shone red and huge out of a shapeless black mass. And onthe river the same strange sounds went on, sobbing and rustlingand cracking and tinkling. Somewhere in the fog, not far off, acock crowed; another answered, and then others, far in thevillage took up the cry till the sound of the crowing blendedinto one, while all around was silent excepting the river. It wasthe second time the cocks crowed that night.

　　Nekhludoff walked up and down behind the corner of the house, andonce or twice got into a puddle. Then again came up to thewindow. The lamp was still burning, and she was again sittingalone by the table as if uncertain what to do. He had hardlyapproached the window when she looked up. He knocked. Withoutlooking who it was she at once ran out of the room, and he heardthe outside door open with a snap. He waited for her near theside porch and put his arms round her without saying a word. Sheclung to him, put up her face, and met his kiss with her lips.Then the door again gave the same sort of snap and opened, andthe voice of Matrona Pavlovna called out angrily, "Katusha!"

　　She tore herself away from him and returned into the maids' room.He heard the latch click, and then all was quiet. The red lightdisappeared and only the mist remained, and the bustle on theriver went on. Nekhludoff went up to the window, nobody was to beseen; he knocked, but got no answer. He went back into the houseby the front door, but could not sleep. He got up and went withbare feet along the passage to her door, next Matrona Pavlovna'sroom. He heard Matrona Pavlovna snoring quietly, and was about togo on when she coughed and turned on her creaking bed, and hisheart fell, and he stood immovable for about five minutes. Whenall was quiet and she began to snore peacefully again, he wenton, trying to step on the boards that did not creak, and came toKatusha's door. There was no sound to be heard. She was probablyawake, or else he would have heard her breathing. But as soon ashe had whispered "Katusha" she jumped up and began to persuadehim, as if angrily, to go away.

　　"Open! Let me in just for a moment! I implore you! He hardly knewwhat he was saying.

　　* * * * * * *

　　When she left him, trembling and silent, giving no answer to hiswords, he again went out into the porch and stood trying tounderstand the meaning of what had happened.

　　It was getting lighter. From the river below the creaking andtinkling and sobbing of the breaking ice came still louder and agurgling sound could now also be heard. The mist had begun tosink, and from above it the waning moon dimly lighted upsomething black and weird.

　　"What was the meaning of it all? Was it a great joy or a greatmisfortune that had befallen him?" he asked himself.

　　CHAPTER XVIII.

　　AFTERWARDS.

　　The next day the gay, handsome, and brilliant Schonbock joinedNekhludoff at his aunts' house, and quite won their hearts by hisrefined and amiable manner, his high spirits, his generosity, andhis affection for Dmitri.

　　But though the old ladies admired his generosity it ratherperplexed them, for it seemed exaggerated. He gave a rouble tosome blind beggars who came to the gate, gave 15 roubles in tipsto the servants, and when Sophia Ivanovna's pet dog hurt his pawand it bled, he tore his hemstitched cambric handkerchief intostrips (Sophia Ivanovna knew that such handkerchiefs cost atleast 15 roubles a dozen) and bandaged the dog's foot. The oldladies had never met people of this kind, and did not know thatSchonbock owed 200,000 roubles which he was never going to pay,and that therefore 25 roubles more or less did not matter a bitto him. Schonbock stayed only one day, and he and Nekhludoffboth, left at night. They could not stay away from their regimentany longer, for their leave was fully up.

　　At the stage which Nekhludoff's selfish mania had now reached hecould think of nothing but himself. He was wondering whether hisconduct, if found out, would be blamed much or at all, but he didnot consider what Katusha was now going through, and what wasgoing to happen to her.

　　He saw that Schonbock guessed his relations to her and thisflattered his vanity.

　　"Ah, I see how it is you have taken such a sudden fancy to youraunts that you have been living nearly a week with them,"Schonbock remarked when he had seen Katusha. "Well, I don'twonder--should have done the same. She's charming." Nekhludoffwas also thinking that though it was a pity to go away beforehaving fully gratified the cravings of his love for her, yet theabsolute necessity of parting had its advantages because it put asudden stop to relations it would have been very difficult forhim to continue. Then he thought that he ought to give her somemoney, not for her, not because she might need it, but because itwas the thing to do.

　　So he gave her what seemed to him a liberal amount, consideringhis and her station. On the day of his departure, after dinner,he went out and waited for her at the side entrance. She flushedup when she saw him and wished to pass by, directing hisattention to the open door of the maids' room by a look, but hestopped her.

　　"I have come to say good-bye," he said, crumbling in his hand anenvelope with a 100-rouble note inside. "There, I" . . .

　　She guessed what he meant, knit her brows, and shaking her headpushed his hand away.

　　"Take it; oh, you must!" he stammered, and thrust the envelopeinto the bib of her apron and ran back to his room, groaning andfrowning as if he had hurt himself. And for a long time he wentup and down writhing as in pain, and even stamping and groaningaloud as he thought of this last scene. "But what else could Ihave done? Is it not what happens to every one? And if every onedoes the same . . . well I suppose it can't be helped." In thisway he tried to get peace of mind, but in vain. The recollectionof what had passed burned his conscience. In his soul--in thevery depths of his soul--he knew that he had acted in a base,cruel, cowardly manner, and that the knowledge of this act of hismust prevent him, not only from finding fault with any one else,but even from looking straight into other people's eyes; not tomention the impossibility of considering himself a splendid,noble, high-minded fellow, as he did and had to do to go onliving his life boldly and merrily. There was only one solutionof the problem--i.e., not to think about it. He succeeded in doingso. The life he was now entering upon, the new surroundings, newfriends, the war, all helped him to forget. And the longer helived, the less he thought about it, until at last he forgot itcompletely.

　　Once only, when, after the war, he went to see his aunts in hopesof meeting Katusha, and heard that soon after his last visit shehad left, and that his aunts had heard she had been confinedsomewhere or other and had gone quite to the bad, his heartached. According to the time of her confinement, the child mightor might not have been his. His aunts said she had gone wrong,that she had inherited her mother's depraved nature, and he waspleased to hear this opinion of his aunts'. It seemed to acquithim. At first he thought of trying to find her and her child, butthen, just because in the depths of his soul he felt so ashamedand pained when thinking about her, he did not make the necessaryeffort to find her, but tried to forget his sin again and ceasedto think about it. And now this strange coincidence brought itall back to his memory, and demanded from him the acknowledgmentof the heartless, cruel cowardice which had made it possible forhim to live these nine years with such a sin on his conscience.But he was still far from such an acknowledgment, and his onlyfear was that everything might now be found out, and that she orher advocate might recount it all and put him to shame beforeevery one present.

　　CHAPTER XIX.

　　THE TRIAL--RESUMPTION.

　　In this state of mind Nekhludoff left the Court and went into thejurymen's room. He sat by the window smoking all the while, andhearing what was being said around him.

　　The merry merchant seemed with all his heart to sympathise withSmelkoff's way of spending his time. "There, old fellow, that wassomething like! Real Siberian fashion! He knew what he was about,no fear! That's the sort of wench for me."

　　The foreman was stating his conviction, that in some way or otherthe expert's conclusions were the important thing. PeterGerasimovitch was joking about something with the Jewish clerk,and they burst out laughing. Nekhludoff answered all thequestions addressed to him in monosyllables and longed only to beleft in peace.

　　When the usher, with his sideways gait, called the jury back tothe Court, Nekhludoff was seized with fear, as if he were notgoing to judge, but to be judged. In the depth of his soul hefelt that he was a scoundrel, who ought to be ashamed to lookpeople in the face, yet, by sheer force of habit, he stepped onto the platform in his usual self-possessed manner, and sat down,crossing his legs and playing with his pince-nez.

　　The prisoners had also been led out, and were now brought inagain. There were some new faces in the Court witnesses, andNekhludoff noticed that Maslova could not take her eyes off avery fat woman who sat in the row in front of the grating, veryshowily dressed in silk and velvet, a high hat with a large bowon her head, and an elegant little reticule on her arm, which wasbare to the elbow. This was, as he subsequently found out, one ofthe witnesses, the mistress of the establishment to which Maslovahad belonged.

　　The examination of the witnesses commenced: they were asked theirnames, religion, etc. Then, after some consultation as to whetherthe witnesses were to be sworn in or not, the old priest came inagain, dragging his legs with difficulty, and, again arrangingthe golden cross on his breast, swore the witnesses and theexpert in the same quiet manner, and with the same assurance thathe was doing something useful and important.

　　The witnesses having been sworn, all but Kitaeva, the keeper ofthe house, were led out again. She was asked what she knew aboutthis affair. Kitaeva nodded her head and the big hat at everysentence and smiled affectedly. She gave a very full andintelligent account, speaking with a strong German accent. Firstof all, the hotel servant Simeon, whom she knew, came to herestablishment on behalf of a rich Siberian merchant, and she sentLubov back with him. After a time Lubov returned with themerchant. The merchant was already somewhat intoxicated--shesmiled as she said this--and went on drinking and treating thegirls. He was short of money. He sent this same Lubov to hislodgings. He had taken a "predilection" to her. She looked at theprisoner as she said this.

　　Nekhludoff thought he saw Maslova smile here, and this seemeddisgusting to him. A strange, indefinite feeling of loathing,mingled with suffering, arose in him.

　　"And what was your opinion of Maslova?" asked the blushing andconfused applicant for a judicial post, appointed to act asMaslova's advocate.

　　"Zee ferry pesht," answered Kitaeva. "Zee yoong voman is etucatedand elecant. She was prought up in a coot family and can reatFrench. She tid have a trop too moch sometimes, put nefer forcotherself. A ferry coot girl."

　　Katusha looked at the woman, then suddenly turned her eyes on thejury and fixed them on Nekhludoff, and her face grew serious andeven severe. One of her serious eyes squinted, and those twostrange eyes for some time gazed at Nekhludoff, who, in spite ofthe terrors that seized him, could not take his look off thesesquinting eyes, with their bright, clear whites.

　　He thought of that dreadful night, with its mist, the icebreaking on the river below, and when the waning moon, with hornsturned upwards, that had risen towards morning, lit up somethingblack and weird. These two black eyes now looking at him remindedhim of this weird, black something. "She has recognised me," hethought, and Nekhludoff shrank as if expecting a blow. But shehad not recognised him. She sighed quietly and again looked atthe president. Nekhludoff also sighed. "Oh, if it would only geton quicker," he thought.

　　He now felt the same loathing and pity and vexation as when, outshooting, he was obliged to kill a wounded bird. The wounded birdstruggles in the game bag. One is disgusted and yet feels pity,and one is in a hurry to kill the bird and forget it.

　　Such mixed feelings filled Nekhludoff's breast as he satlistening to the examination of the witnesses.

　　CHAPTER XX.

　　THE TRIAL--THE MEDICAL REPORT.

　　But, as if to spite him, the case dragged out to a great length.After each witness had been examined separately and the expertlast of all, and a great number of useless questions had beenput, with the usual air of importance, by the public prosecutorand by both advocates, the president invited the jury to examinethe objects offered as material evidence. They consisted of anenormous diamond ring, which had evidently been worn on the firstfinger, and a test tube in which the poison had been analysed.These things had seals and labels attached to them.

　　Just as the witnesses were about to look at these things, thepublic prosecutor rose and demanded that before they did this theresults of the doctor's examination of the body should be read.The president, who was hurrying the business through as fast ashe could in order to visit his Swiss friend, though he knew thatthe reading of this paper could have no other effect than that ofproducing weariness and putting off the dinner hour, and that thepublic prosecutor wanted it read simply because he knew he had aright to demand it, had no option but to express his consent.

　　The secretary got out the doctor's report and again began to readin his weary lisping voice, making no distinction between the"r's" and "l's."

　　The external examination proved that:

　　"1. Theropont Smelkoff's height was six feet five inches.

　　"Not so bad, that. A very good size," whispered the merchant,with interest, into Nekhludoff's ear.

　　2. He looked about 40 years of age.

　　3. The body was of a swollen appearance.

　　4. The flesh was of a greenish colour, with dark spots in severalplaces.

　　5. The skin was raised in blisters of different sizes and inplaces had come off in large pieces.

　　6. The hair was chestnut; it was thick, and separated easily fromthe skin when touched.

　　7. The eye-balls protruded from their sockets and the cornea hadgrown dim.

　　8. Out of the nostrils, both ears, and the mouth oozed serousliquid; the mouth was half open.

　　9. The neck had almost disappeared, owing to the swelling of theface and chest."

　　And so on and so on.

　　Four pages were covered with the 27 paragraphs describing all thedetails of the external examination of the enormous, fat,swollen, and decomposing body of the merchant who had been makingmerry in the town. The indefinite loathing that Nekhludoff feltwas increased by the description of the corpse. Katusha's life,and the scrum oozing from the nostrils of the corpse, and theeyes that protruded out of their sockets, and his own treatmentof her--all seemed to belong to the same order of things, and hefelt surrounded and wholly absorbed by things of the same nature.

　　When the reading of the report of the external examination wasended, the president heaved a sigh and raised his hand, hoping itwas finished; but the secretary at once went on to thedescription of the internal examination. The president's headagain dropped into his hand and he shut his eyes. The merchantnext to Nekhludoff could hardly keep awake, and now and then hisbody swayed to and fro. The prisoners and the gendarmes satperfectly quiet.

　　The internal examination showed that:

　　"1. The skin was easily detachable from the bones of the skull,and there was no coagulated blood.

　　"2. The bones of the skull were of average thickness and in soundcondition.

　　"3. On the membrane of the brain there were two discolouredspots about four inches long, the membrane itself being of a dullwhite." And so on for 13 paragraphs more. Then followed the namesand signatures of the assistants, and the doctor's conclusionshowing that the changes observed in the stomach, and to a lesserdegree in the bowels and kidneys, at the postmortem examination,and described in the official report, gave great probability tothe conclusion that Smelkoff's death was caused by poison whichhad entered his stomach mixed with alcohol. To decide from thestate of the stomach what poison had been introduced wasdifficult; but it was necessary to suppose that the poisonentered the stomach mixed with alcohol, since a great quantity ofthe latter was found in Smelkoff's stomach.

　　"He could drink, and no mistake," again whispered the merchant,who had just waked up.

　　The reading of this report had taken a full hour, but it had notsatisfied the public prosecutor, for, when it had been readthrough and the president turned to him, saying, "I suppose it issuperfluous to read the report of the examination of the internalorgans?" he answered in a severe tone, without looking at thepresident, "I shall ask to have it read."

　　He raised himself a little, and showed by his manner that he hada right to have this report read, and would claim this right, andthat if that were not granted it would serve as a cause ofappeal.

　　The member of the Court with the big beard, who suffered fromcatarrh of the stomach, feeling quite done up, turned to thepresident:

　　"What is the use of reading all this? It is only dragging it out.These new brooms do not sweep clean; they only take a long whiledoing it."

　　The member with the gold spectacles said nothing, but only lookedgloomily in front of him, expecting nothing good, either from hiswife or life in general. The reading of the report commenced.

　　"In the year 188-, on February 15th, I, the undersigned,commissioned by the medical department, made an examination, No.638," the secretary began again with firmness and raising thepitch of his voice as if to dispel the sleepiness that hadovertaken all present, "in the presence of the assistant medicalinspector, of the internal organs:

　　"1. The right lung and the heart (contained in a 6-lb. glassjar).

　　"2. The contents of the stomach (in a 6-lb. glass jar).

　　"3. The stomach itself (in a 6-lb. glass jar).

　　"4. The liver, the spleen and the kidneys (in a 9-lb. glass jar).

　　5. The intestines (in a 9-lb. earthenware jar)."

　　The president here whispered to one of the members, then stoopedto the other, and having received their consent, he said: "TheCourt considers the reading of this report superfluous." Thesecretary stopped reading and folded the paper, and the publicprosecutor angrily began to write down something. "The gentlemenof the jury may now examine the articles of material evidence,"said the president. The foreman and several of the others roseand went to the table, not quite knowing what to do with theirhands. They looked in turn at the glass, the test tube, and thering. The merchant even tried on the ring.

　　"Ah! that was a finger," he said, returning to his place; "like acucumber," he added. Evidently the image he had formed in hismind of the gigantic merchant amused him.

　　CHAPTER XXI.

　　THE TRIAL--THE PROSECUTOR AND THE ADVOCATES.

　　When the examination of the articles of material evidence wasfinished, the president announced that the investigation was nowconcluded and immediately called on the prosecutor to proceed,hoping that as the latter was also a man, he, too, might feelinclined to smoke or dine, and show some mercy on the rest. Butthe public prosecutor showed mercy neither to himself nor to anyone else. He was very stupid by nature, but, besides this, he hadhad the misfortune of finishing school with a gold medal and ofreceiving a reward for his essay on "Servitude" when studyingRoman Law at the University, and was therefore self-confident andself-satisfied in the highest degree (his success with the ladiesalso conducing to this) and his stupidity had becomeextraordinary.

　　When the word was given to him, he got up slowly, showing thewhole of his graceful figure in his embroidered uniform. Puttinghis hand on the desk he looked round the room, slightly bowinghis head, and, avoiding the eyes of the prisoners, began to readthe speech he had prepared while the reports were being read.

　　"Gentlemen of the jury! The business that now lies before you is,if I may so express myself, very characteristic."

　　The speech of a public prosecutor, according to his views, shouldalways have a social importance, like the celebrated speechesmade by the advocates who have become distinguished. True, theaudience consisted of three women--a semptress, a cook, andSimeon's sister--and a coachman; but this did not matter. Thecelebrities had begun in the same way. To be always at the heightof his position, i.e., to penetrate into the depths of thepsychological significance of crime and to discover the wounds ofsociety, was one of the prosecutor's principles.

　　"You see before you, gentlemen of the jury, a crimecharacteristic, if I may so express myself, of the end of ourcentury; bearing, so to say, the specific features of that verypainful phenomenon, the corruption to which those elements of ourpresent-day society, which are, so to say, particularly exposedto the burning rays of this process, are subject."

　　The public prosecutor spoke at great length, trying not to forgetany of the notions he had formed in his mind, and, on the otherhand, never to hesitate, and let his speech flow on for an hourand a quarter without a break.

　　Only once he stopped and for some time stood swallowing hissaliva, but he soon mastered himself and made up for theinterruption by heightened eloquence. He spoke, now with atender, insinuating accent, stepping from foot to foot andlooking at the jury, now in quiet, business-like tones, glancinginto his notebook, then with a loud, accusing voice, looking fromthe audience to the advocates. But he avoided looking at theprisoners, who were all three fixedly gazing at him. Every newcraze then in vogue among his set was alluded to in his speech;everything that then was, and some things that still are,considered to be the last words of scientific wisdom: the laws ofheredity and inborn criminality, evolution and the struggle forexistence, hypnotism and hypnotic influence.

　　According to his definition, the merchant Smelkoff was of thegenuine Russian type, and had perished in consequence of hisgenerous, trusting nature, having fallen into the hands of deeplydegraded individuals.

　　Simeon Kartinkin was the atavistic production of serfdom, astupefied, ignorant, unprincipled man, who had not even anyreligion. Euphemia was his mistress, and a victim of heredity;all the signs of degeneration were noticeable in her. The chiefwire-puller in this affair was Maslova, presenting the phenomenonof decadence in its lowest form. "This woman," he said, lookingat her, "has, as we have to-day heard from her mistress in thiscourt, received an education; she cannot only read and write, butshe knows French; she is illegitimate, and probably carries inher the germs of criminality. She was educated in an enlightened,noble family and might have lived by honest work, but she desertsher benefactress, gives herself up to a life of shame in whichshe is distinguished from her companions by her education, andchiefly, gentlemen of the jury, as you have heard from hermistress, by her power of acting on the visitors by means of thatmysterious capacity lately investigated by science, especially bythe school of Charcot, known by the name of hypnotic influence.By these means she gets hold of this Russian, this kind-heartedSadko, [Sadko, the hero of a legend] the rich guest, and uses histrust in order first to rob and then pitilessly to murder him."

　　"Well, he is piling it on now, isn't he?" said the president witha smile, bending towards the serious member.

　　"A fearful blockhead!" said the serious member.

　　Meanwhile the public prosecutor went on with his speech."Gentlemen of the jury," gracefully swaying his body, "the fateof society is to a certain extent in your power. Your verdictwill influence it. Grasp the full meaning of this crime, thedanger that awaits society from those whom I may perhaps bepermitted to call pathological individuals, such as Maslova.Guard it from infection; guard the innocent and strong elementsof society from contagion or even destruction."

　　And as if himself overcome by the significance of the expectedverdict, the public prosecutor sank into his chair, highlydelighted with his speech.

　　The sense of the speech, when divested of all its flowers ofrhetoric, was that Maslova, having gained the merchant'sconfidence, hypnotised him and went to his lodgings with his keymeaning to take all the money herself, but having been caught inthe act by Simeon and Euphemia had to share it with them. Then,in order to hide the traces of the crime, she had returned to thelodgings with the merchant and there poisoned him.

　　After the prosecutor had spoken, a middle-aged man inswallow-tail coat and low-cut waistcoat showing a largehalf-circle of starched white shirt, rose from the advocates'bench and made a speech in defence of Kartinkin and Botchkova;this was an advocate engaged by them for 300 roubles. Heacquitted them both and put all the blame on Maslova. He deniedthe truth of Maslova's statements that Botchkova and Kartinkinwere with her when she took the money, laying great stress on thepoint that her evidence could not be accepted, she being chargedwith poisoning. "The 2,500 roubles," the advocate said, "couldhave been easily earned by two honest people getting from threeto five roubles per day in tips from the lodgers. The merchant'smoney was stolen by Maslova and given away, or even lost, as shewas not in a normal state."

　　The poisoning was committed by Maslova alone; therefore he beggedthe jury to acquit Kartinkin and Botchkova of stealing the money;or if they could not acquit them of the theft, at least to admitthat it was done without any participation in the poisoning.

　　In conclusion the advocate remarked, with a thrust at the publicprosecutor, that "the brilliant observations of that gentleman onheredity, while explaining scientific facts concerning heredity,were inapplicable in this case, as Botchkova was of unknownparentage." The public prosecutor put something down on paperwith an angry look, and shrugged his shoulders in contemptuoussurprise.

　　Then Maslova's advocate rose, and timidly and hesitatingly beganhis speech in her defence.

　　Without denying that she had taken part in the stealing of themoney, he insisted on the fact that she had no intention ofpoisoning Smelkoff, but had given him the powder only to make himfall asleep. He tried to go in for a little eloquence in giving adescription of how Maslova was led into a life of debauchery by aman who had remained unpunished while she had to bear all theweight of her fall; but this excursion into the domain ofpsychology was so unsuccessful that it made everybody feeluncomfortable. When he muttered something about men's cruelty andwomen's helplessness, the president tried to help him by askinghim to keep closer to the facts of the case. When he had finishedthe public prosecutor got up to reply. He defended his positionagainst the first advocate, saying that oven if Botchkova was ofunknown parentage the truth of the doctrine of heredity wasthereby in no way invalidated, since the laws of heredity were sofar proved by science that we can not only deduce the crime fromheredity, but heredity from the crime. As to the statement madein defence of Maslova, that she was the victim of an imaginary(he laid a particularly venomous stress on the word imaginary)betrayer, he could only say that from the evidence before them itwas much more likely that she had played the part of temptress tomany and many a victim who had fallen into her hands. Having saidthis he sat down in triumph. Then the prisoners were offeredpermission to speak in their own defence.

　　Euphemia Botchkova repeated once more that she knew nothing aboutit and had taken part in nothing, and firmly laid the whole blameon Maslova. Simeon Kartinkin only repeated several times: "It isyour business, but I am innocent; it's unjust." Maslova saidnothing in her defence. Told she might do so by the president,she only lifted her eyes to him, cast a look round the room likea hunted animal, and, dropping her head, began to cry, sobbingaloud.

　　"What is the matter?" the merchant asked Nekhludoff, hearing himutter a strange sound. This was the sound of weeping fiercelykept back. Nekhludoff had not yet understood the significance ofhis present position, and attributed the sobs he could hardlykeep back and the tears that filled his eyes to the weakness ofhis nerves. He put on his pince-nez in order to hide the tears,then got out his handkerchief and began blowing his nose.

　　Fear of the disgrace that would befall him if every one in thecourt knew of his conduct stifled the inner working of his soul.This fear was, during this first period, stronger than all else.

　　CHAPTER XXII.

　　THE TRIAL--THE SUMMING UP.

　　After the last words of the prisoners had been heard, the form inwhich the questions were to be put to the jury was settled, whichalso took some time. At last the questions were formulated, andthe president began the summing up.

　　Before putting the case to the jury, he spoke to them for sometime in a pleasant, homely manner, explaining that burglary wasburglary and theft was theft, and that stealing from a placewhich was under lock and key was stealing from a place under lockand key. While he was explaining this, he looked several times atNekhludoff as if wishing to impress upon him these importantfacts, in hopes that, having understood it, Nekhludoff would makehis fellow-jurymen also understand it. When he considered thatthe jury were sufficiently imbued with these facts, he proceededto enunciate another truth--namely, that a murder is an actionwhich has the death of a human being as its consequence, and thatpoisoning could therefore also be termed murder. When, accordingto his opinion, this truth had also been received by the jury, hewent on to explain that if theft and murder had been committed atthe same time, the combination of the crimes was theft withmurder.

　　Although he was himself anxious to finish as soon as possible,although he knew that his Swiss friend would be waiting for him,he had grown so used to his occupation that, having begun tospeak, he could not stop himself, and therefore he went on toimpress on the jury with much detail that if they found theprisoners guilty, they would have the right to give a verdict ofguilty; and if they found them not guilty, to give a verdict ofnot guilty; and if they found them guilty of one of the crimesand not of the other, they might give a verdict of guilty on theone count and of not guilty on the other. Then he explained thatthough this right was given them they should use it with reason.

　　He was going to add that if they gave an affirmative answer toany question that was put to them they would thereby affirmeverything included in the question, so that if they did not wishto affirm the whole of the question they should mention the partof the question they wished to be excepted. But, glancing at theclock. and seeing it was already five minutes to three, heresolved to trust to their being intelligent enough to understandthis without further comment.

　　"The facts of this case are the following," began the president,and repeated all that had already been said several times by theadvocates, the public prosecutor and the witnesses.

　　The president spoke, and the members on each side of him listenedwith deeply-attentive expressions, but looked from time to timeat the clock, for they considered the speech too long though verygood--i.e., such as it ought to be. The public prosecutor, thelawyers, and, in fact, everyone in the court, shared the sameimpression. The president finished the summing up. Then he foundit necessary to tell the jury what they all knew, or might havefound out by reading it up--i.e., how they were to consider thecase, count the votes, in case of a tie to acquit the prisoners,and so on.

　　Everything seemed to have been told; but no, the president couldnot forego his right of speaking as yet. It was so pleasant tohear the impressive tones of his own voice, and therefore hefound it necessary to say a few words more about the importanceof the rights given to the jury, how carefully they should usethe rights and how they ought not to abuse them, about theirbeing on their oath, that they were the conscience of society,that the secrecy of the debating-room should be consideredsacred, etc.

　　From the time the president commenced his speech, Maslova watchedhim without moving her eyes as if afraid of losing a single word;so that Nekhludoff was not afraid of meeting her eyes and keptlooking at her all the time. And his mind passed through thosephases in which a face which we have not seen for many yearsfirst strikes us with the outward changes brought about duringthe time of separation, and then gradually becomes more and morelike its old self, when the changes made by time seem todisappear, and before our spiritual eyes rises only the principalexpression of one exceptional, unique individuality. Yes, thoughdressed in a prison cloak, and in spite of the developed figure,the fulness of the bosom and lower part of the face, in spite ofa few wrinkles on the forehead and temples and the swollen eyes,this was certainly the same Katusha who, on that Easter eve, hadso innocently looked up to him whom she loved, with her fond,laughing eyes full of joy and life.

　　"What a strange coincidence that after ten years, during which Inever saw her, this case should have come up today when I am onthe jury, and that it is in the prisoners' dock that I see heragain! And how will it end? Oh, dear, if they would only get onquicker."

　　Still he would not give in to the feelings of repentance whichbegan to arise within him. He tried to consider it all as acoincidence, which would pass without infringing his manner oflife. He felt himself in the position of a puppy, when itsmaster, taking it by the scruff of its neck, rubs its nose in themess it has made. The puppy whines, draws back and wants to getaway as far as possible from the effects of its misdeed, but thepitiless master does not let go.

　　And so, Nekhludoff, feeling all the repulsiveness of what he haddone, felt also the powerful hand of the Master, but he did notfeel the whole significance of his action yet and would notrecognise the Master's hand. He did not wish to believe that itwas the effect of his deed that lay before him, but the pitilesshand of the Master held him and he felt he could not get away. Hewas still keeping up his courage and sat on his chair in thefirst row in his usual self-possessed pose, one leg carelesslythrown over the other, and playing with his pince-nez. Yet allthe while, in the depths of his soul, he felt the cruelty,cowardice and baseness, not only of this particular action of hisbut of his whole self-willed, depraved, cruel, idle life; andthat dreadful veil which had in some unaccountable manner hiddenfrom him this sin of his and the whole of his subsequent life wasbeginning to shake, and he caught glimpses of what was covered bythat veil.

　　CHAPTER XXIII.

　　THE TRIAL--THE VERDICT.

　　At last the president finished his speech, and lifting the listof questions with a graceful movement of his arm he handed it tothe foreman, who came up to take it. The jury, glad to be able toget into the debating-court, got up one after the other and leftthe room, looking as if a bit ashamed of themselves and again notknowing what to do with their hands. As soon as the door wasclosed behind them a gendarme came up to it, pulled his sword outof the scabbard, and, holding it up against his shoulder, stoodat the door. The judges got up and went away. The prisoners werealso led out. When the jury came into the debating-room the firstthing they did was to take out their cigarettes, as before, andbegin smoking. The sense of the unnaturalness and falseness oftheir position, which all of them had experienced while sittingin their places in the court, passed when they entered thedebating-room and started smoking, and they settled down with afeeling of relief and at once began an animated conversation.

　　"'Tisn't the girl's fault. She's got mixed up in it," said thekindly merchant. "We must recommend her to mercy."

　　"That's just what we are going to consider," said the foreman."We must not give way to our personal impressions."

　　"The president's summing up was good," remarked the colonel.

　　"Good? Why, it nearly sent me to sleep!"

　　"The chief point is that the servants could have known nothingabout the money if Maslova had not been in accord with them,"said the clerk of Jewish extraction.

　　"Well, do you think that it was she who stole the money?" askedone of the jury.

　　"I will never believe it," cried the kindly merchant; "it was allthat red-eyed hag's doing."

　　"They are a nice lot, all of them," said the colonel.

　　"But she says she never went into the room."

　　"Oh, believe her by all means."

　　"I should not believe that jade, not for the world."

　　"Whether you believe her or not does not settle the question,"said the clerk.

　　"The girl had the key," said the colonel.

　　"What if she had?" retorted the merchant.

　　"And the ring?"

　　"But didn't she say all about it?" again cried the merchant. "Thefellow had a temper of his own, and had had a drop too muchbesides, and gave the girl a licking; what could be simpler?Well, then he's sorry--quite naturally. 'There, never mind,' sayshe; 'take this.' Why, I heard them say he was six foot five high;I should think he must have weighed about 20 stones."

　　"That's not the point," said Peter Gerasimovitch. "The questionis, whether she was the instigator and inciter in this affair, orthe servants?"

　　"It was not possible for the servants to do it alone; she had thekey."

　　This kind of random talk went on for a considerable time. At lastthe foreman said: "I beg your pardon, gentlemen, but had we notbetter take our places at the table and discuss the matter?Come, please." And he took the chair.

　　The questions were expressed in the following manner.

　　1. Is the peasant of the village Borki, Krapivinskia district,Simeon Petrov Kartinkin, 33 years of age, guilty of having, inagreement with other persons, given the merchant Smelkoff, on the17th January, 188-, in the town of N-----, with intent to deprivehim of life, for the purpose of robbing him, poisoned brandy,which caused Smelkoff's death, and of having stolen from himabout 2,500 roubles in money and a diamond ring?

　　2. Is the meschanka Euphemia Ivanovna Botchkova, 43 years of age,guilty of the crimes described above?

　　3. Is the meschanka Katerina Michaelovna Maslova, 27 years ofage, guilty of the crimes described in the first question?

　　4. If the prisoner Euphemia Botchkova is not guilty according tothe first question, is she not guilty of having, on the 17thJanuary, in the town of N----, while in service at the hotelMauritania, stolen from a locked portmanteau, belonging to themerchant Smelkoff, a lodger in that hotel, and which was in theroom occupied by him, 2,500 roubles, for which object sheunlocked the portmanteau with a key she brought and fitted to thelock?

　　The foreman read the first question.

　　"Well, gentlemen, what do you think?" This question was quicklyanswered. All agreed to say "Guilty," as if convinced thatKartinkin had taken part both in the poisoning and the robbery.An old artelshik, [member of an artel, an association of workmen,in which the members share profits and liabilities] whoseanswers were all in favour of acquittal, was the only exception.

　　The foreman thought he did not understand, and began to point outto him that everything tended to prove Kartinkin's guilt. The oldman answered that he did understand, but still thought it betterto have pity on him. "We are not saints ourselves," and he keptto his opinion.

　　The answer to the second question concerning Botchkova was, aftermuch dispute and many exclamations, answered by the words, "Notguilty," there being no clear proofs of her having taken part inthe poisoning--a fact her advocate had strongly insisted on. Themerchant, anxious to acquit Maslova, insisted that Botchkova wasthe chief instigator of it all. Many of the jury shared thisview, but the foreman, wishing to be in strict accord with thelaw, declared they had no grounds to consider her as anaccomplice in the poisoning. After much disputing the foreman'sopinion triumphed.

　　To the fourth question concerning Botchkova the answer was"Guilty." But on the artelshik's insistence she was recommendedto mercy.

　　The third question, concerning Maslova, raised a fierce dispute.The foreman maintained she was guilty both of the poisoning andthe theft, to which the merchant would not agree. The colonel,the clerk and the old artelshik sided with the merchant, the restseemed shaky, and the opinion of the foreman began to gainground, chiefly because all the jurymen were getting tired, andpreferred to take up the view that would bring them sooner to adecision and thus liberate them.

　　From all that had passed, and from his former knowledge ofMaslova, Nekhludoff was certain that she was innocent of both thetheft and the poisoning. And he felt sure that all the otherswould come to the same conclusion. When he saw that themerchant's awkward defence (evidently based on his physicaladmiration for her, which he did not even try to hide) and theforeman's insistence, and especially everybody's weariness, wereall tending to her condemnation, he longed to state hisobjections, yet dared not, lest his relations with Maslova shouldbe discovered. He felt he could not allow things to go on withoutstating his objection; and, blushing and growing pale again, wasabout to speak when Peter Gerasimovitch, irritated by theauthoritative manner of the foreman, began to raise hisobjections and said the very things Nekhludoff was about to say.

　　"Allow me one moment," he said. "You seem to think that herhaving the key proves she is guilty of the theft; but what couldbe easier than for the servants to open the portmanteau with afalse key after she was gone?

　　"Of course, of course," said the merchant.

　　"She could not have taken the money, because in her position shewould hardly know what to do with it."

　　"That's just what I say," remarked the merchant.

　　"But it is very likely that her coming put the idea into theservants' heads and that they grasped the opportunity and shovedall the blame on her." Peter Gerasimovitch spoke so irritablythat the foreman became irritated too, and went on obstinatelydefending the opposite views; but Peter Gerasimovitch spoke soconvincingly that the majority agreed with him, and decided thatMaslova was not guilty of stealing the money and that the ringwas given her.

　　But when the question of her having taken part in the poisoningwas raised, her zealous defender, the merchant, declared that shemust be acquitted, because she could have no reason for thepoisoning. The foreman, however, said that it was impossible toacquit her, because she herself had pleaded guilty to havinggiven the powder.

　　"Yes, but thinking it was opium," said the merchant.

　　"Opium can also deprive one of life," said the colonel, who wasfond of wandering from the subject, and he began telling how hisbrother-in-law's wife would have died of an overdose of opium ifthere had not been a doctor near at hand to take the necessarymeasures. The colonel told his story so impressively, with suchself-possession and dignity, that no one had the courage tointerrupt him. Only the clerk, infected by his example, decidedto break in with a story of his own: "There are some who get soused to it that they can take 40 drops. I have a relative--," butthe colonel would not stand the interruption, and went on torelate what effects the opium had on his brother-in-law's wife.

　　"But, gentlemen, do you know it is getting on towards fiveo'clock?" said one of the jury.

　　"Well, gentlemen, what are we to say, then?" inquired theforeman. "Shall we say she is guilty, but without intent to rob?And without stealing any property? Will that do?" PeterGerasimovitch, pleased with his victory, agreed.

　　"But she must be recommended to mercy," said the merchant.

　　All agreed; only the old artelshik insisted that they should say"Not guilty."

　　"It comes to the same thing," explained the foreman; "withoutintent to rob, and without stealing any property. Therefore, 'Notguilty,' that's evident."

　　"All right; that'll do. And we recommend her to mercy," said themerchant, gaily.

　　They were all so tired, so confused by the discussions, thatnobody thought of saying that she was guilty of giving the powderbut without the intent of taking life. Nekhludoff was so excitedthat he did not notice this omission, and so the answers werewritten down in the form agreed upon and taken to the court.

　　Rabelais says that a lawyer who was trying a case quoted allsorts of laws, read 20 pages of judicial senseless Latin, andthen proposed to the judges to throw dice, and if the numbersproved odd the defendant would he right, if not, the plaintiff.

　　It was much the same in this case. The resolution was taken, notbecause everybody agreed upon it, but because the president, whohad been summing up at such length, omitted to say what he alwayssaid on such occasions, that the answer might be, "Yes, guilty,but without the intent of taking life;" because the colonel hadrelated the story of his brother-in-law's wife at such greatlength; because Nekhludoff was too excited to notice that theproviso "without intent to take life" had been omitted, andthought that the words "without intent" nullified the conviction;because Peter Gerasimovitch had retired from the room while thequestions and answers were being read, and chiefly because, beingtired, and wishing to get away as soon as possible, all wereready to agree with the decision which would bring matters to anend soonest.

　　The jurymen rang the bell. The gendarme who had stood outside thedoor with his sword drawn put the sword back into the scabbardand stepped aside. The judges took their seats and the jury cameout one by one.

　　The foreman brought in the paper with an air of solemnity andhanded it to the president, who looked at it, and, spreading outhis hands in astonishment, turned to consult his companions. Thepresident was surprised that the jury, having put in aproviso--without intent to rob--did not put in a secondproviso--without intent to take life. From the decision of thejury it followed that Maslova had not stolen, nor robbed, and yetpoisoned a man without any apparent reason.

　　"Just see what an absurd decision they have come to," hewhispered to the member on his left. "This means penal servitudein Siberia, and she is innocent."

　　"Surely you do not mean to say she is innocent? answered theserious member.

　　"Yes, she is positively innocent. I think this is a case forputting Article 817 into practice (Article 817 states that if theCourt considers the decision of the jury unjust it may set itaside)."

　　"What do you think?" said the president, turning to the othermember. The kindly member did not answer at once. He looked atthe number on a paper before him and added up the figures; thesum would not divide by three. He had settled in his mind that ifit did divide by three he would agree to the president'sproposal, but though the sum would not so divide his kindnessmade him agree all the same.

　　"I, too, think it should he done," he said.

　　"And you?" asked the president, turning to the serious member.

　　"On no account," he answered, firmly. "As it is, the papersaccuse the jury of acquitting prisoners. What will they say ifthe Court does it? I, shall not agree to that on any account."

　　The president looked at his watch. "It is a pity, but what's tobe done?" and handed the questions to the foreman to read out.All got up, and the foreman, stepping from foot to foot, coughed,and read the questions and the answers. All the Court, secretary,advocates, and even the public prosecutor, expressed surprise.The prisoners sat impassive, evidently not understanding themeaning of the answers. Everybody sat down again, and thepresident asked the prosecutor what punishments the prisonerswere to be subjected to.

　　The prosecutor, glad of his unexpected success in getting Maslovaconvicted, and attributing the success entirely to his owneloquence, looked up the necessary information, rose and said:"With Simeon Kartinkin I should deal according to Statute 1,452paragraph 93. Euphemia Botchkova according to Statute . . ., etc.Katerina Maslova according to Statute . . .,etc."

　　All three punishments were the heaviest that could he inflicted.

　　"The Court will adjourn to consider the sentence," said thepresident, rising. Everybody rose after him, and with thepleasant feeling of a task well done began to leave the room ormove about in it.

　　"D'you know, sirs, we have made a shameful hash of it?" saidPeter Gerasimovitch, approaching Nekhludoff, to whom the foremanwas relating something. "Why, we've got her to Siberia."

　　"What are you saying?" exclaimed Nekhludoff. This time he did notnotice the teacher's familiarity.

　　"Why, we did not put in our answer 'Guilty, but without intent ofcausing death.' The secretary just told me the public prosecutoris for condemning her to 15 years' penal servitude."

　　"Well, but it was decided so," said the foreman.

　　Peter Gerasimovitch began to dispute this, saying that since shedid not take the money it followed naturally that she could nothave had any intention of committing murder.

　　"But I read the answer before going out," said the foreman,defending himself, "and nobody objected."

　　"I had just then gone out of the room," said Peter Gerasimovitch,turning to Nekhludoff, "and your thoughts must have beenwool-gathering to let the thing pass."

　　"I never imagined this," Nekhludoff replied.

　　"Oh, you didn't?"

　　"Oh, well, we can get it put right," said Nekhludoff.

　　"Oh, dear no; it's finished."

　　Nekhludoff looked at the prisoners. They whose fate was beingdecided still sat motionless behind the grating in front of thesoldiers. Maslova was smiling. Another feeling stirred inNekhludoff's soul. Up to now, expecting her acquittal andthinking she would remain in the town, he was uncertain how toact towards her. Any kind of relations with her would be so verydifficult. But Siberia and penal servitude at once cut off everypossibility of any kind of relations with her. The wounded birdwould stop struggling in the game-bag, and no longer remind himof its existence.

　　CHAPTER XXIV.

　　THE TRIAL--THE SENTENCE.

　　Peter Gerasimovitch's assumption was correct. The president cameback from the debating room with a paper, and read asfollows:--"April 28th, 188-. By His Imperial Majesty's ukase No.----- The Criminal Court, on the strength of the decision of thejury, in accordance with Section 3 of Statute 771, Section 3 ofStatutes 770 and 777, decrees that the peasant, Simeon Kartinkin,33 years of age, and the meschanka Katerina Maslova, 27 years ofage, are to be deprived of all property rights and to be sent topenal servitude in Siberia, Kartinkin for eight, Maslova for fouryears, with the consequences stated in Statute 25 of the code.The meschanka Botchkova, 43 years of age, to be deprived of allspecial personal and acquired rights, and to be imprisoned forthree years with consequences in accord with Statute 48 of thecode. The costs of the case to be borne equally by the prisoners;and, in the case of their being without sufficient property, thecosts to be transferred to the Treasury. Articles of materialevidence to be sold, the ring to be returned, the phialsdestroyed." Botchkova was condemned to prison, Simeon Kartinkenand Katerina Maslova to the loss of all special rights andprivileges and to penal servitude in Siberia, he for eight andshe for four years.

　　Kartinkin stood holding his arms close to his sides and movinghis lips. Botchkova seemed perfectly calm. Maslova, when sheheard the sentence, blushed scarlet. "I'm not guilty, notguilty!" she suddenly cried, so that it resounded through theroom. "It is a sin! I am not guilty! I never wished--I neverthought! It is the truth I am saying--the truth!" and sinking onthe bench she burst into tears and sobbed aloud. When Kartinkinand Botchkova went out she still sat crying, so that a gendarmehad to touch the sleeve of her cloak.

　　"No; it is impossible to leave it as it is," said Nekhludoff tohimself, utterly forgetting his bad thoughts. He did not know whyhe wished to look at her once more, but hurried out into thecorridor. There was quite a crowd at the door. The advocates andjury were going out, pleased to have finished the business, andhe was obliged to wait a few seconds, and when he at last got outinto the corridor she was far in front. He hurried along thecorridor after her, regardless of the attention he was arousing,caught her up, passed her, and stopped. She had ceased crying andonly sobbed, wiping her red, discoloured face with the end of thekerchief on her head. She passed without noticing him. Then hehurried back to see the president. The latter had already leftthe court, and Nekhludoff followed him into the lobby and went upto him just as he had put on his light grey overcoat and wastaking the silver-mounted walking-stick which an attendant washanding him.

　　"Sir, may I have a few words with you concerning some business Ihave just decided upon?" said Nekhludoff. I am one of the jury."

　　"Oh, certainly, Prince Nekhludoff. I shall be delighted. I thinkwe have met before," said the president, pressing Nekhludoff'shand and recalling with pleasure the evening when he first metNekhludoff, and when he had danced so gaily, better than all theyoung people. "What can I do for you?"

　　"There is a mistake in the answer concerning Maslova. She is notguilty of the poisoning and yet she is condemned to penalservitude," said Nekhludoff, with a preoccupied and gloomy air.

　　"The Court passed the sentence in accordance with the answers youyourselves gave," said the president, moving towards the frontdoor; "though they did not seem to be quite in accord." And heremembered that he had been going to explain to the jury that averdict of "guilty" meant guilty of intentional murder unless thewords "without intent to take life" were added, but had, in hishurry to get the business over, omitted to do so.

　　"Yes, but could not the mistake be rectified?"

　　"A reason for an appeal can always be found. You will have tospeak to an advocate," said the president, putting on his hat alittle to one side and continuing to move towards the door.

　　"But this is terrible."

　　"Well, you see, there were two possibilities before Maslova,"said the president, evidently wishing to be as polite andpleasant to Nekhludoff as he could. Then, having arranged hiswhiskers over his coat collar, he put his hand lightly underNekhludoff's elbow, and, still directing his steps towards thefront door, he said, "You are going, too?"

　　"Yes," said Nekhludoff, quickly getting his coat, and followinghim.

　　They went out into the bright, merry sunlight, and had to raisetheir voices because of the rattling of the wheels on thepavement.

　　"The situation is a curious one, you see," said the president;"what lay before this Maslova was one of two things: either to bealmost acquitted and only imprisoned for a short time, or, takingthe preliminary confinement into consideration, perhaps not atall--or Siberia. There is nothing between. Had you but added thewords, 'without intent to cause death,' she would have beenacquitted."

　　"Yes, it was inexcusable of me to omit that," said Nekhludoff.

　　"That's where the whole matter lies," said the president, with asmile, and looked at his watch. He had only three-quarters of anhour left before the time appointed by his Clara would elapse.

　　"Now, if you like to speak to the advocates you'll have to find areason for an appeal; that can be easily done." Then, turning toan isvostchik, he called out, "To the Dvoryanskaya 30 copecks; Inever give more." "All right, your honour; here you are."

　　"Good-afternoon. If I can be of any use, my address is HouseDvornikoff, on the Dvoryanskaya; it's easy to remember." And hebowed in a friendly manner as he got into the trap and drove off.

　　CHAPTER XXV.

　　NEKHLUDOFF CONSULTS AN ADVOCATE.

　　His conversation with the president and the fresh air quietedNekhludoff a little. He now thought that the feelings experiencedby him had been exaggerated by the unusual surroundings in whichhe had spent the whole of the morning, and by that wonderful andstartling coincidence. Still, it was absolutely necessary to takesome steps to lighten Maslova's fate, and to take them quickly."Yes, at once! It will be best to find out here in the courtwhere the advocate Fanarin or Mikishin lives." These were twowell-known advocates whom Nekhludoff called to mind. He returnedto the court, took off his overcoat, and went upstairs. In thefirst corridor he met Fanarin himself. He stopped him, and toldhim that he was just going to look him up on a matter ofbusiness.

　　Fanarin knew Nekhludoff by sight and name, and said he would bevery glad to be of service to him.

　　"Though I am rather tired, still, if your business will not takevery long, perhaps you might tell me what it is now. Will youstep in here?" And he led Nekhludoff into a room, probably somejudge's cabinet. They sat down by the table.

　　"Well, and what is your business?"

　　"First of all, I must ask you to keep the business private. I donot want it known that I take an interest in the affair."

　　"Oh, that of course. Well?"

　　"I was on the jury to-day, and we have condemned a woman toSiberia, an innocent woman. This bothers me very much."Nekhludoff, to his own surprise, blushed and became confused.Fanarin glanced at him rapidly, and looked down again, listening.

　　"Well?"

　　"We have condemned a woman, and I should like to appeal to ahigher court."

　　"To the Senate, you mean," said Fanarin, correcting him.

　　"Yes, and I should like to ask you to take the case in hand."Nekhludoff wanted to get the most difficult part over, and added,"I shall take the costs of the case on myself, whatever they maybe."

　　"Oh, we shall settle all that," said the advocate, smiling withcondescension at Nekhludoff's inexperience in these matters."What is the case?"

　　Nekhludoff stated what had happened.

　　"All right. I shall look the case through to-morrow or the dayafter--no--better on Thursday. If you will come to me at sixo'clock I will give you an answer. Well, and now let us go; Ihave to make a few inquiries here."

　　Nekhludoff took leave of him and went out. This talk with theadvocate, and the fact that he had taken measures for Maslova'sdefence, quieted him still further. He went out into the street.The weather was beautiful, and he joyfully drew in a long breathof spring air. He was at once surrounded by isvostchiks offeringtheir services, but he went on foot. A whole swarm of picturesand memories of Katusha and his conduct to her began whirling inhis brain, and he felt depressed and everything appeared gloomy."No, I shall consider all this later on; I must now get rid ofall these disagreeable impressions," he thought to himself.

　　He remembered the Korchagin's dinner and looked at his watch. Itwas not yet too late to get there in time. He heard the ring of apassing tramcar, ran to catch it, and jumped on. He jumped offagain when they got to the market-place, took a good isvostchik,and ten minutes later was at the entrance of the Korchagins' bighouse.

　　CHAPTER XXVI.

　　THE HOUSE OF KORCHAGIN.

　　"Please to walk in, your excellency," said the friendly, fatdoorkeeper of the Korchagins' big house, opening the door, whichmoved noiselessly on its patent English hinges; "you areexpected. They are at dinner. My orders were to admit only you."The doorkeeper went as far as the staircase and rang.

　　"Are there any strangers?" asked Nekhludoff, taking off hisovercoat.

　　"Mr. Kolosoff and Michael Sergeivitch only, besides the family."

　　A very handsome footman with whiskers, in a swallow-tail coat andwhite gloves, looked down from the landing.

　　Please to walk up, your excellency," he said. "You are expected."

　　Nekhludoff went up and passed through the splendid largedancing-room, which he knew so well, into the dining-room. Therethe whole Korchagin family--except the mother, Sophia Vasilievna,who never left her cabinet--were sitting round the table. At thehead of the table sat old Korchagin; on his left the doctor, andon his right, a visitor, Ivan Ivanovitch Kolosoff, a formerMarechal de Noblesse, now a bank director, Korchagin's friend anda Liberal. Next on the left side sat Miss Rayner, the governessof Missy's little sister, and the four-year-old girl herself.Opposite them, Missy's brother, Petia, the only son of theKorchagins, a public-school boy of the Sixth Class. It wasbecause of his examinations that the whole family were still intown. Next to him sat a University student who was coaching him,and Missy's cousin, Michael Sergeivitch Telegin, generally calledMisha; opposite him, Katerina Alexeevna, a 40-year-old maidenlady, a Slavophil; and at the foot of the table sat Missyherself, with an empty place by her side.

　　"Ah! that's right! Sit down. We are still at the fish," said oldKorchagin with difficulty, chewing carefully with his falseteeth, and lifting his bloodshot eyes (which had no visible lidsto them) to Nekhludoff.

　　"Stephen!" he said, with his mouth full, addressing the stout,dignified butler, and pointing with his eyes to the empty place.Though Nekhludoff knew Korchagin very well, and had often seenhim at dinner, to-day this red face with the sensual smackinglips, the fat neck above the napkin stuck into his waistcoat, andthe whole over-fed military figure, struck him very disagreeably.Then Nekhludoff remembered, without wishing to, what he knew ofthe cruelty of this man, who, when in command, used to have menflogged, and even hanged, without rhyme or reason, simply becausehe was rich and had no need to curry favour.

　　"Immediately, your excellency," said Stephen, getting a largesoup ladle out of the sideboard, which was decorated with anumber of silver vases. He made a sign with his head to thehandsome footman, who began at once to arrange the untouchedknives and forks and the napkin, elaborately folded with theembroidered family crest uppermost, in front of the empty placenext to Missy. Nekhludoff went round shaking hands with everyone, and all, except old Korchagin and the ladies, rose when heapproached. And this walk round the table, this shaking the handsof people, with many of whom he never talked, seemed unpleasantand odd. He excused himself for being late, and was about to sitdown between Missy and Katerina Alexeevna, but old Korchagininsisted that if he would not take a glass of vodka he should atleast take a bit of something to whet his appetite, at the sidetable, on which stood small dishes of lobster, caviare, cheese,and salt herrings. Nekhludoff did not know how hungry he wasuntil he began to eat, and then, having taken some bread andcheese, he went on eating eagerly.

　　"Well, have you succeeded in undermining the basis of society?"asked Kolosoff, ironically quoting an expression used by aretrograde newspaper in attacking trial by jury. "Acquitted theculprits and condemned the innocent, have you?"

　　"Undermining the basis--undermining the basis," repeated PrinceKorchagin, laughing. He had a firm faith in the wisdom andlearning of his chosen friend and companion.

　　At the risk of seeming rude, Nekhludoff left Kolosoff's questionunanswered, and sitting down to his steaming soup, went oneating.

　　"Do let him eat," said Missy, with a smile. The pronoun him sheused as a reminder of her intimacy with Nekhludoff. Kolosoff wenton in a loud voice and lively manner to give the contents of thearticle against trial by jury which had aroused his indignation.Missy's cousin, Michael Sergeivitch, endorsed all his statements,and related the contents of another article in the same paper.Missy was, as usual, very distinguee, and well, unobtrusivelywell, dressed.

　　"You must be terribly tired," she said, after waiting untilNekhludoff had swallowed what was in his mouth.

　　"Not particularly. And you? Have you been to look at thepictures?" he asked.

　　"No, we put that off. We have been playing tennis at theSalamatoffs'. It is quite true, Mr. Crooks plays remarkablywell."

　　Nekhludoff had come here in order to distract his thoughts, forhe used to like being in this house, both because its refinedluxury had a pleasant effect on him and because of the atmosphereof tender flattery that unobtrusively surrounded him. But to-dayeverything in the house was repulsive to him--everything:beginning with the doorkeeper, the broad staircase, the flowers,the footman, the table decorations, up to Missy herself, whoto-day seemed unattractive and affected. Kolosoff's self-assured,trivial tone of liberalism was unpleasant, as was also thesensual, self-satisfied, bull-like appearance of old Korchagin,and the French phrases of Katerina Alexeevna, the Slavophil. Theconstrained looks of the governess and the student wereunpleasant, too, but most unpleasant of all was the pronoun HIMthat Missy had used. Nekhludoff had long been wavering betweentwo ways of regarding Missy; sometimes he looked at her as if bymoonlight, and could see in her nothing but what was beautiful,fresh, pretty, clever and natural; then suddenly, as if thebright sun shone on her, he saw her defects and could not helpseeing them. This was such a day for him. To-day he saw all thewrinkles of her face, knew which of her teeth were false, saw theway her hair was crimped, the sharpness of her elbows, and, aboveall, how large her thumb-nail was and how like her father's.

　　"Tennis is a dull game," said Kolosoff; "we used to play laptawhen we were children. That was much more amusing."

　　"Oh, no, you never tried it; it's awfully interesting," saidMissy, laying, it seemed to Nekhludoff, a very affected stress onthe word "awfully." Then a dispute arose in which MichaelSergeivitch, Katerina Alexeevna and all the others took part,except the governess, the student and the children, who satsilent and wearied.

　　"Oh, these everlasting disputes!" said old Korchagin, laughing,and he pulled the napkin out of his waistcoat, noisily pushedback his chair, which the footman instantly ,caught hold of, andleft the table.

　　Everybody rose after him, and went up to another table on whichstood glasses of scented water. They rinsed their mouths, thenresumed the conversation, interesting to no one.

　　"Don't you think so?" said Missy to Nekhludoff, calling for aconfirmation of the statement that nothing shows up a man'scharacter like a game. She noticed that preoccupied and, as itseemed to her, dissatisfied look which she feared, and she wantedto find out what had caused it.

　　"Really, I can't tell; I have never thought about it," Nekhludoffanswered.

　　"Will you come to mamma?" asked Missy.

　　Yes, yes," he said, in a tone which plainly proved that he didnot want to go, and took out a cigarette.

　　She looked at him in silence, with a questioning look, and hefelt ashamed. "To come into a house and give the people thedumps," he thought about himself; then, trying to be amiable,said that he would go with pleasure if the princess would admithim.

　　"Oh, yes! Mamma will be pleased. You may smoke there; and IvanIvanovitch is also there."

　　The mistress of the house, Princess Sophia Vasilievna, was arecumbent lady. It was the eighth year that, when visitors werepresent, she lay in lace and ribbons, surrounded with velvet,gilding, ivory, bronze, lacquer and flowers, never going out, andonly, as she put it, receiving intimate friends, i.e., those whoaccording to her idea stood out from the common herd.

　　Nekhludoff was admitted into the number of these friends becausehe was considered clever, because his mother had been an intimatefriend of the family, and because it was desirable that Missyshould marry him.

　　Sophia Vasilievna's room lay beyond the large and the smalldrawing-rooms. In the large drawing-room, Missy, who was in frontof Nekhludoff, stopped resolutely, and taking hold of the back ofa small green chair, faced him.

　　Missy was very anxious to get married, and as he was a suitablematch and she also liked him, she had accustomed herself to thethought that he should be hers (not she his). To lose him wouldbe very mortifying. She now began talking to him in order to gethim to explain his intentions.

　　"I see something has happened," she said. "Tell me, what is thematter with you?"

　　He remembered the meeting in the law court, and frowned andblushed.

　　"Yes, something has happened," he said, wishing to be truthful;"a very unusual and serious event."

　　"What is it, then? Can you not tell me what it is?" She waspursuing her aim with that unconscious yet obstinate cunningoften observable in the mentally diseased.

　　"Not now. Please do not ask me to tell you. I have not yet hadtime fully to consider it," and he blushed still more.

　　"And so you will not tell me?" A muscle twitched in her face andshe pushed back the chair she was holding. "Well then, come!" Sheshook her head as if to expel useless thoughts, and, faster thanusual, went on in front of him.

　　He fancied that her mouth was unnaturally compressed in order tokeep back the tears. He was ashamed of having hurt her, and yethe knew that the least weakness on his part would mean disaster,i.e., would bind him to her. And to-day he feared this more thananything, and silently followed her to the princess's cabinet.

　　CHAPTER XXVII.

　　MISSY'S MOTHER.

　　Princess Sophia Vasilievna, Missy's mother, had finished her veryelaborate and nourishing dinner. (She had it always alone, thatno one should see her performing this unpoetical function.) Byher couch stood a small table with her coffee, and she wassmoking a pachitos. Princess Sophia Vasilievna was a long, thinwoman, with dark hair, large black eyes and long teeth, and stillpretended to be young.

　　Her intimacy with the doctor was being talked about. Nekhludoffhad known that for some time; but when he saw the doctor sittingby her couch, his oily, glistening beard parted in the middle, henot only remembered the rumours about them, but felt greatlydisgusted. By the table, on a low, soft, easy chair, next toSophia Vasilievna, sat Kolosoff, stirring his coffee. A glass ofliqueur stood on the table. Missy came in with Nekhludoff, butdid not remain in the room.

　　"When mamma gets tired of you and drives you away, then come tome," she said, turning to Kolosoff and Nekhludoff, speaking as ifnothing had occurred; then she went away, smiling merrily andstepping noiselessly on the thick carpet.

　　"How do you do, dear friend? Sit down and talk," said PrincessSophia Vasilievna, with her affected but very naturally-actedsmile, showing her fine, long teeth--a splendid imitation of whather own had once been. "I hear that you have come from the LawCourts very much depressed. I think it must be very trying to aperson with a heart," she added in French.

　　"Yes, that is so," said Nekhludoff. "One often feels one's ownde--one feels one has no right to judge."

　　"Comme, c'est vrai," she cried, as if struck by the truth of thisremark. She was in the habit of artfully flattering all thosewith whom she conversed. "Well, and what of your picture? It doesinterest me so. If I were not such a sad invalid I should havebeen to see it long ago," she said.

　　"I have quite given it up," Nekhludoff replied drily. Thefalseness of her flattery seemed as evident to him to-day as herage, which she was trying to conceal, and he could not puthimself into the right state to behave politely.

　　"Oh, that IS a pity! Why, he has a real talent for art; I have itfrom Repin's own lips," she added, turning to Kolosoff.

　　"Why is it she is not ashamed of lying so?" Nekhludoff thought,and frowned.

　　When she had convinced herself that Nekhludoff was in a badtemper and that one could not get him into an agreeable andclever conversation, Sophia Vasilievna turned to Kolosoff, askinghis opinion of a new play. She asked it in a tone as ifKolosoff's opinion would decide all doubts, and each word of thisopinion be worthy of being immortalised. Kolosoff found faultboth with the play and its author, and that led him to expresshis views on art. Princess Sophia Vasilievna, while trying at thesame time to defend the play, seemed impressed by the truth ofhis arguments, either giving in at once, or at least modifyingher opinion. Nekhludoff looked and listened, but neither saw norheard what was going on before him.

　　Listening now to Sophia Vasilievna, now to Kolosoff, Nekhludoffnoticed that neither he nor she cared anything about the play oreach other, and that if they talked it was only to gratify thephysical desire to move the muscles of the throat and tongueafter having eaten; and that Kolosoff, having drunk vodka, wineand liqueur, was a little tipsy. Not tipsy like the peasants whodrink seldom, but like people to whom drinking wine has become ahabit. He did not reel about or talk nonsense, but he was in astate that was not normal; excited and self-satisfied.Nekhludoff also noticed that during the conversation PrincessSophia Vasilievna kept glancing uneasily at the window, throughwhich a slanting ray of sunshine, which might vividly light upher aged face, was beginning to creep up.

　　"How true," she said in reference to some remark of Kolosoff's,touching the button of an electric bell by the side of her couch.The doctor rose, and, like one who is at home, left the roomwithout saying anything. Sophia Vasilievna followed him with hereyes and continued the conversation.

　　"Please, Philip, draw these curtains," she said, pointing to thewindow, when the handsome footman came in answer to the bell."No; whatever you may say, there is some mysticism in him;without mysticism there can be no poetry," she said, with one ofher black eyes angrily following the footman's movements as hewas drawing the curtains. "Without poetry, mysticism issuperstition; without mysticism, poetry is--prose," shecontinued, with a sorrowful smile, still not losing sight of thefootman and the curtains. "Philip, not that curtain; the one onthe large window," she exclaimed, in a suffering tone. SophiaVasilievna was evidently pitying herself for having to make theeffort of saying these words; and, to soothe her feelings, sheraised to her lips a scented, smoking cigarette with her jewel-bedecked fingers.

　　The broad-chested, muscular, handsome Philip bowed slightly, asif begging pardon; and stepping lightly across the carpet withhis broad-calved, strong, legs, obediently and silently went tothe other window, and, looking at the princess, carefully beganto arrange the curtain so that not a single ray dared fall onher. But again he did not satisfy her, and again she had tointerrupt the conversation about mysticism, and correct in amartyred tone the unintelligent Philip, who was tormenting her sopitilessly. For a moment a light flashed in Philip's eyes.

　　"'The devil take you! What do you want?' was probably what hesaid to himself," thought Nekhludoff, who had been observing allthis scene. But the strong, handsome Philip at once managed toconceal the signs of his impatience, and went on quietly carryingout the orders of the worn, weak, false Sophia Vasilievna.

　　"Of course, there is a good deal of truth in Lombroso'steaching," said Kolosoff, lolling back in the low chair andlooking at Sophia Vasilievna with sleepy eyes; "but heover-stepped the mark. Oh, yes."

　　"And you? Do you believe in heredity?" asked Sophia Vasilievna,turning to Nekhludoff, whose silence annoyed her. "In heredity?"he asked. "No, I don't." At this moment his whole mind was takenup by strange images that in some unaccountable way rose up inhis imagination. By the side of this strong and handsome Philiphe seemed at this minute to see the nude figure of Kolosoff as anartist's model; with his stomach like a melon, his bald head, andhis arms without muscle, like pestles. In the same dim way thelimbs of Sophia Vasilievna, now covered with silks and velvets,rose up in his mind as they must be in reality; but this mentalpicture was too horrid and he tried to drive it away.

　　"Well, you know Missy is waiting for you," she said. "Go and findher. She wants to play a new piece by Grieg to you; it is mostinteresting."

　　"She did not mean to play anything; the woman is simply lying,for some reason or other," thought Nekhludoff, rising andpressing Sophia Vasilievna's transparent and bony, ringed hand.

　　Katerina Alexeevna met him in the drawing-room, and at oncebegan, in French, as usual:

　　"I see the duties of a juryman act depressingly upon you."

　　"Yes; pardon me, I am in low spirits to-day, and have no right toweary others by my presence," said Nekhludoff.

　　"Why are you in low spirits?"

　　"Allow me not to speak about that," he said, looking round forhis hat.

　　"Don't you remember how you used to say that we must always tellthe truth? And what cruel truths you used to tell us all! Why doyou not wish to speak out now? Don't you remember, Missy?" shesaid, turning to Missy, who had just come in.

　　"We were playing a game then," said Nekhludoff, seriously; "onemay tell the truth in a game, but in reality we are so bad--Imean I am so bad--that I, at least, cannot tell the truth."

　　"Oh, do not correct yourself, but rather tell us why WE are sobad," said Katerina Alexeevna, playing with her words andpretending not to notice how serious Nekhludoff was.

　　"Nothing is worse than to confess to being in low spirits," saidMissy. "I never do it, and therefore am always in good spirits."

　　Nekhludoff felt as a horse must feel when it is being caressed tomake it submit to having the bit put in its mouth and beharnessed, and to-day he felt less than ever inclined to draw.

　　"Well, are you coming into my room? We will try to cheer you up."

　　He excused himself, saying he had to be at home, and began takingleave. Missy kept his hand longer than usual.

　　"Remember that what is important to you is important to yourfriends," she said. "Are you coming tomorrow?"

　　"I hardly expect to," said Nekhludoff; and feeling ashamed,without knowing whether for her or for himself, he blushed andwent away.

　　"What is it? Comme cela m'intrigue," said Katerina Alexeevna. "Imust find it out. I suppose it is some affaire d'amour propre; ilest tres susceptible, notre cher Mitia."

　　"Plutot une affaire d'amour sale," Missy was going to say, butstopped and looked down with a face from which all the light hadgone--a very different face from the one with which she hadlooked at him. She would not mention to Katerina Alexeevna even,so vulgar a pun, but only said, "We all have our good and our baddays."

　　"Is it possible that he, too, will deceive?" she thought; "afterall that has happened it would be very bad of him."

　　If Missy had had to explain what she meant by "after all that hashappened," she could have said nothing definite, and yet she knewthat he had not only excited her hopes but had almost given her apromise. No definite words had passed between them--only looksand smiles and hints; and yet she considered him as her own, andto lose him would be very hard.

　　CHAPTER XXVIII.

　　THE AWAKENING.

　　"Shameful and stupid, horrid and shameful!" Nekhludoff keptsaying to himself, as he walked home along the familiar streets.The depression he had felt whilst speaking to Missy would notleave him. He felt that, looking at it externally, as it were, hewas in the right, for he had never said anything to her thatcould be considered binding, never made her an offer; but he knewthat in reality he had bound himself to her, had promised to behers. And yet to-day he felt with his whole being that he couldnot marry her.

　　"Shameful and horrid, horrid and shameful!" he repeated tohimself, with reference not only to his relations with Missy butalso to the rest. "Everything is horrid and shameful," hemuttered, as he stepped into the porch of his house. "I am notgoing to have any supper," he said to his manservant Corney, whofollowed him into the dining-room, where the cloth was laid forsupper and tea. "You may go."

　　"Yes, sir," said Corney, yet he did not go, but began clearingthe supper off the table. Nekhludoff looked at Corney with afeeling of ill-will. He wished to be left alone, and it seemed tohim that everybody was bothering him in order to spite him. WhenCorney had gone away with the supper things, Nekhludoff moved tothe tea urn and was about to make himself some tea, but hearingAgraphena Petrovna's footsteps, he went hurriedly into thedrawing-room, to avoid being seen by her, and shut the door afterhim. In this drawing-room his mother had died three monthsbefore. On entering the room, in which two lamps with reflectorswere burning, one lighting up his father's and the other hismother's portrait, he remembered what his last relations with hismother had been. And they also seemed shameful and horrid. Heremembered how, during the latter period of her illness, he hadsimply wished her to die. He had said to himself that he wishedit for her sake, that she might be released from her suffering,but in reality he wished to be released from the sight of hersufferings for his own sake.

　　Trying to recall a pleasant image of her, he went up to look ather portrait, painted by a celebrated artist for 800 roubles. Shewas depicted in a very low-necked black velvet dress. There wassomething very revolting and blasphemous in this representationof his mother as a half-nude beauty. It was all the moredisgusting because three months ago, in this very room, lay thissame woman, dried up to a mummy. And he remembered how a few daysbefore her death she clasped his hand with her bony, discolouredfingers, looked into his eyes, and said: "Do not judge me, Mitia,if I have not done what I should," and how the tears came intoher eyes, grown pale with suffering.

　　"Ah, how horrid!" he said to himself, looking up once more at thehalf-naked woman, with the splendid marble shoulders and arms,and the triumphant smile on her lips. "Oh, how horrid!" The baredshoulders of the portrait reminded him of another, a young woman,whom he had seen exposed in the same way a few days before. Itwas Missy, who had devised an excuse for calling him into herroom just as she was ready to go to a ball, so that he should seeher in her ball dress. It was with disgust that he remembered herfine shoulders and arms. "And that father of hers, with hisdoubtful past and his cruelties, and the bel-esprit her mother,with her doubtful reputation." All this disgusted him, and alsomade him feel ashamed. "Shameful and horrid; horrid and shameful!"

　　"No, no," he thought; "freedom from all these false relationswith the Korchagins and Mary Vasilievna and the inheritance andfrom all the rest must be got. Oh, to breathe freely, to goabroad, to Rome and work at my picture! He remembered the doubtshe had about his talent for art. "Well, never mind; only just tobreathe freely. First Constantinople, then Rome. Only just to getthrough with this jury business, and arrange with the advocatefirst."

　　Then suddenly there arose in his mind an extremely vivid pictureof a prisoner with black, slightly-squinting eyes, and how shebegan to cry when the last words of the prisoners had been heard;and he hurriedly put out his cigarette, pressing it into theash-pan, lit another, and began pacing up and down the room. Oneafter another the scenes he had lived through with her rose inhis mind. He recalled that last interview with her. He rememberedthe white dress and blue sash, the early mass. "Why, I loved her,really loved her with a good, pure love, that night; I loved hereven before: yes, I loved her when I lived with my aunts thefirst time and was writing my composition." And he rememberedhimself as he had been then. A breath of that freshness, youthand fulness of life seemed to touch him, and he grew painfullysad. The difference between what he had been then and what he wasnow, was enormous--just as great, if not greater than thedifference between Katusha in church that night, and theprostitute who had been carousing with the merchant and whom theyjudged this morning. Then he was free and fearless, andinnumerable possibilities lay ready to open before him; now hefelt himself caught in the meshes of a stupid, empty, valueless,frivolous life, out of which he saw no means of extricatinghimself even if he wished to, which he hardly did. He rememberedhow proud he was at one time of his straightforwardness, how hehad made a rule of always speaking the truth, and really had beentruthful; and how he was now sunk deep in lies: in the mostdreadful of lies--lies considered as the truth by all whosurrounded him. And, as far as he could see, there was no way outof these lies. He had sunk in the mire, got used to it, indulgedhimself in it.

　　How was he to break off his relations with Mary Vasilievna andher husband in such a way as to be able to look him and hischildren in the eyes? How disentangle himself from Missy? Howchoose between the two opposites--the recognition that holdingland was unjust and the heritage from his mother? How atone forhis sin against Katusha? This last, at any rate, could not beleft as it was. He could not abandon a woman he had loved, andsatisfy himself by paying money to an advocate to save her fromhard labour in Siberia. She had not even deserved hard labour.Atone for a fault by paying money? Had he not then, when he gaveher the money, thought he was atoning for his fault?

　　And he clearly recalled to mind that moment when, having caughther up in the passage, he thrust the money into her bib and ranaway. "Oh, that money!" he thought with the same horror anddisgust he had then felt. "Oh, dear! oh, dear! how disgusting,"he cried aloud as he had done then. "Only a scoundrel, a knave,could do such a thing. And I am that knave, that scoundrel!" Hewent on aloud: "But is it possible?"--he stopped and stoodstill--"is it possible that I am really a scoundrel? . . .Well, who but I?" he answered himself. "And then, is this theonly thing?" he went on, convicting himself. "Was not my conducttowards Mary Vasilievna and her husband base and disgusting? Andmy position with regard to money? To use riches considered by meunlawful on the plea that they are inherited from my mother? Andthe whole of my idle, detestable life? And my conduct towardsKatusha to crown all? Knave and scoundrel! Let men judge me asthey like, I can deceive them; but myself I cannot deceive."

　　And, suddenly, he understood that the aversion he had lately, andparticularly to-day, felt for everybody--the Prince and SophiaVasilievna and Corney and Missy--was an aversion for himself.And, strange to say, in this acknowledgement of his basenessthere was something painful yet joyful and quieting.

　　More than once in Nekhludoff's life there had been what he calleda "cleansing of the soul." By "cleansing of the soul" he meant astate of mind in which, after a long period of sluggish innerlife, a total cessation of its activity, he began to clear outall the rubbish that had accumulated in his soul, and was thecause of the cessation of the true life. His soul neededcleansing as a watch does. After such an awakening Nekhludoffalways made some rules for himself which he meant to followforever after, wrote his diary, and began afresh a life which hehoped never to change again. "Turning over a new leaf," he calledit to himself in English. But each time the temptations of theworld entrapped him, and without noticing it he fell again, oftenlower than before.

　　Thus he had several times in his life raised and cleansedhimself. The first time this happened was during the summer hespent with his aunts; that was his most vital and rapturousawakening, and its effects had lasted some time. Anotherawakening was when he gave up civil service and joined the armyat war time, ready to sacrifice his life. But here the choking-upprocess was soon accomplished. Then an awakening came when heleft the army and went abroad, devoting himself to art.

　　From that time until this day a long period had elapsed withoutany cleansing, and therefore the discord between the demands ofhis conscience and the life he was leading was greater than ithad ever been before. He was horror-struck when he saw how greatthe divergence was. It was so great and the defilement socomplete that he despaired of the possibility of gettingcleansed. "Have you not tried before to perfect yourself andbecome better, and nothing has come of it?" whispered the voiceof the tempter within. "What is the use of trying any more? Areyou the only one?--All are alike, such is life," whispered thevoice. But the free spiritual being, which alone is true, alonepowerful, alone eternal, had already awakened in Nekhludoff, andhe could not but believe it. Enormous though the distance wasbetween what he wished to be and what he was, nothing appearedinsurmountable to the newly-awakened spiritual being.

　　"At any cost I will break this lie which binds me and confesseverything, and will tell everybody the truth, and act the truth,"he said resolutely, aloud. "I shall tell Missy the truth, tellher I am a profligate and cannot marry her, and have onlyuselessly upset her. I shall tell Mary Vasilievna. . . Oh, thereis nothing to tell her. I shall tell her husband that I,scoundrel that I am, have been deceiving him. I shall dispose ofthe inheritance in such a way as to acknowledge the truth. Ishall tell her, Katusha, that I am a scoundrel and have sinnedtowards her, and will do all I can to ease her lot. Yes, I willsee her, and will ask her to forgive me.

　　"Yes, I will beg her pardon, as children do." . . . Hestopped---"will marry her if necessary." He stopped again, foldedhis hands in front of his breast as he used to do when a littlechild, lifted his eyes, and said, addressing some one: "Lord,help me, teach me, come enter within me and purify me of all thisabomination."

　　He prayed, asking God to help him, to enter into him and cleansehim; and what he was praying for had happened already: the Godwithin him had awakened his consciousness. He felt himself onewith Him, and therefore felt not only the freedom, fulness andjoy of life, but all the power of righteousness. All, all thebest that a man could do he felt capable of doing.

　　His eyes filled with tears as he was saying all this to himself,good and bad tears: good because they were tears of joy at theawakening of the spiritual being within him, the being which hadbeen asleep all these years; and bad tears because they weretears of tenderness to himself at his own goodness.

　　He felt hot, and went to the window and opened it. The windowopened into a garden. It was a moonlit, quiet, fresh night; avehicle rattled past, and then all was still. The shadow of atall poplar fell on the ground just opposite the window, and allthe intricate pattern of its bare branches was clearly defined onthe clean swept gravel. To the left the roof of a coach-houseshone white in the moonlight, in front the black shadow of thegarden wall was visible through the tangled branches of thetrees.

　　Nekhludoff gazed at the roof, the moonlit garden, and the shadowsof the poplar, and drank in the fresh, invigorating air.

　　"How delightful, how delightful; oh, God, how delightful" hesaid, meaning that which was going on in his soul.

　　CHAPTER XXIX.

　　MASLOVA IN PRISON.

　　Maslova reached her cell only at six in the evening, tired andfootsore, having, unaccustomed as she was to walking, gone 10miles on the stony road that day. She was crushed by theunexpectedly severe sentence and tormented by hunger. During thefirst interval of her trial, when the soldiers were eating breadand hard-boiled eggs in her presence, her mouth watered and sherealised she was hungry, but considered it beneath her dignity tobeg of them. Three hours later the desire to eat had passed, andshe felt only weak. It was then she received the unexpectedsentence. At first she thought she had made a mistake; she couldnot imagine herself as a convict in Siberia, and could notbelieve what she heard. But seeing the quiet, business-like facesof judges and jury, who heard this news as if it were perfectlynatural and expected, she grew indignant, and proclaimed loudlyto the whole Court that she was not guilty. Finding that her crywas also taken as something natural and expected, and feelingincapable of altering matters, she was horror-struck and began toweep in despair, knowing that she must submit to the cruel andsurprising injustice that had been done her. What astonished hermost was that young men--or, at any rate, not old men--the samemen who always looked so approvingly at her (one of them, thepublic prosecutor, she had seen in quite a different humour) hadcondemned her. While she was sitting in the prisoners' roombefore the trial and during the intervals, she saw these menlooking in at the open door pretending they had to pass there onsome business, or enter the room and gaze on her with approval.And then, for some unknown reason, these same men had condemnedher to hard labour, though she was innocent of the charge laidagainst her. At first she cried, but then quieted down and satperfectly stunned in the prisoners' room, waiting to be led back.She wanted only two things now--tobacco and strong drink. In thisstate Botchkova and Kartinkin found her when they were led intothe same room after being sentenced. Botchkova began at once toscold her, and call her a "convict."

　　"Well! What have you gained? justified yourself, have you? Whatyou have deserved, that you've got. Out in Siberia you'll give upyour finery, no fear!"

　　Maslova sat with her hands inside her sleeves, hanging her headand looking in front of her at the dirty floor without moving,only saying: "I don't bother you, so don't you bother me. I don'tbother you, do I?" she repeated this several times, and wassilent again. She did brighten up a little when Botchkova andKartinkin were led away and an attendant brought her threeroubles.

　　"Are you Maslova?" he asked. "Here you are; a lady sent it you,"he said, giving her the money.

　　"A lady--what lady?"

　　"You just take it. I'm not going to talk to you."

　　This money was sent by Kitaeva, the keeper of the house in whichshe used to live. As she was leaving the court she turned to theusher with the question whether she might give Maslova a littlemoney. The usher said she might. Having got permission, sheremoved the three-buttoned Swedish kid glove from her plump,white hand, and from an elegant purse brought from the back foldsof her silk skirt took a pile of coupons, [in Russia coupons cutoff interest-bearing papers are often used as money] just cutoff from the interest-bearing papers which she had earned in herestablishment, chose one worth 2 roubles and 50 copecks, addedtwo 20 and one 10-copeck coins, and gave all this to the usher.The usher called an attendant, and in his presence gave themoney.

　　"Belease to giff it accurately," said Carolina AlbertovnaKitaeva.

　　The attendant was hurt by her want of confidence, and that waswhy he treated Maslova so brusquely. Maslova was glad of themoney, because it could give her the only thing she now desired."If I could but get cigarettes and take a whiff!" she said toherself, and all her thoughts centred on the one desire to smokeand drink. She longed for spirits so that she tasted them andfelt the strength they would give her; and she greedily breathedin the air when the fumes of tobacco reached her from the door ofa room that opened into the corridor. But she had to wait long,for the secretary, who should have given the order for her to go,forgot about the prisoners while talking and even disputing withone of the advocates about the article forbidden by the censor.

　　At last, about five o'clock, she was allowed to go, and was ledaway through the back door by her escort, the Nijni man and theTchoovash. Then, still within the entrance to the Law Courts, shegave them 50 copecks, asking them to get her two rolls and somecigarettes. The Tchoovash laughed, took the money, and said, "Allright; I'll get 'em," and really got her the rolls and thecigarettes and honestly returned the change. She was not allowedto smoke on the way, and, with her craving unsatisfied, shecontinued her way to the prison. When she was brought to the gateof the prison, a hundred convicts who had arrived by rail werebeing led in. The convicts, bearded, clean-shaven, old, young,Russians, foreigners, some with their heads shaved and rattlingwith the chains on their feet, filled the anteroom with dust,noise and an acid smell of perspiration. Passing Maslova, all theconvicts looked at her, and some came up to her and brushed heras they passed.

　　"Ay, here's a wench--a fine one," said one.

　　"My respects to you, miss," said another, winking at her. Onedark man with a moustache, the rest of his face and the back ofhis head clean shaved, rattling with his chains and catching herfeet in them, sprang near and embraced her.

　　"What! don't you know your chum? Come, come; don't give yourselfairs," showing his teeth and his eyes glittering when she pushedhim away.

　　"You rascal! what are you up to?" shouted the inspector'sassistant, coming in from behind. The convict shrank back andjumped away. The assistant assailed Maslova.

　　"What are you here for?"

　　Maslova was going to say she had been brought back from the LawCourts, but she was so tired that she did not care to speak.

　　"She has returned from the Law Courts, sir," said one of thesoldiers, coming forward with his fingers lifted to his cap.

　　"Well, hand her over to the chief warder. I won't have this sortof thing."

　　"Yes, sir."

　　"Sokoloff, take her in!" shouted the assistant inspector.

　　The chief warder came up, gave Maslova a slap on the shoulder,and making a sign with his head for her to follow led her intothe corridor of the women's ward. There she was searched, and asnothing prohibited was found on her (she had hidden her box ofcigarettes inside a roll) she was led to the cell she had left inthe morning.

　　CHAPTER XXX.

　　THE CELL.

　　The cell in which Maslova was imprisoned was a large room 21 feetlong and 10 feet broad; it had two windows and a large stove.Two-thirds of the space were taken up by shelves used as beds.The planks they were made of had warped and shrunk. Opposite thedoor hung a dark-coloured icon with a wax candle sticking to itand a bunch of everlastings hanging down from it. By the door tothe right there was a dark spot on the floor on which stood astinking tub. The inspection had taken place and the women werelocked up for the night.

　　The occupants of this room were 15 persons, including threechildren. It was still quite light. Only two of the women werelying down: a consumptive woman imprisoned for theft, and anidiot who spent most of her time in sleep and who was arrestedbecause she had no passport. The consumptive woman was notasleep, but lay with wide open eyes, her cloak folded under herhead, trying to keep back the phlegm that irritated her throat,and not to cough.

　　Some of the other women, most of whom had nothing on but coarsebrown holland chemises, stood looking out of the window at theconvicts down in the yard, and some sat sewing. Among the latterwas the old woman, Korableva, who had seen Maslova off in themorning. She was a tall, strong, gloomy-looking woman; her fairhair, which had begun to turn grey on the temples, hung down in ashort plait. She was sentenced to hard labour in Siberia becauseshe had killed her husband with an axe for making up to theirdaughter. She was at the head of the women in the cell, and foundmeans of carrying on a trade in spirits with them. Beside her satanother woman sewing a coarse canvas sack. This was the wife of arailway watchman, [There are small watchmen's cottages atdistances of about one mile from each other along the Russianrailways, and the watchmen or their wives have to meet everytrain.] imprisoned for three months because she did not come outwith the flags to meet a train that was passing, and an accidenthad occurred. She was a short, snub-nosed woman, with small,black eyes; kind and talkative. The third of the women who weresewing was Theodosia, a quiet young girl, white and rosy, verypretty, with bright child's eyes, and long fair plaits which shewore twisted round her head. She was in prison for attempting topoison her husband. She had done this immediately after herwedding (she had been given in marriage without her consent atthe age of 16) because her husband would give her no peace. Butin the eight months during which she had been let out on bail,she had not only made it up with her husband, but come to lovehim, so that when her trial came they were heart and soul to oneanother. Although her husband, her father-in-law, but especiallyher mother-in-law, who had grown very fond of her, did all theycould to get her acquitted, she was sentenced to hard labour inSiberia. The kind, merry, ever-smiling Theodosia had a place nextMaslova's on the shelf bed, and had grown so fond of her that shetook it upon herself as a duty to attend and wait on her. Twoother women were sitting without any work at the other end of theshelf bedstead. One was a woman of about 40, with a pale, thinface, who once probably had been very handsome. She sat with herbaby at her thin, white breast. The crime she had committed wasthat when a recruit was, according to the peasants' view,unlawfully taken from their village, and the people stopped thepolice officer and took the recruit away from him, she (an auntof the lad unlawfully taken) was the first to catch hold of thebridle of the horse on which he was being carried off. The other,who sat doing nothing, was a kindly, grey-haired old woman,hunchbacked and with a flat bosom. She sat behind the stove onthe bedshelf, and pretended to catch a fat four-year-old boy, whoran backwards and forwards in front of her, laughing gaily. Thisboy had only a little shirt on and his hair was cut short. As heran past the old woman he kept repeating, "There, haven't caughtme!" This old woman and her son were accused of incendiarism.She bore her imprisonment with perfect cheerfulness, but wasconcerned about her son, and chiefly about her "old man," who shefeared would get into a terrible state with no one to wash forhim. Besides these seven women, there were four standing at oneof the open windows, holding on to the iron bars. They weremaking signs and shouting to the convicts whom Maslova had metwhen returning to prison, and who were now passing through theyard. One of these women was big and heavy, with a flabby body,red hair, and freckled on her pale yellow face, her hands, andher fat neck. She shouted something in a loud, raucous voice, andlaughed hoarsely. This woman was serving her term for theft.Beside her stood an awkward, dark little woman, no bigger than achild of ten, with a long waist and very short legs, a red,blotchy face, thick lips which did not hide her long teeth, andeyes too far apart. She broke by fits and starts into screechinglaughter at what was going on in the yard. She was to be triedfor stealing and incendiarism. They called her Khoroshavka.Behind her, in a very dirty grey chemise, stood a thin,miserable-looking pregnant woman, who was to be tried forconcealment of theft. This woman stood silent, but kept smilingwith pleasure and approval at what was going on below. With thesestood a peasant woman of medium height, the mother of the boy whowas playing with the old woman and of a seven-year-old girl.These were in prison with her because she had no one to leavethem with. She was serving her term of imprisonment for illicitsale of spirits. She stood a little further from the windowknitting a stocking, and though she listened to the otherprisoners' words she shook her head disapprovingly, frowned, andclosed her eyes. But her seven-year-old daughter stood in herlittle chemise, her flaxen hair done up in a little pigtail, herblue eyes fixed, and, holding the red-haired woman by the skirt,attentively listened to the words of abuse that the women and theconvicts flung at each other, and repeated them softly, as iflearning them by heart. The twelfth prisoner, who paid noattention to what was going on, was a very tall, stately girl,the daughter of a deacon, who had drowned her baby in a well. Shewent about with bare feet, wearing only a dirty chemise. Thethick, short plait of her fair hair had come undone and hung downdishevelled, and she paced up and down the free space of thecell, not looking at any one, turning abruptly every time shecame up to the wall.

　　CHAPTER XXXI.

　　THE PRISONERS.

　　When the padlock rattled and the door opened to let Maslova intothe cell, all turned towards her. Even the deacon's daughterstopped for a moment and looked at her with lifted brows beforeresuming her steady striding up and down.

　　Korableva stuck her needle into the brown sacking and lookedquestioningly at Maslova through her spectacles. "Eh, eh, dearyme, so you have come back. And I felt sure they'd acquit you. Soyou've got it?" She took off her spectacles and put her work downbeside her on the shelf bed.

　　"And here have I and the old lady been saying, 'Why, it may wellbe they'll let her go free at once.' Why, it happens, ducky,they'll even give you a heap of money sometimes, that's sure,"the watchman's wife began, in her singing voice: "Yes, we werewondering, 'Why's she so long?' And now just see what it is.Well, our guessing was no use. The Lord willed otherwise," shewent on in musical tones.

　　"Is it possible? Have they sentenced you?" asked Theodosia, withconcern, looking at Maslova with her bright blue, child-likeeyes; and her merry young face changed as if she were going tocry.

　　Maslova did not answer, but went on to her place, the second fromthe end, and sat down beside Korableva.

　　"Have you eaten anything?" said Theodosia, rising and coming upto Maslova.

　　Maslova gave no reply, but putting the rolls on the bedstead,took off her dusty cloak, the kerchief off her curly black head,and began pulling off her shoes. The old woman who had beenplaying with the boy came up and stood in front of Maslova. "Tz,tz, tz," she clicked with her tongue, shaking her head pityingly.The boy also came up with her, and, putting out his upper lip,stared with wide open eyes at the roll Maslova had brought. WhenMaslova saw the sympathetic faces of her fellow-prisoners, herlips trembled and she felt inclined to cry, but she succeeded inrestraining herself until the old woman and the boy came up.When she heard the kind, pitying clicking of the old woman'stongue, and met the boy's serious eyes turned from the roll toher face, she could bear it no longer; her face quivered and sheburst into sobs.

　　"Didn't I tell you to insist on having a proper advocate?" saidNorableva. "Well, what is it? Exile?"

　　Maslova could not answer, but took from inside the roll a box ofcigarettes, on which was a picture of a lady with hair done upvery high and dress cut low in front, and passed the box toKorableva. Korableva looked at it and shook her head, chieflybecause see did not approve of Maslova's putting her money tosuch bad use; but still she took out a cigarette, lit it at thelamp, took a puff, and almost forced it into Maslova's hand.Maslova, still crying, began greedily to inhale the tobaccosmoke. "Penal servitude," she muttered, blowing out the smoke andsobbing.

　　"Don't they fear the Lord, the cursed soul-slayers?" mutteredKorableva, "sentencing the lass for nothing." At this moment thesound of loud, coarse laughter came from the women who were stillat the window. The little girl also laughed, and her childishtreble mixed with the hoarse and screeching laughter of theothers. One of the convicts outside had done something thatproduced this effect on the onlookers.

　　"Lawks! see the shaved hound, what he's doing," said thered-haired woman, her whole fat body shaking with laughter; andleaning against the grating she shouted meaning less obscenewords.

　　"Ugh, the fat fright's cackling," said Korableva, who dislikedthe red-haired woman. Then, turning to Maslova again, she asked:"How many years?"

　　"Four," said Maslova, and the tears ran down her cheeks in suchprofusion that one fell on the cigarette. Maslova crumpled it upangrily and took another.

　　Though the watchman's wife did not smoke she picked up thecigarette Maslova had thrown away and began straightening it out,talking unceasingly.

　　"There, now, ducky, so it's true," she said. "Truth's gone to thedogs and they do what they please, and here we were guessing thatyou'd go free. Norableva says, 'She'll go free.' I say, 'No,' sayI. 'No, dear, my heart tells me they'll give it her.' And so it'sturned out," she went on, evidently listening with pleasure toher own voice.

　　The women who had been standing by the window now also came up toMaslova, the convicts who had amused them having gone away. Thefirst to come up were the woman imprisoned for illicit trade inspirits, and her little girl. "Why such a hard sentence?" askedthe woman, sitting down by Maslova and knitting fast.

　　"Why so hard? Because there's no money. That's why! Had therebeen money, and had a good lawyer that's up to their tricks beenhired, they'd have acquitted her, no fear," said Korableva."There's what's-his-name--that hairy one with the long nose. He'dbring you out clean from pitch, mum, he would. Ah, if we'd onlyhad him!"

　　"Him, indeed," said Khoroshavka. "Why, he won't spit at you forless than a thousand roubles."

　　"Seems you've been born under an unlucky star," interrupted theold woman who was imprisoned for incendiarism. "Only think, toentice the lad's wife and lock him himself up to feed vermin, andme, too, in my old days--" she began to retell her story for thehundredth time. "If it isn't the beggar's staff it's the prison.Yes, the beggar's staff and the prison don't wait for aninvitation."

　　"Ah, it seems that's the way with all of them," said the spirittrader; and after looking at her little girl she put down herknitting, and, drawing the child between her knees, began tosearch her head with deft fingers. "Why do you sell spirits?" shewent on. "Why? but what's one to feed the children on?"

　　These words brought back to Maslova's mind her craving for drink.

　　"A little vodka," she said to Korableva, wiping the tears withher sleeve and sobbing less frequently.

　　"All right, fork out," said Korableva.

　　CHAPTER XXXII.

　　A PRISON QUARREL.

　　Maslova got the money, which she had also hidden in a roll, andpassed the coupon to Korableva. Korableva accepted it, though shecould not read, trusting to Khoroshavka, who knew everything, andwho said that the slip of paper was worth 2 roubles 50 copecks,then climbed up to the ventilator, where she had hidden a smallflask of vodka. Seeing this, the women whose places were furtheroff went away. Meanwhile Maslova shook the dust out of her cloakand kerchief, got up on the bedstead, and began eating a roll.

　　"I kept your tea for you," said Theodosia, getting down from theshelf a mug and a tin teapot wrapped in a rag, "but I'm afraid itis quite cold." The liquid was quite cold and tasted more of tinthan of tea, yet Maslova filled the mug and began drinking itwith her roll. "Finashka, here you are," she said, breaking off abit of the roll and giving it to the boy, who stood looking ather mouth.

　　Meanwhile Korableva handed the flask of vodka and a mug toMaslova, who offered some to her and to Khoroshavka. Theseprisoners were considered the aristocracy of the cell becausethey had some money, and shared what they possessed with theothers.

　　In a few moments Maslova brightened up and related merrily whathad happened at the court, and what had struck her most, i.e.,how all the men had followed her wherever she went. In the courtthey all looked at her, she said, and kept coming into theprisoners' room while she was there.

　　"One of the soldiers even says, 'It's all to look at you thatthey come.' One would come in, 'Where is such a paper?' orsomething, but I see it is not the paper he wants; he justdevours me with his eyes," she said, shaking her head. "Regularartists."

　　"Yes, that's so," said the watchman's wife, and ran on in hermusical strain, "they're like flies after sugar."

　　"And here, too," Maslova interrupted her, "the same thing. Theycan do without anything else. But the likes of them will gowithout bread sooner than miss that! Hardly had they brought meback when in comes a gang from the railway. They pestered me so,I did not know how to rid myself of them. Thanks to theassistant, he turned them off. One bothered so, I hardly gotaway."

　　"What's he like?" asked Khoroshevka.

　　"Dark, with moustaches."

　　"It must be him."

　　"Him--who?"

　　"Why, Schegloff; him as has just gone by."

　　"What's he, this Schegloff?"

　　"What, she don't know Schegloff? Why, he ran twice from Siberia.Now they've got him, but he'll run away. The warders themselvesare afraid of him," said Khoroshavka, who managed to exchangenotes with the male prisoners and knew all that went on in theprison. "He'll run away, that's flat."

　　"If he does go away you and I'll have to stay," said Korableva,turning to Maslova, "but you'd better tell us now what theadvocate says about petitioning. Now's the time to hand it in."

　　Maslova answered that she knew nothing about it.

　　At that moment the red-haired woman came up to the "aristocracy"with both freckled hands in her thick hair, scratching her headwith her nails.

　　"I'll tell you all about it, Katerina," she began. "First andforemost, you'll have to write down you're dissatisfied with thesentence, then give notice to the Procureur."

　　"What do you want here?" said Korableva angrily; "smell thevodka, do you? Your chatter's not wanted. We know what to dowithout your advice."

　　"No one's speaking to you; what do you stick your nose in for?"

　　"It's vodka you want; that's why you come wriggling yourself inhere."

　　"Well, offer her some," said Maslova, always ready to shareanything she possessed with anybody.

　　"I'll offer her something."

　　"Come on then," said the red-haired one, advancing towardsKorableva. "Ah! think I'm afraid of such as you?"

　　"Convict fright!"

　　"That's her as says it."

　　"Slut!"

　　"I? A slut? Convict! Murderess!" screamed the red-haired one.

　　"Go away, I tell you," said Korableva gloomily, but thered-haired one came nearer and Korableva struck her in the chest.The red-haired woman seemed only to have waited for this, andwith a sudden movement caught hold of Korableva's hair with onehand and with the other struck her in the face. Korableva seizedthis hand, and Maslova and Khoroshavka caught the red-hairedwoman by her arms, trying to pull her away, but she let go theold woman's hair with her hand only to twist it round her fist.Korableva, with her head bent to one side, was dealing out blowswith one arm and trying to catch the red-haired woman's hand withher teeth, while the rest of the women crowded round, screamingand trying to separate the fighters; even the consumptive onecame up and stood coughing and watching the fight. The childrencried and huddled together. The noise brought the woman warderand a jailer. The fighting women were separated; and Korableva,taking out the bits of torn hair from her head, and thered-haired one, holding her torn chemise together over her yellowbreast, began loudly to complain.

　　"I know, it's all the vodka. Wait a bit; I'll tell the inspectortomorrow. He'll give it you. Can't I smell it? Mind, get it allout of the way, or it will be the worse for you," said thewarder. "We've no time to settle your disputes. Get to yourplaces and be quiet."

　　But quiet was not soon re-established. For a long time the womenwent on disputing and explaining to one another whose fault itall was. At last the warder and the jailer left the cell, thewomen grew quieter and began going to bed, and the old woman wentto the icon and commenced praying.

　　"The two jailbirds have met," the red-haired woman suddenlycalled out in a hoarse voice from the other end of the shelfbeds, accompanying every word with frightfully vile abuse.

　　"Mind you don't get it again," Korableva replied, also addingwords of abuse, and both were quiet again.

　　"Had I not been stopped I'd have pulled your damned eyes out,"again began the red-haired one, and an answer of the same kindfollowed from Korableva. Then again a short interval and moreabuse. But the intervals became longer and longer, as when athunder-cloud is passing, and at last all was quiet.

　　All were in bed, some began to snore; and only the old woman, whoalways prayed a long time, went on bowing before the icon and thedeacon's daughter, who had got up after the warder left, waspacing up and down the room again. Maslova kept thinking that shewas now a convict condemned to hard labour, and had twice beenreminded of this--once by Botchkova and once by the red-hairedwoman--and she could not reconcile herself to the thought.Korableva, who lay next to her, turned over in her bed.

　　"There now," said Maslova in a low voice; "who would have thoughtit? See what others do and get nothing for it."

　　"Never mind, girl. People manage to live in Siberia. As for you,you'll not be lost there either," Korableva said, trying tocomfort her.

　　"I know I'll not be lost; still it is hard. It's not such a fateI want--I, who am used to a comfortable life."

　　"Ah, one can't go against God," said Korableva, with a sigh."One can't, my dear."

　　"I know, granny. Still, it's hard."

　　They were silent for a while.

　　"Do you hear that baggage?" whispered Korableva, drawingMaslova's attention to a strange sound proceeding from the otherend of the room.

　　This sound was the smothered sobbing of the red-haired woman. Thered-haired woman was crying because she had been abused and hadnot got any of the vodka she wanted so badly; also because sheremembered how all her life she had been abused, mocked at,offended, beaten. Remembering this, she pitied herself, and,thinking no one heard her, began crying as children cry, sniffingwith her nose and swallowing the salt tears.

　　"I'm sorry for her," said Maslova.

　　"Of course one is sorry," said Korableva, "but she shouldn't comebothering." Resurrection

　　CHAPTER XXXIII.

　　THE LEAVEN AT WORK--NEKHLUDOFF'S DOMESTIC CHANGES.

　　The next morning Nekhludoff awoke, conscious that something hadhappened to him, and even before he had remembered what it was heknew it to be something important and good.

　　"Katusha--the trial!" Yes, he must stop lying and tell the wholetruth.

　　By a strange coincidence on that very morning he received thelong-expected letter from Mary Vasilievna, the wife of theMarechal de Noblesse, the very letter he particularly needed.She gave him full freedom, and wished him happiness in hisintended marriage.

　　"Marriage!" he repeated with irony. "How far I am from all thatat present."

　　And he remembered the plans he had formed the day before, to tellthe husband everything, to make a clean breast of it, and expresshis readiness to give him any kind of satisfaction. But thismorning this did not seem so easy as the day before. And, then,also, why make a man unhappy by telling him what he does notknow? Yes, if he came and asked, he would tell him all, but to gopurposely and tell--no! that was unnecessary.

　　And telling the whole truth to Missy seemed just as difficultthis morning. Again, he could not begin to speak without offence.As in many worldly affairs, something had to remain unexpressed.Only one thing he decided on, i.e., not to visit there, and totell the truth if asked.

　　But in connection with Katusha, nothing was to remain unspoken."I shall go to the prison and shall tell her every thing, and askher to forgive me. And if need be--yes, if need be, I shall marryher," he thought.

　　This idea, that he was ready to sacrifice all on moral grounds,and marry her, again made him feel very tender towards himself.Concerning money matters he resolved this morning to arrange themin accord with his conviction, that the holding of landedproperty was unlawful. Even if he should not be strong enough togive up everything, he would still do what he could, notdeceiving himself or others.

　　It was long since he had met the coming day with so much energy.When Agraphena Petrovna came in, he told her, with more firmnessthan he thought himself capable of, that he no longer needed thislodging nor her services. There had been a tacit understandingthat he was keeping up so large and expensive an establishmentbecause he was thinking of getting married. The giving up of thehouse had, therefore, a special meaning. Agraphena Petrovnalooked at him in surprise.

　　"I thank you very much, Agraphena Petrovna, for all your care forme, but I no longer require so large a house nor so manyservants. If you wish to help me, be so good as to settle aboutthe things, put them away as it used to be done during mamma'slife, and when Natasha comes she will see to everything." Natashawas Nekhludoff's sister.

　　Agraphena Petrovna shook her head. "See about the things? Why,they'll be required again," she said.

　　"No, they won't, Agraphena Petrovna; I assure you they won't berequired," said Nekhludoff, in answer to what the shaking of herhead had expressed. "Please tell Corney also that I shall pay himtwo months' wages, but shall have no further need of him."

　　"It is a pity, Dmitri Ivanovitch, that you should think of doingthis," she said. "Well, supposing you go abroad, still you'llrequire a place of residence again."

　　"You are mistaken in your thoughts, Agraphena Petrovna; I am notgoing abroad. If I go on a journey, it will be to quite adifferent place." He suddenly blushed very red. "Yes, I must tellher," he thought; "no hiding; everybody must be told."

　　"A very strange and important thing happened to me yesterday. Doyou remember my Aunt Mary Ivanovna's Katusha?"

　　"Oh, yes. Why, I taught her how to sew."

　　"Well, this Katusha was tried in the Court and I was on thejury."

　　"Oh, Lord! What a pity!" cried Agraphena Petrovna. What was shebeing tried for?"

　　"Murder; and it is I have done it all."

　　"Well, now this is very strange; how could you do it all?"

　　"Yes, I am the cause of it all; and it is this that has alteredall my plans."

　　"What difference can it make to you?"

　　"This difference: that I, being the cause of her getting on tothat path, must do all I can to help her."

　　"That is just according to your own good pleasure; you are notparticularly in fault there. It happens to every one, and ifone's reasonable, it all gets smoothed over and forgotten," shesaid, seriously and severely. "Why should you place it to youraccount? There's no need. I had already heard before that she hadstrayed from the right path. Well, whose fault is it?"

　　"Mine! that's why I want to put it right."

　　"It is hard to put right."

　　"That is my business. But if you are thinking about yourself,then I will tell you that, as mamma expressed the wish--"

　　"I am not thinking about myself. I have been so bountifullytreated by the dear defunct, that I desire nothing. Lisenka" (hermarried niece) "has been inviting me, and I shall go to her whenI am not wanted any longer. Only it is a pity you should takethis so to heart; it happens to everybody."

　　"Well, I do not think so. And I still beg that you will help melet this lodging and put away the things. And please do not beangry with me. I am very, very grateful to you for all you havedone."

　　And, strangely, from the moment Nekhludoff realised that it washe who was so bad and disgusting to himself, others were nolonger disgusting to him; on the contrary, he felt a kindlyrespect for Agraphena Petrovna, and for Corney.

　　He would have liked to go and confess to Corney also, butCorney's manner was so insinuatingly deferential that he had notthe resolution to do it.

　　On the way to the Law Courts, passing along the same streets withthe same isvostchik as the day before, he was surprised what adifferent being he felt himself to be. The marriage with Missy,which only yesterday seemed so probable, appeared quiteimpossible now. The day before he felt it was for him to choose,and had no doubts that she would be happy to marry him; to-day hefelt himself unworthy not only of marrying, but even of beingintimate with her. "If she only knew what I am, nothing wouldinduce her to receive me. And only yesterday I was finding faultwith her because she flirted with N---. Anyhow, even if sheconsented to marry me, could I be, I won't say happy, but atpeace, knowing that the other was here in prison, and wouldto-day or to-morrow he taken to Siberia with a gang of otherprisoners, while I accepted congratulations and made calls withmy young wife; or while I count the votes at the meetings, forand against the motion brought forward by the rural inspection,etc., together with the Marechal de Noblesse, whom I abominablydeceive, and afterwards make appointments with his wife (howabominable!) or while I continue to work at my picture, whichwill certainly never get finished? Besides, I have no business towaste time on such things. I can do nothing of the kind now," hecontinued to himself, rejoicing at the change he felt withinhimself. "The first thing now is to see the advocate and find outhis decision, and then . . . then go and see her and tell hereverything."

　　And when he pictured to himself how he would see her, and tellher all, confess his sin to her, and tell her that he would doall in his power to atone for his sin, he was touched at his owngoodness, and the tears came to his eyes.

　　CHAPTER XXXIV.

　　THE ABSURDITY OF LAW--REFLECTIONS OF A JURYMAN.

　　On coming into the Law Courts Nekhludoff met the usher ofyesterday, who to-day seemed to him much to be pitied, in thecorridor, and asked him where those prisoners who had beensentenced were kept, and to whom one had to apply for permissionto visit them. The usher told him that the condemned prisonerswere kept in different places, and that, until they receivedtheir sentence in its final form, the permission to visit themdepended on the president. "I'll come and call you myself, andtake you to the president after the session. The president is noteven here at present. After the session! And now please come in;we are going to commence."

　　Nekhludoff thanked the usher for his kindness, and went into thejurymen's room. As he was approaching the room, the other jurymenwere just leaving it to go into the court. The merchant had againpartaken of a little refreshment, and was as merry as the daybefore, and greeted Nekhludoff like an old friend. And to-dayPeter Gerasimovitch did not arouse any unpleasant feelings inNekhludoff by his familiarity and his loud laughter. Nekhludoffwould have liked to tell all the jurymen about his relations toyesterday's prisoner. "By rights," he thought, "I ought to havegot up yesterday during the trial and disclosed my guilt."

　　He entered the court with the other jurymen, and witnessed thesame procedure as the day before.

　　"The judges are coming," was again proclaimed, and again threemen, with embroidered collars, ascended the platform, and therewas the same settling of the jury on the high-backed chairs, thesame gendarmes, the same portraits, the same priest, andNekhludoff felt that, though he knew what he ought to do, hecould not interrupt all this solemnity. The preparations for thetrials were just the same as the day before, excepting that theswearing in of the jury and the president's address to them wereomitted.

　　The case before the Court this day was one of burglary. Theprisoner, guarded by two gendarmes with naked swords, was a thin,narrow-chested lad of 20, with a bloodless, sallow face, dressedin a grey cloak. He sat alone in the prisoner's dock. This boywas accused of having, together with a companion, broken the lockof a shed and stolen several old mats valued at 3 roubles [therouble is worth a little over two shillings, and contains 100copecks] and 67 copecks. According to the indictment, apoliceman had stopped this boy as he was passing with hiscompanion, who was carrying the mats on his shoulder. The boy andhis companion confessed at once, and were both imprisoned. Theboy's companion, a locksmith, died in prison, and so the boy wasbeing tried alone. The old mats were lying on the table as theobjects of material evidence.  The business was conducted just inthe same manner as the day before, with the whole armoury ofevidence, proofs, witnesses, swearing in, questions, experts, andcross-examinations. In answer to every question put to him by thepresident, the prosecutor, or the advocate, the policeman (one ofthe witnesses) in variably ejected the words: "just so," or"Can't tell." Yet, in spite of his being stupefied, and rendereda mere machine by military discipline, his reluctance to speakabout the arrest of this prisoner was evident. Another witness,an old house proprietor, and owner of the mats, evidently a richold man, when asked whether the mats were his, reluctantlyidentified them as such. When the public prosecutor asked himwhat he meant to do with these mats, what use they were to him,he got angry, and answered: "The devil take those mats; I don'twant them at all.  Had I known there would be all this botherabout them I should not have gone looking for them, but wouldrather have added a ten-rouble note or two to them, only not tobe dragged here and pestered with questions. I have spent a loton isvostchiks.  Besides, I am not well. I have been sufferingfrom rheumatism for the last seven years." It was thus thewitness spoke.

　　The accused himself confessed everything, and looking roundstupidly, like an animal that is caught, related how it had allhappened. Still the public prosecutor, drawing up his shouldersas he had done the day before, asked subtle questions calculatedto catch a cunning criminal.

　　In his speech he proved that the theft had been committed from adwelling-place, and a lock had been broken; and that the boy,therefore, deserved a heavy punishment. The advocate appointed bythe Court proved that the theft was not committed from adwelling-place, and that, though the crime was a serious one, theprisoner was not so very dangerous to society as the prosecutorstated. The president assumed the role of absolute neutrality inthe same way as he had done on the previous day, and impressed onthe jury facts which they all knew and could not help knowing.Then came an interval, just as the day before, and they smoked;and again the usher called out "The judges are coming," and inthe same way the two gendarmes sat trying to keep awake andthreatening the prisoner with their naked weapons.

　　The proceedings showed that this boy was apprenticed by hisfather at a tobacco factory, where he remained five years. Thisyear he had been discharged by the owner after a strike, and,having lost his place, he wandered about the town without anywork, drinking all he possessed. In a traktir [cheap restaurant]he met another like himself, who had lost his place before theprisoner had, a locksmith by trade and a drunkard. One night,those two, both drunk, broke the lock of a shed and took thefirst thing they happened to lay hands on. They confessed all andwere put in prison, where the locksmith died while awaiting thetrial. The boy was now being tried as a dangerous creature, fromwhom society must be protected.

　　"Just as dangerous a creature as yesterday's culprit," thoughtNekhludoff, listening to all that was going on before him. "Theyare dangerous, and we who judge them? I, a rake, an adulterer, adeceiver. We are not dangerous. But, even supposing that this boyis the most dangerous of all that are here in the court, whatshould he done from a common-sense point of view when he hasbeen caught? It is clear that he is not an exceptional evil-doer,but a most ordinary boy; every one sees it--and that he hasbecome what he is simply because he got into circumstances thatcreate such characters, and, therefore, to prevent such a boyfrom going wrong the circumstances that create these unfortunatebeings must be done away with.

　　"But what do we do? We seize one such lad who happens to getcaught, knowing well that there are thousands like him whom wehave not caught, and send him to prison, where idleness, or mostunwholesome, useless labour is forced on him, in company ofothers weakened and ensnared by the lives they have led. And thenwe send him, at the public expense, from the Moscow to theIrkoutsk Government, in company with the most depraved of men.

　　"But we do nothing to destroy the conditions in which people likethese are produced; on the contrary, we support theestablishments where they are formed. These establishments arewell known: factories, mills, workshops, public-houses,gin-shops, brothels. And we do not destroy these places, but,looking at them as necessary, we support and regulate them. Weeducate in this way not one, but millions of people, and thencatch one of them and imagine that we have done something, thatwe have guarded ourselves, and nothing more can be expected ofus. Have we not sent him from the Moscow to the IrkoutskGovernment?" Thus thought Nekhludoff with unusual clearness andvividness, sitting in his high-backed chair next to the colonel,and listening to the different intonations of the advocates',prosecutor's, and president's voices, and looking at theirself-confident gestures. "And how much and what hard effort thispretence requires," continued Nekhludoff in his mind, glancinground the enormous room, the portraits, lamps, armchairs,uniforms, the thick walls and large windows; and picturing tohimself the tremendous size of the building, and the still moreponderous dimensions of the whole of this organisation, with itsarmy of officials, scribes, watchmen, messengers, not only inthis place, but all over Russia, who receive wages for carryingon this comedy which no one needs. "Supposing we spentone-hundredth of these efforts helping these castaways, whom wenow only regard as hands and bodies, required by us for our ownpeace and comfort. Had some one chanced to take pity on him andgiven some help at the time when poverty made them send him totown, it might have been sufficient," Nekhludoff thought, lookingat the boy's piteous face. "Or even later, when, after 12 hours'work at the factory, he was going to the public-house, led awayby his companions, had some one then come and said, 'Don't go,Vania; it is not right,' he would not have gone, nor got into badways, and would not have done any wrong.

　　"But no; no one who would have taken pity on him came across thisapprentice in the years he lived like a poor little animal in thetown, and with his hair cut close so as not to breed vermin, andran errands for the workmen. No, all he heard and saw, from theolder workmen and his companions, since he came to live in town,was that he who cheats, drinks, swears, who gives another athrashing, who goes on the loose, is a fine fellow. Ill, hisconstitution undermined by unhealthy labour, drink, anddebauchery--bewildered as in a dream, knocking aimlessly abouttown, he gets into some sort of a shed, and takes from there someold mats, which nobody needs--and here we, all of us educatedpeople, rich or comfortably off, meet together, dressed in goodclothes and fine uniforms, in a splendid apartment, to mock thisunfortunate brother of ours whom we ourselves have ruined.

　　"Terrible! It is difficult to say whether the cruelty or theabsurdity is greater, but the one and the other seem to reachtheir climax."

　　Nekhludoff thought all this, no longer listening to what wasgoing on , and he was horror-struck by that which was beingrevealed to him. He could not understand why he had not been ableto see all this before, and why others were unable to see it.

　　CHAPTER XXXV.

　　THE PROCUREUR--NEKHLUDOFF REFUSES TO SERVE.

　　During an interval Nekhludoff got up and went out into thecorridor, with the intention of not returning to the court. Letthem do what they liked with him, he could take no more part inthis awful and horrid tomfoolery.

　　Having inquired where the Procureur's cabinet was he wentstraight to him. The attendant did not wish to let him in, sayingthat the Procureur was busy, but Nekhludoff paid no heed and wentto the door, where he was met by an official. He asked to beannounced to the Procureur, saying he was on the jury and had avery important communication to make.

　　His title and good clothes were of assistance to him. Theofficial announced him to the Procureur, and Nekhludoff was letin. The Procureur met him standing, evidently annoyed at thepersistence with which Nekhludoff demanded admittance.

　　"What is it you want?" the Procureur asked, severely.

　　"I am on the jury; my name is Nekhludoff, and it is absolutelynecessary for me to see the prisoner Maslova," Nekhludoff said,quickly and resolutely, blushing, and feeling that he was takinga step which would have a decisive influence on his life.

　　The Procureur was a short, dark man, with short, grizzly hair,quick, sparkling eyes, and a thick beard cut close on hisprojecting lower jaw.

　　"Maslova? Yes, of course, I know. She was accused of poisoning,"the Procureur said, quietly. "But why do you want to see her?"And then, as if wishing to tone down his question, he added, "Icannot give you the permission without knowing why you requireit."

　　"I require it for a particularly important reason."

　　"Yes?" said the Procureur, and, lifting his eyes, lookedattentively at Nekhludoff. "Has her case been heard or not?"

　　"She was tried yesterday, and unjustly sentenced; she isinnocent."

　　"Yes? If she was sentenced only yesterday," went on theProcureur, paying no attention to Nekhludoff's statementconcerning Maslova's innocence, "she must still he in thepreliminary detention prison until the sentence is delivered inits final form. Visiting is allowed there only on certain days; Ishould advise you to inquire there."

　　"But I must see her as soon as possible," Nekhludoff said, hisjaw trembling as he felt the decisive moment approaching.

　　"Why must you?" said the Procureur, lifting his brows with someagitation.

　　"Because I betrayed her and brought her to the condition whichexposed her to this accusation."

　　"All the same, I cannot see what it has to do with visiting her."

　　"This: that whether I succeed or not in getting the sentencechanged I want to follow her, and--marry her," said Nekhludoff,touched to tears by his own conduct, and at the same time pleasedto see the effect he produced on the Procureur.

　　"Really! Dear me!" said the Procureur. "This is certainly a veryexceptional case. I believe you are a member of the Krasnoporskrural administration?" he asked, as if he remembered having heardbefore of this Nekhludoff, who was now making so strange adeclaration.

　　"I beg your pardon, but I do not think that has anything to dowith my request," answered Nekhludoff, flushing angrily.

　　"Certainly not," said the Procureur, with a scarcely perceptiblesmile and not in the least abashed; "only your wish is soextraordinary and so out of the common."

　　"Well; but can I get the permission?"

　　"The permission? Yes, I will give you an order of admittancedirectly. Take a seat."

　　He went up to the table, sat down, and began to write. "Pleasesit down."

　　Nekhludoff continued to stand.

　　Having written an order of admittance, and handed it toNekhludoff, the Procureur looked curiously at him.

　　"I must also state that I can no longer take part in thesessions."

　　"Then you will have to lay valid reasons before the Court, asyou, of course, know."

　　"My reasons are that I consider all judging not only useless, butimmoral."

　　"Yes," said the Procureur, with the same scarcely perceptiblesmile, as if to show that this kind of declaration was well knownto him and belonged to the amusing sort. "Yes, but you willcertainly understand that I as Procureur, can not agree with youon this point. Therefore, I should advise you to apply to theCourt, which will consider your declaration, and find it valid ornot valid, and in the latter case will impose a fine. Apply,then, to the Court."

　　"I have made my declaration, and shall apply nowhere else,"Nekhludoff said, angrily.

　　"Well, then, good-afternoon," said the Procureur, bowing hishead, evidently anxious to be rid of this strange visitor.

　　"Who was that you had here?" asked one of the members of theCourt, as he entered, just after Nekhludoff left the room.

　　"Nekhludoff, you know; the same that used to make all sorts ofstrange statements at the Krasnoporsk rural meetings. Just fancy!He is on the jury, and among the prisoners there is a woman orgirl sentenced to penal servitude, whom he says he betrayed, andnow he wants to marry her."

　　"You don't mean to say so."

　　"That's what he told me. And in such a strange state ofexcitement!"

　　"There is something abnormal in the young men of to-day."

　　"Oh, but he is not so very young."

　　"Yes. But how tiresome your famous Ivoshenka was. He carries theday by wearying one out. He talked and talked without end."

　　"Oh, that kind of people should be simply stopped, or they willbecome real obstructionists."

　　CHAPTER XXXVI.

　　NEKHLUDOFF ENDEAVOURS TO VISIT MASLOVA.

　　From the Procureur Nekhludoff went straight to the preliminarydetention prison. However, no Maslova was to be found there, andthe inspector explained to Nekhludoff that she would probably bein the old temporary prison. Nekhludoff went there.

　　Yes, Katerina Maslova was there.

　　The distance between the two prisons was enormous, and Nekhludoffonly reached the old prison towards evening. He was going up tothe door of the large, gloomy building, but the sentinel stoppedhim and rang. A warder came in answer to the bell. Nekhludoffshowed him his order of admittance, but the warder said he couldnot let him in without the inspector's permission. Nekhludoffwent to see the inspector. As he was going up the stairs he hearddistant sounds of some complicated bravura, played on the piano.When a cross servant girl, with a bandaged eye, opened the doorto him, those sounds seemed to escape from the room and to strikehis car. It was a rhapsody of Liszt's, that everybody was tiredof, splendidly played but only to one point. When that point wasreached the same thing was repeated. Nekhludoff asked thebandaged maid whether the inspector was in. She answered that hewas not in.

　　"Will he return soon?"

　　The rhapsody again stopped and recommenced loudly and brilliantlyagain up to the same charmed point.

　　"I will go and ask," and the servant went away.

　　"Tell him he is not in and won't be to-day; he is out visiting.What do they come bothering for?" came the sound of a woman'svoice from behind the door, and again the rhapsody rattled on andstopped, and the sound of a chair pushed back was heard. It wasplain the irritated pianist meant to rebuke the tiresome visitor,who had come at an untimely hour. "Papa is not in," a pale girlwith crimped hair said, crossly, coming out into the ante-room,but, seeing a young man in a good coat, she softened.

　　"Come in, please. . . . What is it you want?"

　　"I want to see a prisoner in this prison."

　　"A political one, I suppose?"

　　"No, not a political one. I have a permission from theProcureur."

　　"Well, I don't know, and papa is out; but come in, please," shesaid, again, "or else speak to the assistant. He is in the officeat present; apply there. What is your name?"

　　"I thank you," said Nekhludoff, without answering her question,and went out.

　　The door was not yet closed after him when the same lively tonesrecommenced. In the courtyard Nekhludoff met an officer withbristly moustaches, and asked for the assistant-inspector. It wasthe assistant himself. He looked at the order of admittance, butsaid that he could not decide to let him in with a pass for thepreliminary prison. Besides, it was too late. "Please to comeagain to-morrow. To morrow, at 10, everybody is allowed to go in.Come then, and the inspector himself will be at home. Then youcan have the interview either in the common room or, if theinspector allows it, in the office."

　　And so Nekhludoff did not succeed in getting an interview thatday, and returned home. As he went along the streets, excited atthe idea of meeting her, he no longer thought about the LawCourts, but recalled his conversations with the Procureur and theinspector's assistant. The fact that he had been seeking aninterview with her, and had told the Procureur, and had been intwo prisons, so excited him that it was long before he could calmdown. When he got home he at once fetched out his diary, that hadlong remained untouched, read a few sentences out of it, and thenwrote as follows:

　　"For two years I have not written anything in my diary, andthought I never should return to this childishness. Yet it is notchildishness, but converse with my own self, with this realdivine self which lives in every man. All this time that I sleptthere was no one for me to converse with. I was awakened by anextraordinary event on the 28th of April, in the Law Court, whenI was on the jury. I saw her in the prisoners' dock, the Katushabetrayed by me, in a prisoner's cloak, condemned to penalservitude through a strange mistake, and my own fault. I havejust been to the Procureur's and to the prison, but I was notadmitted. I have resolved to do all I can to see her, to confessto her, and to atone for my sin, even by a marriage. God help me.My soul is at peace and I am full of joy."

　　CHAPTER XXXVII.

　　MASLOVA RECALLS THE PAST.

　　That night Maslova lay awake a long time with her eyes openlooking at the door, in front of which the deacon's daughter keptpassing. She was thinking that nothing would induce her to go tothe island of Sakhalin and marry a convict, but would arrangematters somehow with one of the prison officials, the secretary,a warder, or even a warder's assistant. "Aren't they all giventhat way? Only I must not get thin, or else I am lost."

　　She thought of how the advocate had looked at her, and also thepresident, and of the men she met, and those who came in onpurpose at the court. She recollected how her companion, Bertha,who came to see her in prison, had told her about the studentwhom she had "loved" while she was with Kitaeva, and who hadinquired about her, and pitied her very much. She recalled manyto mind, only not Nekhludoff. She never brought back to mind thedays of her childhood and youth, and her love to Nekhludoff.That would have been too painful. These memories lay untouchedsomewhere deep in her soul; she had forgotten him, and neverrecalled and never even dreamt of him. To-day, in the court, shedid not recognise him, not only because when she last saw him hewas in uniform, without a beard, and had only a small moustacheand thick, curly, though short hair, and now was bald andbearded, but because she never thought about him. She had buriedhis memory on that terrible dark night when he, returning fromthe army, had passed by on the railway without stopping to callon his aunts. Katusha then knew her condition. Up to that nightshe did not consider the child that lay beneath her heart aburden. But on that night everything changed, and the childbecame nothing but a weight.

　　His aunts had expected Nekhludoff, had asked him to come and seethem in passing, but he had telegraphed that he could not come,as he had to be in Petersburg at an appointed time. When Katushaheard this she made up her mind to go to the station and see him.The train was to pass by at two o'clock in the night. Katushahaving helped the old ladies to bed, and persuaded a little girl,the cook's daughter, Mashka, to come with her, put on a pair ofold boots, threw a shawl over her head, gathered up her dress,and ran to the station.

　　It was a warm, rainy, and windy autumn night. The rain now pelteddown in warm, heavy drops, now stopped again. It was too dark tosee the path across the field, and in the wood it was pitchblack, so that although Katusha knew the way well, she got offthe path, and got to the little station where the train stoppedfor three minutes, not before, as she had hoped, but after thesecond bell had been rung. Hurrying up the platform, Katusha sawhim at once at the windows of a first-class carriage. Twoofficers sat opposite each other on the velvet-covered seats,playing cards. This carriage was very brightly lit up; on thelittle table between the seats stood two thick, dripping candles.He sat in his closefitting breeches on the arm of the seat,leaning against the back, and laughed. As soon as she recognisedhim she knocked at the carriage window with her benumbed hand,but at that moment the last bell rang, and the train first gave abackward jerk, and then gradually the carriages began to moveforward. One of the players rose with the cards in his hand, andlooked out. She knocked again, and pressed her face to thewindow, but the carriage moved on, and she went alongside lookingin. The officer tried to lower the window, but could not.Nekhludoff pushed him aside and began lowering it himself. Thetrain went faster, so that she had to walk quickly. The trainwent on still faster and the window opened. The guard pushed heraside, and jumped in. Katusha ran on, along the wet boards of theplatform, and when she came to the end she could hardly stopherself from falling as she ran down the steps of the platform.She was running by the side of the railway, though thefirst-class carriage had long passed her, and the second-classcarriages were gliding by faster, and at last the third-classcarriages still faster. But she ran on, and when the lastcarriage with the lamps at the back had gone by, she had alreadyreached the tank which fed the engines, and was unsheltered fromthe wind, which was blowing her shawl about and making her skirtcling round her legs. The shawl flew off her head, but still sheran on.

　　"Katerina Michaelovna, you've lost your shawl!" screamed thelittle girl, who was trying to keep up with her.

　　Katusha stopped, threw back her head, and catching hold of itwith both hands sobbed aloud. "Gone!" she screamed.

　　"He is sitting in a velvet arm-chair and joking and drinking, ina brightly lit carriage, and I, out here in the mud, in thedarkness, in the wind and the rain, am standing and weeping," shethought to herself; and sat down on the ground, sobbing so loudthat the little girl got frightened, and put her arms round her,wet as she was.

　　"Come home, dear," she said.

　　"When a train passes--then under a carriage, and there will be anend," Katusha was thinking, without heeding the girl.

　　And she made up her mind to do it, when, as it always happens,when a moment of quiet follows great excitement, he, thechild--his child--made himself known within her. Suddenly allthat a moment before had been tormenting her, so that it hadseemed impossible to live, all her bitterness towards him, andthe wish to revenge herself, even by dying, passed away; she grewquieter, got up, put the shawl on her head, and went home.

　　Wet, muddy, and quite exhausted, she returned, and from that daythe change which brought her where she now was began to operatein her soul. Beginning from that dreadful night, she ceasedbelieving in God and in goodness. She had herself believed inGod, and believed that other people also believed in Him; butafter that night she became convinced that no one believed, andthat all that was said about God and His laws was deception anduntruth. He whom she loved, and who had loved her--yes, she knewthat--had thrown her away; had abused her love. Yet he was thebest of all the people she knew. All the rest were still worse.All that afterwards happened to her strengthened her in thisbelief at every step. His aunts, the pious old ladies, turned herout when she could no longer serve them as she used to. And ofall those she met, the women used her as a means of gettingmoney, the men, from the old police officer down to the wardersof the prison, looked at her as on an object for pleasure. And noone in the world cared for aught but pleasure. In this belief theold author with whom she had come together in the second year ofher life of independence had strengthened her. He had told heroutright that it was this that constituted the happiness of life,and he called it poetical and aesthetic.

　　Everybody lived for himself only, for his pleasure, and all thetalk concerning God and righteousness was deception. And ifsometimes doubts arose in her mind and she wondered whyeverything was so ill-arranged in the world that all hurt eachother, and made each other suffer, she thought it best not todwell on it, and if she felt melancholy she could smoke, or,better still, drink, and it would pass.

　　CHAPTER XXXVIII.

　　SUNDAY IN PRISON--PREPARING FOR MASS.

　　On Sunday morning at five o'clock, when a whistle sounded in thecorridor of the women's ward of the prison, Korableva, who wasalready awake, called Maslova.

　　"Oh, dear! life again," thought Maslova, with horror,involuntarily breathing in the air that had become terriblynoisome towards the morning. She wished to fall asleep again, toenter into the region of oblivion, but the habit of fear overcamesleepiness, and she sat up and looked round, drawing her feetunder her. The women had all got up; only the elder children werestill asleep. The spirit-trader was carefully drawing a cloakfrom under the children, so as not to wake them. The watchman'swife was hanging up the rags to dry that served the baby asswaddling clothes, while the baby was screaming desperately inTheodosia's arms, who was trying to quiet it. The consumptivewoman was coughing with her hands pressed to her chest, while theblood rushed to her face, and she sighed loudly, almostscreaming, in the intervals of coughing. The fat, red-hairedwoman was lying on her back, with knees drawn up, and loudlyrelating a dream. The old woman accused of incendiarism wasstanding in front of the image, crossing herself and bowing, andrepeating the same words over and over again. The deacon'sdaughter sat on the bedstead, looking before her, with a dull,sleepy face. Khoroshavka was twisting her black, oily, coarsehair round her fingers. The sound of slipshod feet was heard inthe passage, and the door opened to let in two convicts, dressedin jackets and grey trousers that did not reach to their ankles.With serious, cross faces they lifted the stinking tub andcarried it out of the cell. The women went out to the taps in thecorridor to wash. There the red-haired woman again began aquarrel with a woman from another cell.

　　"Is it the solitary cell you want?" shouted an old jailer,slapping the red-haired woman on her bare, fat back, so that itsounded through the corridor. "You be quiet."

　　"Lawks! the old one's playful," said the woman, taking his actionfor a caress.

　　"Now, then, be quick; get ready for the mass." Maslova had hardlytime to do her hair and dress when the inspector came with hisassistants.

　　"Come out for inspection," cried a jailer.

　　Some more prisoners came out of other cells and stood in two rowsalong the corridor; each woman had to place her hand on theshoulder of the woman in front of her. They were all counted.

　　After the inspection the woman warder led the prisoners tochurch. Maslova and Theodosia were in the middle of a column ofover a hundred women, who had come out of different cells. Allwere dressed in white skirts, white jackets, and wore whitekerchiefs on their heads, except a few who had their own colouredclothes on. These were wives who, with their children, werefollowing their convict husbands to Siberia. The whole flight ofstairs was filled by the procession. The patter of softly-shodfeet mingled with the voices and now and then a laugh. Whenturning, on the landing, Maslova saw her enemy, Botchkova, infront, and pointed out her angry face to Theodosia. At the bottomof the stairs the women stopped talking. Bowing and crossingthemselves, they entered the empty church, which glistened withgilding. Crowding and pushing one another, they took their placeson the right.

　　After the women came the men condemned to banishment, thoseserving their term in the prison, and those exiled by theirCommunes; and, coughing loudly, they took their stand, crowdingthe left side and the middle of the church.

　　On one side of the gallery above stood the men sentenced to penalservitude in Siberia, who had been let into the church before theothers. Each of them had half his head shaved, and their presencewas indicated by the clanking of the chains on their feet. On theother side of the gallery stood those in preliminary confinement,without chains, their heads not shaved.

　　The prison church had been rebuilt and ornamented by a richmerchant, who spent several tens of thousands of roubles on it,and it glittered with gay colours and gold. For a time there wassilence in the church, and only coughing, blowing of noses, thecrying of babies, and now and then the rattling of chains, washeard. But at last the convicts that stood in the middle moved,pressed against each other, leaving a passage in the centre ofthe church, down which the prison inspector passed to take hisplace in front of every one in the nave.

　　CHAPTER XXXIX.

　　THE PRISON CHURCH--BLIND LEADERS OF THE BLIND.

　　The service began.

　　It consisted of the following. The priest, having dressed in astrange and very inconvenient garb, made of gold cloth, cut andarranged little bits of bread on a saucer, and then put them intoa cup with wine, repeating at the same time different names andprayers. Meanwhile the deacon first read Slavonic prayers,difficult to understand in themselves, and rendered still moreincomprehensible by being read very fast, and then sang them turnand turn about with the convicts. The contents of the prayerswere chiefly the desire for the welfare of the Emperor and hisfamily. These petitions were repeated many times, separately andtogether with other prayers, the people kneeling. Besides this,several verses from the Acts of the Apostles were read by thedeacon in a peculiarly strained voice, which made it impossibleto understand what he read, and then the priest read verydistinctly a part of the Gospel according to St. Mark, in whichit said that Christ, having risen from the dead before flying upto heaven to sit down at His Father's right hand, first showedHimself to Mary Magdalene, out of whom He had driven sevendevils, and then to eleven of His disciples, and ordered them topreach the Gospel to the whole creation, and the priest addedthat if any one did not believe this he would perish, but he thatbelieved it and was baptised should be saved, and should besidesdrive out devils and cure people by laying his hands on them,should talk in strange tongues, should take up serpents, and ifhe drank poison should not die, but remain well.

　　The essence of the service consisted in the supposition that thebits cut up by the priest and put by him into the wine, whenmanipulated and prayed over in a certain way, turned into theflesh and blood of God.

　　These manipulations consisted in the priest's regularly liftingand holding up his arms, though hampered by the gold cloth sackhe had on, then, sinking on to his knees and kissing the tableand all that was on it, but chiefly in his taking a cloth by twoof its corners and waving it regularly and softly over the silversaucer and golden cup. It was supposed that, at this point, thebread and the wine turned into flesh and blood; therefore, thispart of the service was performed with the greatest solemnity.

　　"Now, to the blessed, most pure, and most holy Mother of God,"the priest cried from the golden partition which divided part ofthe church from the rest, and the choir began solemnly to singthat it was very right to glorify the Virgin Mary, who had borneChrist without losing her virginity, and was therefore worthy ofgreater honour than some kind of cherubim, and greater glory thansome kind of seraphim. After this the transformation wasconsidered accomplished, and the priest having taken the napkinoff the saucer, cut the middle bit of bread in four, and put itinto the wine, and then into his mouth. He was supposed to haveeaten a bit of God's flesh and swallowed a little of His blood.Then the priest drew a curtain, opened the middle door in thepartition, and, taking the gold cup in his hands, came out of thedoor, inviting those who wished to do so also to come and eatsome of God's flesh and blood that was contained in the cup. Afew children appeared to wish to do so.

　　After having asked the children their names, the priest carefullytook out of the cup, with a spoon, and shoved a bit of breadsoaked in wine deep into the mouth of each child in turn, and thedeacon, while wiping the children's mouths, sang, in a merryvoice, that the children were eating the flesh and drinking theblood of God. After this the priest carried the cup back behindthe partition, and there drank all the remaining blood and ate upall the bits of flesh, and after having carefully sucked hismoustaches and wiped his mouth, he stepped briskly from behindthe partition, the soles of his calfskin boots creaking. Theprincipal part of this Christian service was now finished, butthe priest, wishing to comfort the unfortunate prisoners, addedto the ordinary service another. This consisted of his going upto the gilt hammered-out image (with black face and hands)supposed to represent the very God he had been eating,illuminated by a dozen wax candles, and proceeding, in a strange,discordant voice, to hum or sing the following words:

　　Jesu sweetest, glorified of the Apostles, Jesu lauded by themartyrs, almighty Monarch, save me, Jesu my Saviour. Jesu, mostbeautiful, have mercy on him who cries to Thee, Saviour Jesu.Born of prayer Jesu, all thy saints, all thy prophets, save andfind them worthy of the joys of heaven. Jesu, lover of men."

　　Then he stopped, drew breath, crossed himself, bowed to theground, and every one did the same--the inspector, the warders,the prisoners; and from above the clinking of the chains soundedmore unintermittently. Then he continued: "Of angels the Creatorand Lord of powers, Jesu most wonderful, the angels' amazement,Jesu most powerful, of our forefathers the Redeemer. Jesusweetest, of patriarchs the praise. Jesu most glorious, of kingsthe strength. Jesu most good, of prophets the fulfilment. Jesumost amazing, of martyrs the strength. Jesu most humble, of monksthe joy. Jesu most merciful, of priests the sweetness. Jesu mostcharitable, of the fasting the continence. Jesu most sweet, ofthe just the joy. Jesu most pure, of the celibates the chastity.Jesu before all ages of sinners the salvation. Jesu, son of God,have mercy on me."

　　Every time he repeated the word "Jesu" his voice became more andmore wheezy. At last he came to a stop, and holding up hissilk-lined cassock, and kneeling down on one knee, he stoopeddown to the ground and the choir began to sing, repeating thewords, "Jesu, Son of God, have mercy on me," and the convictsfell down and rose again, shaking back the hair that was left ontheir heads, and rattling with the chains that were bruisingtheir thin ankles.

　　This continued for a long time. First came the glorification,which ended with the words, "Have mercy on me." Then moreglorifications, ending with "Alleluia!" And the convicts made thesign of the cross, and bowed, first at each sentence, then afterevery two and then after three, and all were very glad when theglorification ended, and the priest shut the book with a sigh ofrelief and retired behind the partition. One last act remained.The priest took a large, gilt cross, with enamel medallions atthe ends, from a table, and came out into the centre of thechurch with it. First the inspector came up and kissed the cross,then the jailers, then the convicts, pushing and abusing eachother in whispers. The priest, talking to the inspector, pushedthe cross and his hand now against the mouths and now against thenoses of the convicts, who were trying to kiss both the cross andthe hand of the priest. And thus ended the Christian service,intended for the comfort and the teaching of these strayedbrothers.

　　CHAPTER XL.

　　THE HUSKS OF RELIGION.

　　And none of those present, from the inspector down to Maslova,seemed conscious of the fact that this Jesus, whose name thepriest repeated such a great number of times, and whom he praisedwith all these curious expressions, had forbidden the very thingsthat were being done there; that He had prohibited not only thismeaningless much-speaking and the blasphemous incantation overthe bread and wine, but had also, in the clearest words,forbidden men to call other men their master, and to pray intemples; and had ordered that every one should pray in solitude,had forbidden to erect temples, saying that He had come todestroy them, and that one should worship, not in a temple, butin spirit and in truth; and, above all, that He had forbidden notonly to judge, to imprison, to torment, to execute men, as wasbeing done here, but had prohibited any kind of violence, sayingthat He had come to give freedom to the captives.

　　No one present seemed conscious that all that was going on herewas the greatest blasphemy and a supreme mockery of that sameChrist in whose name it was being done. No one seemed to realisethat the gilt cross with the enamel medallions at the ends, whichthe priest held out to the people to be kissed, was nothing butthe emblem of that gallows on which Christ had been executed fordenouncing just what was going on here. That these priests, whoimagined they were eating and drinking the body and blood ofChrist in the form of bread and wine, did in reality eat anddrink His flesh and His blood, but not as wine and bits of bread,but by ensnaring "these little ones" with whom He identifiedHimself, by depriving them of the greatest blessings andsubmitting them to most cruel torments, and by hiding from menthe tidings of great joy which He had brought. That thought didnot enter into the mind of any one present.

　　The priest did his part with a quiet conscience, because he wasbrought up from childhood to consider that the only true faithwas the faith which had been held by all the holy men of oldentimes and was still held by the Church, and demanded by the Stateauthorities. He did not believe that the bread turned into flesh,that it was useful for the soul to repeat so many words, or thathe had actually swallowed a bit of God. No one could believethis, but he believed that one ought to hold this faith. Whatstrengthened him most in this faith was the fact that, forfulfilling the demands of this faith, he had for the last 15years been able to draw an income, which enabled him to keep hisfamily, send his son to a gymnasium and his daughter to a schoolfor the daughters of the clergy. The deacon believed in the samemanner, and even more firmly than the priest, for he hadforgotten the substance of the dogmas of this faith, and knewonly that the prayers for the dead, the masses, with and withoutthe acathistus, all had a definite price, which real Christiansreadily paid, and, therefore, he called out his "have mercy, havemercy," very willingly, and read and said what was appointed,with the same quiet certainty of its being necessary to do sowith which other men sell faggots, flour, or potatoes. The prisoninspector and the warders, though they had never understood orgone into the meaning of these dogmas and of all that went on inchurch, believed that they must believe, because the higherauthorities and the Tsar himself believed in it. Besides, thoughfaintly (and themselves unable to explain why), they felt thatthis faith defended their cruel occupations. If this faith didnot exist it would have been more difficult, perhaps impossible,for them to use all their powers to torment people, as they werenow doing, with a quiet conscience. The inspector was such akind-hearted man that he could not have lived as he was nowliving unsupported by his faith. Therefore, he stood motionless,bowed and crossed himself zealously, tried to feel touched whenthe song about the cherubims was being sung, and when thechildren received communion he lifted one of them, and held himup to the priest with his own hands.

　　The great majority of the prisoners believed that there lay amystic power in these gilt images, these vestments, candles,cups, crosses, and this repetition of incomprehensible words,"Jesu sweetest" and "have mercy"--a power through which might beobtained much convenience in this and in the future life. Only afew clearly saw the deception that was practised on the peoplewho adhered to this faith, and laughed at it in their hearts; butthe majority, having made several attempts to get theconveniences they desired, by means of prayers, masses, andcandles, and not having got them (their prayers remainingunanswered), were each of them convinced that their want ofsuccess was accidental, and that this organisation, approved bythe educated and by archbishops, is very important and necessary,if not for this, at any rate for the next life.

　　Maslova also believed in this way. She felt, like the rest, amixed sensation of piety and dulness. She stood at first in acrowd behind a railing, so that she could see no one but hercompanions; but when those to receive communion moved on, sheand Theodosia stepped to the front, and they saw the inspector,and, behind him, standing among the warders, a little peasant,with a very light beard and fair hair. This was Theodosia'shusband, and he was gazing with fixed eyes at his wife. Duringthe acathistus Maslova occupied herself in scrutinising him andtalking to Theodosia in whispers, and bowed and made the sign ofthe cross only when every one else did.

　　CHAPTER XLI.

　　VISITING DAY--THE MEN'S WARD.

　　Nekhludoff left home early. A peasant from the country was stilldriving along the side street and calling out in a voice peculiarto his trade, "Milk! milk! milk!"

　　The first warm spring rain had fallen the day before, and nowwherever the ground was not paved the grass shone green. Thebirch trees in the gardens looked as if they were strewn withgreen fluff, the wild cherry and the poplars unrolled their long,balmy buds, and in shops and dwelling-houses the doublewindow-frames were being removed and the windows cleaned.

　　In the Tolkoochi [literally, jostling market, where second-handclothes and all sorts of cheap goods are sold] market, whichNekhludoff had to pass on his way, a dense crowd was surgingalong the row of booths, and tattered men walked about sellingtop-boots, which they carried under their arms, and renovatedtrousers and waistcoats, which hung over their shoulders.

　　Men in clean coats and shining boots, liberated from thefactories, it being Sunday, and women with bright silk kerchiefson their heads and cloth jackets trimmed with jet, were alreadythronging at the door of the traktir. Policemen, with yellowcords to their uniforms and carrying pistols, were on duty,looking out for some disorder which might distract the ennui thatoppressed them. On the paths of the boulevards and on thenewly-revived grass, children and dogs ran about, playing, andthe nurses sat merrily chattering on the benches. Along thestreets, still fresh and damp on the shady side, but dry in themiddle, heavy carts rumbled unceasingly, cabs rattled andtramcars passed ringing by. The air vibrated with the pealing andclanging of church bells, that were calling the people to attendto a service like that which was now being conducted in theprison. And the people, dressed in their Sunday best, werepassing on their way to their different parish churches.

　　The isvostchik did not drive Nekhludoff up to the prison itself,but to the last turning that led to the prison.

　　Several persons--men and women--most of them carrying smallbundles, stood at this turning, about 100 steps from the prison.To the right there were several low wooden buildings; to theleft, a two-storeyed house with a signboard. The huge brickbuilding, the prison proper, was just in front, and the visitorswere not allowed to come up to it. A sentinel was pacing up anddown in front of it, and shouted at any one who tried to passhim.

　　At the gate of the wooden buildings, to the right, opposite thesentinel, sat a warder on a bench, dressed in uniform, with goldcords, a notebook in his hands. The visitors came up to him, andnamed the persons they wanted to see, and he put the names down.Nekhludoff also went up, and named Katerina Maslova. The warderwrote down the name.

　　"Why--don't they admit us yet?" asked Nekhludoff.

　　"The service is going on. When the mass is over, you'll beadmitted."

　　Nekhludoff stepped aside from the waiting crowd. A man intattered clothes, crumpled hat, with bare feet and red stripesall over his face, detached himself from the crowd, and turnedtowards the prison.

　　"Now, then, where are you going?" shouted the sentinel with thegun.

　　"And you hold your row," answered the tramp, not in the leastabashed by the sentinel's words, and turned back. "Well, ifyou'll not let me in, I'll wait. But, no! Must needs shout, as ifhe were a general."

　　The crowd laughed approvingly. The visitors were, for the greaterpart, badly-dressed people; some were ragged, but there were alsosome respectable-looking men and women. Next to Nekhludoff stooda clean-shaven, stout, and red-cheeked man, holding a bundle,apparently containing under-garments. This was the doorkeeper ofa bank; he had come to see his brother, who was arrested forforgery. The good-natured fellow told Nekhludoff the whole storyof his life, and was going to question him in turn, when theirattention was aroused by a student and a veiled lady, who droveup in a trap, with rubber tyres, drawn by a large thoroughbredhorse. The student was holding a large bundle. He came up toNekhludoff, and asked if and how he could give the rolls he hadbrought in alms to the prisoners. His fiancee wished it (thislady was his fiancee), and her parents had advised them to takesome rolls to the prisoners.

　　"I myself am here for the first time," said Nekhludoff, "anddon't know; but I think you had better ask this man," and hepointed to the warder with the gold cords and the book, sittingon the right.

　　As they were speaking, the large iron door with a window in itopened, and an officer in uniform, followed by another warder,stepped out. The warder with the notebook proclaimed that theadmittance of visitors would now commence. The sentinel steppedaside, and all the visitors rushed to the door as if afraid ofbeing too late; some even ran. At the door there stood a warderwho counted the visitors as they came in, saying aloud, 16, 17,and so on. Another warder stood inside the building and alsocounted the visitors as they entered a second door, touching eachone with his hand, so that when they went away again not onevisitor should be able to remain inside the prison and not oneprisoner might get out. The warder, without looking at whom hewas touching, slapped Nekhludoff on the back, and Nekhludoff felthurt by the touch of the warder's hand; but, remembering what hehad come about, he felt ashamed of feeling dissatisfied andtaking offence.

　　The first apartment behind the entrance doors was a large vaultedroom with iron bars to the small windows. In this room, which wascalled the meeting-room, Nekhludoff was startled by the sight ofa large picture of the Crucifixion.

　　"What's that for?" he thought, his mind involuntarily connectingthe subject of the picture with liberation and not withimprisonment.

　　He went on, slowly letting the hurrying visitors pass before, andexperiencing a mingled feeling of horror at the evil-doers lockedup in this building, compassion for those who, like Katusha andthe boy they tried the day before, must be here though guiltless,and shyness and tender emotion at the thought of the interviewbefore him. The warder at the other end of the meeting-room saidsomething as they passed, but Nekhludoff, absorbed by his ownthoughts, paid no attention to him, and continued to follow themajority of the visitors, and so got into the men's part of theprison instead of the women's.

　　Letting the hurrying visitors pass before him, he was the last toget into the interviewing-room. As soon as Nekhludoff opened thedoor of this room, he was struck by the deafening roar of ahundred voices shouting at once, the reason of which he did notat once understand. But when he came nearer to the people, he sawthat they were all pressing against a net that divided the roomin two, like flies settling on sugar, and he understood what itmeant. The two halves of the room, the windows of which wereopposite the door he had come in by, were separated, not by one,but by two nets reaching from the floor to the ceiling. The wirenets were stretched 7 feet apart, and soldiers were walking upand down the space between them. On the further side of the netswere the prisoners, on the nearer, the visitors. Between them wasa double row of nets and a space of 7 feet wide, so that theycould not hand anything to one another, and any one whose sightwas not very good could not even distinguish the face on theother side. It was also difficult to talk; one had to scream inorder to be heard.

　　On both sides were faces pressed close to the nets, faces ofwives, husbands, fathers, mothers, children, trying to see eachother's features and to say what was necessary in such a way asto be understood.

　　But as each one tried to be heard by the one he was talking to,and his neighbour tried to do the same, they did their best todrown each other's voices' and that was the cause of the din andshouting which struck Nekhludoff when he first came in. It wasimpossible to understand what was being said and what were therelations between the different people. Next Nekhludoff an oldwoman with a kerchief on her head stood trembling, her chinpressed close to the net, and shouting something to a youngfellow, half of whose head was shaved, who listened attentivelywith raised brows. By the side of the old woman was a young manin a peasant's coat, who listened, shaking his head, to a boyvery like himself. Next stood a man in rags, who shouted, wavinghis arm and laughing. Next to him a woman, with a good woollenshawl on her shoulders, sat on the floor holding a baby in herlap and crying bitterly. This was apparently the first time shesaw the greyheaded man on the other side in prison clothes, andwith his head shaved. Beyond her was the doorkeeper, who hadspoken to Nekhludoff outside; he was shouting with all his mightto a greyhaired convict on the other side.

　　When Nekhludoff found that he would have to speak in similarconditions, a feeling of indignation against those who were ableto make and enforce these conditions arose in him; he wassurprised that, placed in such a dreadful position, no one seemedoffended at this outrage on human feelings. The soldiers, theinspector, the prisoners themselves, acted as if acknowledgingall this to be necessary.

　　Nekhludoff remained in this room for about five minutes, feelingstrangely depressed, conscious of how powerless he was, and atvariance with all the world. He was seized with a curious moralsensation like seasickness.

　　CHAPTER XLII.

　　VISITING DAY--THE WOMEN'S WARD.

　　"Well, but I must do what I came here for," he said, trying topick up courage. "What is to be done now?" He looked round for anofficial, and seeing a thin little man in the uniform of anofficer going up and down behind the people, he approached him.

　　"Can you tell me, sir," he said, with exceedingly strainedpoliteness of manner, "where the women are kept, and where one isallowed to interview them?"

　　"Is it the women's ward you want to go to?"

　　"Yes, I should like to see one of the women prisoners,"Nekhludoff said, with the same strained politeness.

　　"You should have said so when you were in the hall. Who is it,then, that you want to see?"

　　"I want to see a prisoner called Katerina Maslova."

　　"Is she a political one?"

　　"No, she is simply . . ."

　　"What! Is she sentenced?"

　　"Yes; the day before yesterday she was sentenced," meeklyanswered Nekhludoff, fearing to spoil the inspector's goodhumour, which seemed to incline in his favour.

　　"If you want to go to the women's ward please to step this way,"said the officer, having decided from Nekhludoff's appearancethat he was worthy of attention. "Sideroff, conduct the gentlemanto the women's ward," he said, turning to a moustached corporalwith medals on his breast.

　　"Yes, sir."

　　At this moment heart-rending sobs were heard coming from some onenear the net.

　　Everything here seemed strange to Nekhludoff; but strangest ofall was that he should have to thank and feel obligation towardsthe inspector and the chief warders, the very men who wereperforming the cruel deeds that were done in this house.

　　The corporal showed Nekhludoff through the corridor, out of themen's into the women's interviewing-room.

　　This room, like that of the men, was divided by two wire nets;but it was much smaller, and there were fewer visitors and fewerprisoners, so that there was less shouting than in the men'sroom. Yet the same thing was going on here, only, between thenets instead of soldiers there was a woman warder, dressed in ablue-edged uniform jacket, with gold cords on the sleeves, and ablue belt. Here also, as in the men's room, the people werepressing close to the wire netting on both sides; on the nearerside, the townspeople in varied attire; on the further side, theprisoners, some in white prison clothes, others in their owncoloured dresses. The whole length of the net was taken up by thepeople standing close to it. Some rose on tiptoe to be heardacross the heads of others; some sat talking on the floor.

　　The most remarkable of the prisoners, both by her piercingscreams and her appearance, was a thin, dishevelled gipsy. Herkerchief had slipped off her curly hair, and she stood near apost in the middle of the prisoner's division, shoutingsomething, accompanied by quick gestures, to a gipsy man in ablue coat, girdled tightly below the waist. Next the gipsy man, asoldier sat on the ground talking to prisoner; next the soldier,leaning close to the net, stood a young peasant, with a fairbeard and a flushed face, keeping back his tears with difficulty.A pretty, fair-haired prisoner, with bright blue eyes, wasspeaking to him. These two were Theodosia and her husband. Nextto them was a tramp, talking to a broad-faced woman; then twowomen, then a man, then again a woman, and in front of each aprisoner. Maslova was not among them. But some one stood by thewindow behind the prisoners, and Nekhludoff knew it was she. Hisheart began to beat faster, and his breath stopped. The decisivemoment was approaching. He went up to the part of the net wherehe could see the prisoner, and recognised her at once. She stoodbehind the blue-eyed Theodosia, and smiled, listening to whatTheodosia was saying. She did not wear the prison cloak now, buta white dress, tightly drawn in at the waist by a belt, and veryfull in the bosom. From under her kerchief appeared the blackringlets of her fringe, just the same as in the court.

　　"Now, in a moment it will be decided," he thought.

　　"How shall I call her? Or will she come herself?"

　　"She was expecting Bertha; that this man had come to see hernever entered her head.

　　"Whom do you want?" said the warder who was walking between thenets, coming up to Nekhludoff.

　　"Katerina Maslova," Nekhludoff uttered, with difficulty.

　　"Katerina Maslova, some one to see you," cried the warder.

　　CHAPTER XLIII.

　　NEKHLUDOFF VISITS MASLOVA.

　　Maslova looked round, and with head thrown back and expandedchest, came up to the net with that expression of readiness whichhe well knew, pushed in between two prisoners, and gazed atNekhludoff with a surprised and questioning look. But, concludingfrom his clothing he was a rich man, she smiled.

　　"Is it me you want?" she asked, bringing her smiling face, withthe slightly squinting eyes, nearer the net.

　　"I, I--I wished to see "Nekhludoff did not know how to addressher. "I wished to see you--I--" He was not speaking louder thanusual.

　　"No; nonsense, I tell you!" shouted the tramp who stood next tohim. "Have you taken it or not?"

　　"Dying, I tell you; what more do you want?" some one else wasscreaming at his other side. Maslova could not hear whatNekhludoff was saying, but the expression of his face as he wasspeaking reminded her of him. She did not believe her own eyes;still the smile vanished from her face and a deep line ofsuffering appeared on her brow.

　　"I cannot hear what you are saying," she called out, wrinklingher brow and frowning more and more.

　　"I have come," said Nekhludoff. "Yes, I am doing my duty--I amconfessing," thought Nekhludoff; and at this thought the tearscame in his eyes, and he felt a choking sensation in his throat,and holding on with both hands to the net, he made efforts tokeep from bursting into tears.

　　"I say, why do you shove yourself in where you're not wanted?"some one shouted at one side of him.

　　"God is my witness; I know nothing," screamed a prisoner from theother side.

　　Noticing his excitement, Maslova recognised him.

　　"You're like . . . but no; I don't know you," she shouted,without looking at him, and blushing, while her face grew stillmore stern.

　　"I have come to ask you to forgive me," he said, in a loud butmonotonous voice, like a lesson learnt by heart. Having saidthese words he became confused; but immediately came the thoughtthat, if he felt ashamed, it was all the better; he had to bearthis shame, and he continued in a loud voice:

　　"Forgive me; I have wronged you terribly."

　　She stood motionless and without taking her squinting eyes offhim.

　　He could not continue to speak, and stepping away from the net hetried to suppress the sobs that were choking him.

　　The inspector, the same officer who had directed Nekhludoff tothe women's ward, and whose interest he seemed to have aroused,came into the room, and, seeing Nekhludoff not at the net, askedhim why he was not talking to her whom he wanted to see.Nekhludoff blew his nose, gave himself a shake, and, trying toappear calm, said:

　　"It's so inconvenient through these nets; nothing can be heard."

　　Again the inspector considered for a moment.

　　"Ah, well, she can be brought out here for awhile. MaryKarlovna," turning to the warder, "lead Maslova out."

　　A minute later Maslova came out of the side door. Steppingsoftly, she came up close to Nekhludoff, stopped, and looked upat him from under her brows. Her black hair was arranged inringlets over her forehead in the same way as it had been twodays ago; her face, though unhealthy and puffy, was attractive,and looked perfectly calm, only the glittering black eyes glancedstrangely from under the swollen lids.

　　"You may talk here," said the inspector, and shrugging hisshoulders he stepped aside with a look of surprise. Nekhludoffmoved towards a seat by the wall.

　　Maslova cast a questioning look at the inspector, and then,shrugging her shoulders in surprise, followed Nekhludoff to thebench, and having arranged her skirt, sat down beside him.

　　"I know it is hard for you to forgive me," he began, but stopped.His tears were choking him. "But though I can't undo the past, Ishall now do what is in my power. Tell me--"

　　"How have you managed to find me?" she said, without answeringhis question, neither looking away from him nor quite at him,with her squinting eyes.

　　"O God, help me! Teach me what to do," Nekhludoff thought,looking at her changed face. "I was on the jury the day beforeyesterday," he said. "You did not recognise me?"

　　"No, I did not; there was not time for recognitions. I did noteven look," she said.

　　"There was a child, was there not?" he asked.

　　"Thank God! he died at once," she answered, abruptly andviciously.

　　"What do you mean? Why?"

　　"I was so ill myself, I nearly died," she said, in the same quietvoice, which Nekhludoff had not expected and could notunderstand.

　　"How could my aunts have let you go?"

　　"Who keeps a servant that has a baby? They sent me off as soon asthey noticed. But why speak of this? I remember nothing. That'sall finished."

　　"No, it is not finished; I wish to redeem my sin."

　　"There's nothing to redeem. What's been has been and is passed,"she said; and, what he never expected, she looked at him andsmiled in an unpleasantly luring, yet piteous, manner.

　　Maslova never expected to see him again, and certainly not hereand not now; therefore, when she first recognised him, she couldnot keep back the memories which she never wished to revive. Inthe first moment she remembered dimly that new, wonderful worldof feeling and of thought which had been opened to her by thecharming young man who loved her and whom she loved, and then hisincomprehensible cruelty and the whole string of humiliations andsuffering which flowed from and followed that magic joy. Thisgave her pain, and, unable to understand it, she did what she wasalways in the habit of doing, she got rid of these memories byenveloping them in the mist of a depraved life. In the firstmoment, she associated the man now sitting beside her with thelad she had loved; but feeling that this gave her pain, shedissociated them again. Now, this well-dressed, carefully-got-upgentleman with perfumed beard was no longer the Nekhludoff whomshe had loved but only one of the people who made use ofcreatures like herself when they needed them, and whom creatureslike herself had to make use of in their turn as profitably asthey could; and that is why she looked at him with a luring smileand considered silently how she could best make use of him.

　　"That's all at an end," she said. "Now I'm condemned to Siberia,"and her lip trembled as she was saying this dreadful word.

　　"I knew; I was certain you were not guilty," said Nekhludoff.

　　"Guilty! of course not; as if I could be a thief or a robber."She stopped, considering in what way she could best get somethingout of him.

　　"They say here that all depends on the advocate," she began. "Apetition should be handed in, only they say it's expensive."

　　"Yes, most certainly," said Nekhludoff. "I have already spoken toan advocate."

　　"No money ought to be spared; it should be a good one," she said.

　　"I shall do all that is possible."

　　They were silent, and then she smiled again in the same way.

　　"And I should like to ask you . . . a little money if you can . .. not much; ten roubles, I do not want more," she said, suddenly.

　　"Yes, yes," Nekhludoff said, with a sense of confusion, and feltfor his purse.

　　She looked rapidly at the inspector, who was walking up and downthe room. "Don't give it in front of him; he'd take it away."

　　Nekhludoff took out his purse as soon as the inspector had turnedhis back; but had no time to hand her the note before theinspector faced them again, so he crushed it up in his hand.

　　"This woman is dead," Nekhludoff thought, looking at this oncesweet, and now defiled, puffy face, lit up by an evil glitter inthe black, squinting eyes which were now glancing at the hand inwhich he held the note, then following the inspector's movements,and for a moment he hesitated. The tempter that had been speakingto him in the night again raised its voice, trying to lead himout of the realm of his inner into the realm of his outer life,away from the question of what he should do to the question ofwhat the consequences would be, and what would he practical.

　　"You can do nothing with this woman," said the voice; "you willonly tie a stone round your neck, which will help to drown youand hinder you from being useful to others.

　　Is it not better to give her all the money that is here, saygood-bye, and finish with her forever?" whispered the voice.

　　But here he felt that now, at this very moment, something mostimportant was taking place in his soul--that his inner life was,as it were, wavering in the balance, so that the slightest effortwould make it sink to this side or the other. And he made thiseffort by calling to his assistance that God whom he had felt inhis soul the day before, and that God instantly responded. Heresolved to tell her everything now--at once.

　　"Katusha, I have come to ask you to forgive me, and you havegiven me no answer. Have you forgiven me? Will you ever forgiveme?" he asked.

　　She did not listen to him, but looked at his hand and at theinspector, and when the latter turned she hastily stretched outher hand, grasped the note, and hid it under her belt.

　　"That's odd, what you are saying there," she said, with a smileof contempt, as it seemed to him.

　　Nekhludoff felt that there was in her soul one who was his enemyand who was protecting her, such as she was now, and preventinghim from getting at her heart. But, strange to say, this did notrepel him, but drew him nearer to her by some fresh, peculiarpower. He knew that he must waken her soul, that this wasterribly difficult, but the very difficulty attracted him. He nowfelt towards her as he had never felt towards her or any one elsebefore. There was nothing personal in this feeling: he wantednothing from her for himself, but only wished that she might notremain as she now was, that she might awaken and become againwhat she had been.

　　"Katusha, why do you speak like that? I know you; I rememberyou--and the old days in Papovo."

　　"What's the use of recalling what's past?" she remarked, drily.

　　"I am recalling it in order to put it right, to atone for my sin,Katusha," and he was going to say that he would marry her, but,meeting her eyes, he read in them something so dreadful, socoarse, so repellent, that he could not go on.

　　At this moment the visitors began to go. The inspector came up toNekhludoff and said that the time was up.

　　"Good-bye; I have still much to say to you, but you see it isimpossible to do so now," said Nekhludoff, and held out his hand."I shall come again."

　　"I think you have said all."

　　She took his hand but did not press it.

　　"No; I shall try to see you again, somewhere where we can talk,and then I shall tell you what I have to say-something veryimportant."

　　"Well, then, come; why not?" she answered, and smiled with thathabitual, inviting, and promising smile which she gave to the menwhom she wished to please.

　　"You are more than a sister to me," said Nekhludoff.

　　"That's odd," she said again, and went behind the grating.

　　CHAPTER XLIV.

　　MASLOVA'S VIEW OF LIFE.

　　Before the first interview, Nekhludoff thought that when she sawhim and knew of his intention to serve her, Katusha would bepleased and touched, and would be Katusha again; but, to hishorror, he found that Katusha existed no more, and there wasMaslova in her place. This astonished and horrified him.

　　What astonished him most was that Katusha was not ashamed of herposition--not the position of a prisoner (she was ashamed ofthat), but her position as a prostitute. She seemed satisfied,even proud of it. And, yet, how could it be otherwise? Everybody,in order to be able to act, has to consider his occupationimportant and good. Therefore, in whatever position a person is,he is certain to form such a view of the life of men in generalwhich will make his occupation seem important and good.

　　It is usually imagined that a thief, a murderer, a spy, aprostitute, acknowledging his or her profession as evil, isashamed of it. But the contrary is true. People whom fate andtheir sin-mistakes have placed in a certain position, howeverfalse that position may be, form a view of life in general whichmakes their position seem good and admissible. In order to keepup their view of life, these people instinctively keep to thecircle of those people who share their views of life and theirown place in it. This surprises us, where the persons concernedare thieves, bragging about their dexterity, prostitutes vauntingtheir depravity, or murderers boasting of their cruelty. Thissurprises us only because the circle, the atmosphere in whichthese people live, is limited, and we are outside it. But can wenot observe the same phenomenon when the rich boast of theirwealth, i.e., robbery; the commanders in the army pride themselveson victories, i.e., murder; and those in high places vaunt theirpower, i.e., violence? We do not see the perversion in the viewsof life held by these people, only because the circle formed bythem is more extensive, and we ourselves are moving inside of it.

　　And in this manner Maslova had formed her views of life and ofher own position. She was a prostitute condemned to Siberia, andyet she had a conception of life which made it possible for herto be satisfied with herself, and even to pride herself on herposition before others.

　　According to this conception, the highest good for all menwithout exception--old, young, schoolboys, generals, educated anduneducated, was connected with the relation of the sexes;therefore, all men, even when they pretended to be occupied withother things, in reality took this view. She was an attractivewoman, and therefore she was an important and necessary person.The whole of her former and present life was a confirmation ofthe correctness of this conception.

　　With such a view of life, she was by no means the lowest, but avery important person. And Maslova prized this view of life morethan anything; she could not but prize it, for, if she lost theimportance that such a view of life gave her among men, she wouldlose the meaning of her life. And, in order not to lose themeaning of her life, she instinctively clung to the set thatlooked at life in the same way as she did. Feeling thatNekhludoff wanted to lead her out into another world, sheresisted him, foreseeing that she would have to lose her place inlife, with the self-possession and self-respect it gave her. Forthis reason she drove from her the recollections of her earlyyouth and her first relations with Nekhludoff. Theserecollections did not correspond with her present conception ofthe world, and were therefore quite rubbed out of her mind, or,rather, lay somewhere buried and untouched, closed up andplastered over so that they should not escape, as when bees, inorder to protect the result of their labour, will sometimesplaster a nest of worms. Therefore, the present Nekhludoff wasnot the man she had once loved with a pure love, but only a richgentleman whom she could, and must, make use of, and with whomshe could only have the same relations as with men in general.

　　"No, I could not tell her the chief thing," thought Nekhludoff,moving towards the front doors with the rest of the people. "Idid not tell her that I would marry her; I did not tell her so,but I will," he thought.

　　The two warders at the door let out the visitors, counting themagain, and touching each one with their hands, so that no extraperson should go out, and none remain within. The slap on hisshoulder did not offend Nekhludoff this time; he did not evennotice it.

　　CHAPTER XLV.

　　FANARIN, THE ADVOCATE--THE PETITION.

　　Nekhludoff meant to rearrange the whole of his external life, tolet his large house and move to an hotel, but Agraphena Petrovnapointed out that it was useless to change anything before thewinter. No one would rent a town house for the summer; anyhow, hewould have to live and keep his things somewhere. And so all hisefforts to change his manner of life (he meant to live moresimply: as the students live) led to nothing. Not only dideverything remain as it was, but the house was suddenly filledwith new activity. All that was made of wool or fur was taken outto be aired and beaten. The gate-keeper, the boy, the cook, andCorney himself took part in this activity. All sorts of strangefurs, which no one ever used, and various uniforms were taken outand hung on a line, then the carpets and furniture were broughtout, and the gate-keeper and the boy rolled their sleeves uptheir muscular arms and stood beating these things, keepingstrict time, while the rooms were filled with the smell ofnaphthaline.

　　When Nekhludoff crossed the yard or looked out of the window andsaw all this going on, he was surprised at the great number ofthings there were, all quite useless. Their only use, Nekhludoffthought, was the providing of exercise for Agraphena Petrovna,Corney, the gate-keeper, the boy, and the cook.

　　"But it's not worth while altering my manner of life now," hethought, "while Maslova's case is not decided. Besides, it is toodifficult. It will alter of itself when she will be set free orexiled, and I follow her."

　　On the appointed day Nekhludoff drove up to the advocateFanarin's own splendid house, which was decorated with huge palmsand other plants, and wonderful curtains, in fact, with all theexpensive luxury witnessing to the possession of much idle money,i.e., money acquired without labour, which only those possess whogrow rich suddenly. In the waiting-room, just as in a doctor'swaiting-room, he found many dejected-looking people sitting roundseveral tables, on which lay illustrated papers meant to amusethem, awaiting their turns to be admitted to the advocate. Theadvocate's assistant sat in the room at a high desk, and havingrecognised Nekhludoff, he came up to him and said he would go andannounce him at once. But the assistant had not reached the doorbefore it opened and the sounds of loud, animated voices wereheard; the voice of a middle-aged, sturdy merchant, with a redface and thick moustaches, and the voice of Fanarin himself.Fanarin was also a middle-aged man of medium height, with a wornlook on his face. Both faces bore the expression which you see onthe faces of those who have just concluded a profitable but notquite honest transaction.

　　"Your own fault, you know, my dear sir," Fanarin said, smiling.

　　"We'd all be in 'eaven were it not for hour sins."

　　"Oh. yes, yes; we all know that," and both laughed un-naturally.

　　"Oh, Prince Nekhludoff! Please to step in," said Fanarin, seeinghim, and, nodding once more to the merchant, he led Nekhludoffinto his business cabinet, furnished in a severely correct style.

　　"Won't you smoke?" said the advocate, sitting down oppositeNekhludoff and trying to conceal a smile, apparently stillexcited by the success of the accomplished transaction.

　　"Thanks; I have come about Maslova's case."

　　"Yes, yes; directly! But oh, what rogues these fat money bagsare!" he said. "You saw this here fellow. Why, he has abouttwelve million roubles, and he cannot speak correctly; and if hecan get a twenty-five rouble note out of you he'll have it, ifhe's to wrench it out with his teeth."

　　"He says "'eaven and hour,' and you say 'this here fellow,'"Nekhludoff thought, with an insurmountable feeling of aversiontowards this man who wished to show by his free and easy mannerthat he and Nekhludoff belonged to one and the same camp, whilehis other clients belonged to another.

　　"He has worried me to death--a fearful scoundrel. I felt I mustrelieve my feelings," said the advocate, as if to excuse hisspeaking about things that had no reference to business. "Well,how about your case? I have read it attentively, but do notapprove of it. I mean that greenhorn of an advocate has left novalid reason for an appeal."

　　"Well, then, what have you decided?"

　　"One moment. Tell him," he said to his assistant, who had justcome in, "that I keep to what I have said. If he can, it's allright; if not, no matter."

　　"But he won't agree."

　　"Well, no matter," and the advocate frowned.

　　"There now, and it is said that we advocates get our money fornothing," he remarked, after a pause. "I have freed one insolventdebtor from a totally false charge, and now they all flock to me.Yet every such case costs enormous labour. Why, don't we, too,'lose bits of flesh in the inkstand?' as some writer or other hassaid. Well, as to your case, or, rather, the case you are takingan interest in. It has been conducted abominably. There is nogood reason for appealing. Still," he continued, "we can but tryto get the sentence revoked. This is what I have noted down." Hetook up several sheets of paper covered with writing, and beganto read rapidly, slurring over the uninteresting legal terms andlaying particular stress on some sentences. "To the Court ofAppeal, criminal department, etc., etc. According to thedecisions, etc., the verdict, etc., So-and-so Maslova pronouncedguilty of having caused the death through poison of the merchantSmelkoff, and has, according to Statute 1454 of the penal code,been sentenced to Siberia," etc., etc. He stopped. Evidently, inspite of his being so used to it, he still felt pleasure inlistening to his own productions. "This sentence is the directresult of the most glaring judicial perversion and error," hecontinued, impressively, "and there are grounds for itsrevocation. Firstly, the reading of the medical report of theexamination of Smelkoff's intestines was interrupted by thepresident at the very beginning. This is point one."

　　"But it was the prosecuting side that demanded this reading,"Nekhludoff said, with surprise.

　　"That does not matter. There might have been reasons for thedefence to demand this reading, too."

　　"Oh, but there could have been no reason whatever for that."

　　"It is a ground for appeal, though. To continue: ' Secondly,' hewent on reading, 'when Maslova's advocate, in his speech for thedefence, wishing to characterise Maslova's personality, referredto the causes of her fall, he was interrupted by the presidentcalling him to order for the alleged deviation from the directsubject. Yet, as has been repeatedly pointed out by the Senate,the elucidation of the criminal's characteristics and his or hermoral standpoint in general has a significance of the firstimportance in criminal cases, even if only as a guide in thesettling of the question of imputation.' That's point two," hesaid, with a look at Nekhludoff.

　　"But he spoke so badly that no one could make anything of it,"Nekhludoff said, still more astonished.

　　"The fellow's quite a fool, and of course could not be expectedto say anything sensible," Fanarin said, laughing; "but, all thesame, it will do as a reason for appeal. Thirdly: 'The president,in his summing up, contrary to the direct decree of section 1,statute 801, of the criminal code, omitted to inform the jurywhat the judicial points are that constitute guilt; and did notmention that having admitted the fact of Maslova havingadministered the poison to Smelkoff, the jury had a right not toimpute the guilt of murder to her, since the proofs of wilfulintent to deprive Smelkoff of life were absent, and only topronounce her guilty of carelessness resulting in the death ofthe merchant, which she did not desire.' This is the chiefpoint."

　　"Yes; but we ought to have known that ourselves. It was ourmistake."

　　"And now the fourth point," the advocate continued. "The form ofthe answer given by the jury contained an evident contradiction.Maslova is accused of wilfully poisoning Smelkoff, her one objectbeing that of cupidity, the only motive to commit murder shecould have had. The jury in their verdict acquit her of theintent to rob, or participation in the stealing of valuables,from which it follows that they intended also to acquit her ofthe intent to murder, and only through a misunderstanding, whicharose from the incompleteness of the president's summing up,omitted to express it in due form in their answer. Therefore ananswer of this kind by the jury absolutely demanded theapplication of statutes 816 and 808 of the criminal code ofprocedure, i.e., an explanation by the president to the jury ofthe mistake made by them, and another debate on the question ofthe prisoner's guilt."

　　"Then why did the president not do it?"

　　"I, too, should like to know why," Fanarin said, laughing.

　　"Then the Senate will, of course, correct this error?"

　　"That will all depend on who will preside there at the time.Well, now, there it is. I have further said," he continued,rapidly, "a verdict of this kind gave the Court no right tocondemn Maslova to be punished as a criminal, and to applysection 3, statute 771 of the penal code to her case. This is adecided and gross violation of the basic principles of ourcriminal law. In view of the reasons stated, I have the honour ofappealing to you, etc., etc., the refutation, according to 909,910, and section 2, 912 and 928 statute of the criminal code,etc., etc. . . . to carry this case before another department ofthe same Court for a further examination. There; all that can bedone is done, but, to be frank, I have little hope of success,though, of course, it all depends on what members will be presentat the Senate. If you have any influence there you can but try."

　　"I do know some."

　　All right; only be quick about it. Else they'll all go off for achange of air; then you may have to wait three months before theyreturn. Then, in case of failure, we have still the possibilityof appealing to His Majesty. This, too, depends on the privateinfluence you can bring to work. In this case, too, I am at yourservice; I mean as to the working of the petition, not theinfluence."

　　"Thank you. Now as to your fees?"

　　"My assistant will hand you the petition and tell you."

　　"One thing more. The Procureur gave me a pass for visiting thisperson in prison, but they tell me I must also get a permissionfrom the governor in order to get an interview at another timeand in another place than those appointed. Is this necessary?"

　　"Yes, I think so. But the governor is away at present; avice-governor is in his place. And he is such an impenetrablefool that you'll scarcely be able to do anything with him."

　　"Is it Meslennikoff?"

　　"Yes."

　　"I know him," said Nekhludoff, and got up to go. At this moment ahorribly ugly, little, bony, snub-nosed, yellow-faced woman flewinto the room. It was the advocate's wife, who did not seem to bein the least bit troubled by her ugliness. She was attired in themost original manner; she seemed enveloped in something made ofvelvet and silk, something yellow and green, and her thin hairwas crimped.

　　She stepped out triumphantly into the ante-room, followed by atall, smiling man, with a greenish complexion, dressed in a coatwith silk facings, and a white tie. This was an author.Nekhludoff knew him by sight.

　　She opened the cabinet door and said, "Anatole, you must come tome. Here is Simeon Ivanovitch, who will read his poems, and youmust absolutely come and read about Garshin."

　　Nekhludoff noticed that she whispered something to her husband,and, thinking it was something concerning him, wished to go away,but she caught him up and said: "I beg your pardon, Prince, Iknow you, and, thinking an introduction superfluous, I beg you tostay and take part in our literary matinee. It will be mostinteresting. M. Fanarin will read."

　　"You see what a lot I have to do," said Fanarin, spreading outhis hands and smilingly pointing to his wife, as if to show howimpossible it was to resist so charming a creature.

　　Nekhludoff thanked the advocate's wife with extreme politenessfor the honour she did him in inviting him, but refused theinvitation with a sad and solemn look, and left the room.

　　"What an affected fellow!" said the advocate's wife, when he hadgone out.

　　In the ante-room the assistant handed him a ready-writtenpetition, and said that the fees, including the business with theSenate and the commission, would come to 1,000 roubles, andexplained that M. Fanarin did not usually undertake this kind ofbusiness, but did it only to oblige Nekhludoff.

　　"And about this petition. Who is to sign it?"

　　"The prisoner may do it herself, or if this is inconvenient, M.Fanarin can, if he gets a power of attorney from her."

　　Oh, no. I shall take the petition to her and get her to sign it,"said Nekhludoff, glad of the opportunity of seeing her before theappointed day.

　　CHAPTER XLVI.

　　A PRISON FLOGGING.

　　At the usual time the jailer's whistle sounded in the corridors ofthe prison, the iron doors of the cells rattled, bare feetpattered, heels clattered, and the prisoners who acted asscavengers passed along the corridors, filling the air withdisgusting smells. The prisoners washed, dressed, and came outfor revision, then went to get boiling water for their tea.

　　The conversation at breakfast in all the cells was very lively.It was all about two prisoners who were to be flogged that day.One, Vasiliev, was a young man of some education, a clerk, whohad killed his mistress in a fit of jealousy. Hisfellow-prisoners liked him because he was merry and generous andfirm in his behaviour with the prison authorities. He knew thelaws and insisted on their being carried out. Therefore he wasdisliked by the authorities. Three weeks before a jailer struckone of the scavengers who had spilt some soup over his newuniform. Vasiliev took the part of the scavenger, saying that itwas not lawful to strike a prisoner.

　　"I'll teach you the law," said the jailer, and gave Vasiliev ascolding. Vasiliev replied in like manner, and the jailer wasgoing to hit him, but Vasiliev seized the jailer's hands, heldthem fast for about three minutes, and, after giving the hands atwist, pushed the jailer out of the door. The jailer complainedto the inspector, who ordered Vasiliev to be put into a solitarycell.

　　The solitary cells were a row of dark closets, locked fromoutside, and there were neither beds, nor chairs, nor tables inthem, so that the inmates had to sit or lie on the dirty floor,while the rats, of which there were a great many in those cells,ran across them. The rats were so bold that they stole the breadfrom the prisoners, and even attacked them if they stoppedmoving. Vasiliev said he would not go into the solitary cell,because he had not done anything wrong; but they used force. Thenhe began struggling, and two other prisoners helped him to freehimself from the jailers. All the jailers assembled, and amongthem was Petrov, who was distinguished for his strength. Theprisoners got thrown down and pushed into the solitary cells.

　　The governor was immediately informed that something very like arebellion had taken place. And he sent back an order to flog thetwo chief offenders, Vasiliev and the tramp, Nepomnishy, givingeach thirty strokes with a birch rod. The flogging was appointedto take place in the women's interviewing-room.

　　All this was known in the prison since the evening, and it wasbeing talked about with animation in all the cells.

　　Korableva, Khoroshevka, Theodosia, and Maslova sat together intheir corner, drinking tea, all of them flushed and animated bythe vodka they had drunk, for Maslova, who now had a constantsupply of vodka, freely treated her companions to it.

　　"He's not been a-rioting, or anything," Korableva said, referringto Vasiliev, as she bit tiny pieces off a lump of sugar with herstrong teeth. "He only stuck up for a chum, because it's notlawful to strike prisoners nowadays."

　　"And he's a fine fellow, I've heard say," said Theodosia, who satbareheaded, with her long plaits round her head, on a log of woodopposite the shelf bedstead on which the teapot stood.

　　"There, now, if you were to ask HIM," the watchman's wife said toMaslova (by him she meant Nekhludoff).

　　"I shall tell him. He'll do anything for me," Maslova said,tossing her head, and smiling.

　　"Yes, but when is he coming? and they've already gone to fetchthem," said Theodosia. "It is terrible," she added, with a sigh.

　　"I once did see how they flogged a peasant in the village.Father-in-law, he sent me once to the village elder. Well, Iwent, and there" . . . The watchman's wife began her long story,which was interrupted by the sound of voices and steps in thecorridor above them.

　　The women were silent, and sat listening.

　　"There they are, hauling him along, the devils!" Khoroshavkasaid. "They'll do him to death, they will. The jailers are soenraged with him because he never would give in to them."

　　All was quiet again upstairs, and the watchman's wife finishedher story of how she was that frightened when she went into thebarn and saw them flogging a peasant, her inside turned at thesight, and so on. Khoroshevka related how Schegloff had beenflogged, and never uttered a sound. Then Theodosia put away thetea things, and Korableva and the watchman's wife took up theirsewing. Maslova sat down on the bedstead, with her arms round herknees, dull and depressed. She was about to lie down and try tosleep, when the woman warder called her into the office to see avisitor.

　　"Now, mind, and don't forget to tell him about us," the old woman(Menshova) said, while Maslova was arranging the kerchief on herhead before the dim looking-glass. "We did not set fire to thehouse, but he himself, the fiend, did it; his workman saw him doit, and will not damn his soul by denying it. You just tell toask to see my Mitri. Mitri will tell him all about it, as plainas can be. just think of our being locked up in prison when wenever dreamt of any ill, while he, the fiend, is enjoying himselfat the pub, with another man's wife."

　　"That's not the law," remarked Korableva.

　　"I'll tell him--I'll tell him," answered Maslova. "Suppose I haveanother drop, just to keep up courage," she added, with a wink;and Korableva poured out half a cup of vodka, which Maslovadrank. Then, having wiped her mouth and repeating the words "justto keep up courage," tossing her head and smiling gaily, shefollowed the warder along the corridor.

　　CHAPTER XLVII.

　　NEKHLUDOFF AGAIN VISITS MASLOVA.

　　Nekhludoff had to wait in the hall for a long time. When he hadarrived at the prison and rung at the entrance door, he handedthe permission of the Procureur to the jailer on duty who methim.

　　"No, no," the jailer on duty said hurriedly, "the inspector isengaged."

　　"In the office?" asked Nekhludoff.

　　"No, here in the interviewing-room.".

　　"Why, is it a visiting day to-day?

　　"No; it's special business."

　　"I should like to see him. What am I to do?" said Nekhludoff.

　　"When the inspector comes out you'll tell him--wait a bit," saidthe jailer.

　　At this moment a sergeant-major, with a smooth, shiny face andmoustaches impregnated with tobacco smoke, came out of a sidedoor, with the gold cords of his uniform glistening, andaddressed the jailer in a severe tone.

　　"What do you mean by letting any one in here? The office. . . ."

　　"I was told the inspector was here," said Nekhludoff, surprisedat the agitation he noticed in the sergeant-major's manner.

　　At this moment the inner door opened, and Petrov came out, heatedand perspiring.

　　"He'll remember it," he muttered, turning to the sergeant major.The latter pointed at Nekhludoff by a look, and Petrov knittedhis brows and went out through a door at the back.

　　"Who will remember it? Why do they all seem so confused? Why didthe sergeant-major make a sign to him? Nekhludoff thought.

　　The sergeant-major, again addressing Nekhludoff, said: "Youcannot meet here; please step across to the office." AndNekhludoff was about to comply when the inspector came out of thedoor at the back, looking even more confused than hissubordinates, and sighing continually. When he saw Nekhludoff heturned to the jailer.

　　"Fedotoff, have Maslova, cell 5, women's ward, taken to theoffice."

　　"Will you come this way, please," he said, turning to Nekhludoff.They ascended a steep staircase and entered a little room withone window, a writing-table, and a few chairs in it. Theinspector sat down.

　　"Mine are heavy, heavy duties," he remarked, again addressingNekhludoff, and took out a cigarette.

　　"You are tired, evidently," said Nekhludoff.

　　Tired of the whole of the service--the duties are very trying.One tries to lighten their lot and only makes it worse; my onlythought is how to get away. Heavy, heavy duties!"

　　Nekhludoff did not know what the inspector's particulardifficulties were, but he saw that to-day he was in a peculiarlydejected and hopeless condition, calling for pity."

　　"Yes, I should think the duties were heavy for a kind-heartedman," he said. "Why do you serve in this capacity?

　　"I have a family."

　　"But, if it is so hard--"

　　"Well, still you know it is possible to be of use in somemeasure; I soften down all I can. Another in my place wouldconduct the affairs quite differently. Why, we have more than2,000 persons here. And what persons! One must know how to managethem. It is easier said than done, you know. After all, they arealso men; one cannot help pitying them." The inspector begantelling Nekhludoff of a fight that had lately taken place amongthe convicts, which had ended by one man being killed.

　　The story was interrupted by the entrance of Maslova, who wasaccompanied by a jailer.

　　Nekhludoff saw her through the doorway before she had noticed theinspector. She was following the warder briskly, smiling andtossing her head. When she saw the inspector she suddenlychanged, and gazed at him with a frightened look; but, quicklyrecovering, she addressed Nekhludoff boldly and gaily.

　　"How d'you do?" she said, drawling out her words, andResurrection smilingly took his hand and shook it vigorously, notlike the first time.

　　"Here, I've brought you a petition to sign," said Nekhludoff,rather surprised by the boldness with which she greeted himto-day.

　　"The advocate has written out a petition which you will have tosign, and then we shall send it to Petersburg."

　　"All right! That can be done. Anything you like," she said, witha wink and a smile.

　　And Nekhludoff drew a folded paper from his pocket and went up tothe table.

　　"May she sign it here?" asked Nekhludoff, turning to theinspector.

　　"It's all right, it's all right! Sit down. Here's a pen; you canwrite?" said the inspector.

　　"I could at one time," she said; and, after arranging her skirtand the sleeves of her jacket, she sat down at the table, smiledawkwardly, took the pen with her small, energetic hand, andglanced at Nekhludoff with a laugh.

　　Nekhludoff told her what to write and pointed out the place whereto sign.

　　Sighing deeply as she dipped her pen into the ink, and carefullyshaking some drops off the pen, she wrote her name.

　　"Is it all?" she asked, looking from Nekhludoff to the inspector,and putting the pen now on the inkstand, now on the papers.

　　"I have a few words to tell you," Nekhludoff said, taking the penfrom her.

　　"All right; tell me," she said. And suddenly, as if rememberingsomething, or feeling sleepy, she grew serious.

　　The inspector rose and left the room, and Nekhludoff remainedwith her.

　　CHAPTER XLVIII.

　　MASLOVA REFUSES TO MARRY.

　　The jailer who had brought Maslova in sat on a windowsill at somedistance from them.

　　The decisive moment had come for Nekhludoff. He had beenincessantly blaming himself for not having told her the principalthing at the first interview, and was now determined to tell herthat he would marry her. She was sitting at the further side ofthe table. Nekhludoff sat down opposite her. It was light in theroom, and Nekhludoff for the first time saw her face quite near.He distinctly saw the crowsfeet round her eyes, the wrinklesround her mouth, and the swollen eyelids. He felt more sorry thanbefore. Leaning over the table so as not to be beard by thejailer--a man of Jewish type with grizzly whiskers, who sat bythe window--Nekhludoff said:

　　"Should this petition come to nothing we shall appeal to theEmperor. All that is possible shall be done."

　　"There, now, if we had had a proper advocate from the first," sheinterrupted. "My defendant was quite a silly. He did nothing butpay me compliments," she said, and laughed. "If it had then beenknown that I was acquainted with you, it would have been anothermatter. They think every one's a thief."

　　"How strange she is to-day," Nekhludoff thought, and was justgoing to say what he had on his mind when she began again:

　　"There's something I want to say. We have here an old woman; sucha fine one, d'you know, she just surprises every one; she isimprisoned for nothing, and her son, too, and everybody knowsthey are innocent, though they are accused of having set fire toa house. D'you know, hearing I was acquainted with you, she says:'Tell him to ask to see my son; he'll tell him all about it."'Thus spoke Maslova, turning her head from side to side, andglancing at Nekhludoff. "Their name's Menshoff. Well, will you doit? Such a fine old thing, you know; you can see at once she'sinnocent. You'll do it, there's a dear," and she smiled, glancedup at him, and then cast down her eyes.

　　"All right. I'll find out about them," Nekhludoff said, more andmore astonished by her free-and-easy manner. "But I was going tospeak to you about myself. Do you remember what I told you lasttime?"

　　"You said a lot last time. What was it you told me?" she said,continuing to smile and to turn her head from side to side.

　　"I said I had come to ask you to forgive me," he began.

　　"What's the use of that? Forgive, forgive, where's the good of--"

　　"To atone for my sin, not by mere words, but in deed. I have madeup my mind to marry you."

　　An expression of fear suddenly came over her face. Her squintingeyes remained fixed on him, and yet seemed not to be looking athim.

　　"What's that for?" she said, with an angry frown.

　　"I feel that it is my duty before God to do it."

　　"What God have you found now? You are not saying what you oughtto. God, indeed! What God? You ought to have remembered Godthen," she said, and stopped with her mouth open. It was only nowthat Nekhludoff noticed that her breath smelled of spirits, andthat he understood the cause of her excitement.

　　"Try and be calm," he said.

　　"Why should I be calm?" she began, quickly, flushing scarlet. "Iam a convict, and you are a gentleman and a prince. There's noneed for you to soil yourself by touching me. You go to yourprincesses; my price is a ten-rouble note."

　　"However cruelly you may speak, you cannot express what I myselfam feeling," he said, trembling all over; "you cannot imagine towhat extent I feel myself guilty towards you.

　　"Feel yourself guilty?" she said, angrily mimicking him. "You didnot feel so then, but threw me 100 roubles. That's your price."

　　"I know, I know; but what is to be done now?" said Nekhludoff. "Ihave decided not to leave you, and what I have said I shall do."

　　"And I say you sha'n't," she said, and laughed aloud.

　　"Katusha" he said, touching her hand.

　　"You go away. I am a convict and you a prince, and you've nobusiness here," she cried, pulling away her hand, her wholeappearance transformed by her wrath. "You've got pleasure out ofme in this life, and want to save yourself through me in the lifeto come. You are disgusting to me--your spectacles and the wholeof your dirty fat mug. Go, go!" she screamed, starting to herfeet.

　　The jailer came up to them.

　　"What are you kicking up this row for?' That won't--"

　　"Let her alone, please," said Nekhludoff.

　　"She must not forget herself," said the jailer. "Please wait alittle," said Nekhludoff, and the jailer returned to the window.

　　Maslova sat down again, dropping her eyes and firmly clasping hersmall hands.

　　Nekhludoff stooped over her, not knowing what to do.

　　"You do not believe me?" he said.

　　"That you mean to marry me? It will never be. I'll rather hangmyself. So there!"

　　"Well, still I shall go on serving you."

　　"That's your affair, only I don't want anything from you. I amtelling you the plain truth," she said. "Oh, why did I not diethen?" she added, and began to cry piteously.

　　Nekhludoff could not speak; her tears infected him.

　　She lifted her eyes, looked at him in surprise, and began to wipeher tears with her kerchief.

　　The jailer came up again and reminded them that it was time topart.

　　Maslova rose.

　　"You are excited. If it is possible, I shall come again tomorrow;you think it over," said Nekhludoff.

　　She gave him no answer and, without looking up, followed thejailer out of the room.

　　"Well, lass, you'll have rare times now," Korableva said, whenMaslova returned to the cell. "Seems he's mighty sweet on you;make the most of it while he's after you. He'll help you out.Rich people can do anything."

　　"Yes, that's so," remarked the watchman's wife, with her musicalvoice. "When a poor man thinks of getting married, there's many aslip 'twixt the cup and the lip; but a rich man need only make uphis mind and it's done. We knew a toff like that duckie. Whatd'you think he did?"

　　"Well, have you spoken about my affairs?" the old woman asked.

　　But Maslova gave her fellow-prisoners no answer; she lay down onthe shelf bedstead, her squinting eyes fixed on a corner of theroom, and lay there until the evening.

　　A painful struggle went on in her soul. What Nekhludoff had toldher called up the memory of that world in which she had sufferedand which she had left without having understood, hating it. Shenow feared to wake from the trance in which she was living. Nothaving arrived at any conclusion when evening came, she againbought some vodka and drank with her companions.

　　CHAPTER XLIX.

　　VERA DOUKHOVA.

　　"So this is what it means, this," thought Nekhludoff as he leftthe prison, only now fully understanding his crime. If he had nottried to expiate his guilt he would never have found out howgreat his crime was. Nor was this all; she, too, would never havefelt the whole horror of what had been done to her. He only nowsaw what he had done to the soul of this woman; only now she sawand understood what had been done to her.

　　Up to this time Nekhludoff had played with a sensation ofself-admiration, had admired his own remorse; now he was simplyfilled with horror. He knew he could not throw her up now, andyet he could not imagine what would come of their relations toone another.

　　Just as he was going out, a jailer, with a disagreeable,insinuating countenance, and a cross and medals on his breast,came up and handed him a note with an air of mystery.

　　"Here is a note from a certain person, your honour," he said toNekhludoff as he gave him the envelope.

　　"What person?"

　　"You will know when you read it. A political prisoner. I am inthat ward, so she asked me; and though it is against the rules,still feelings of humanity--" The jailer spoke in an unnaturalmanner.

　　Nekhludoff was surprised that a jailer of the ward wherepolitical prisoners were kept should pass notes inside the veryprison walls, and almost within sight of every one; he did notthen know that this was both a jailer and a spy. However, he tookthe note and read it on coming out of the prison.

　　The note was written in a bold hand, and ran as follows: Havingheard that you visit the prison, and are interested in the caseof a criminal prisoner, the desire of seeing you arose in me. Askfor a permission to see me. I can give you a good deal ofinformation concerning your protegee, and also our group.--Yoursgratefully, VERA DOUKHOVA."

　　Vera Doukhova had been a school-teacher in an out-of-the-wayvillage of the Novgorod Government, where Nekhludoff and somefriends of his had once put up while bear hunting. Nekhludoffgladly and vividly recalled those old days, and his acquaintancewith Doukhova. It was just before Lent, in an isolated spot, 40miles from the railway. The hunt had been successful; two bearshad been killed; and the company were having dinner beforestarting on their return journey, when the master of the hutwhere they were putting up came in to say that the deacon'sdaughter wanted to speak to Prince Nekhludoff. "Is she pretty?"some one asked. "None of that, please," Nekhludoff said, and rosewith a serious look on his face. Wiping his mouth, and wonderingwhat the deacon's daughter might want of him, he went into thehost's private hut.

　　There he found a girl with a felt hat and a warm cloak on--asinewy, ugly girl; only her eyes with their arched brows werebeautiful.

　　"Here, miss, speak to him," said the old housewife; "this is theprince himself. I shall go out meanwhile."

　　"In what way can I be of service to you?" Nekhludoff asked.

　　"I--I--I see you are throwing away your money on suchnonsense--on hunting," began the girl, in great confusion. "Iknow--I only want one thing--to be of use to the people, and Ican do nothing because I know nothing--" Her eyes were sotruthful, so kind, and her expression of resoluteness and yetbashfulness was so touching, that Nekhludoff, as it oftenhappened to him, suddenly felt as if he were in her position,understood, and sympathised.

　　"What can I do, then?"

　　"I am a teacher, but should like to follow a course of study; andI am not allowed to do so. That is, not that I am not allowed to;they'd allow me to, but I have not got the means. Give them tome, and when I have finished the course I shall repay you. I amthinking the rich kill bears and give the peasants drink; allthis is bad. Why should they not do good? I only want 80 roubles.But if you don't wish to, never mind," she added, gravely.

　　"On the contrary, I am very grateful to you for this opportunity.. . I will bring it at once," said Nekhludoff.

　　He went out into the passage, and there met one of his comrades,who had been overhearing his conversation. Paying no heed to hischaffing, Nekhludoff got the money out of his bag and took it toher.

　　"Oh, please, do not thank me; it is I who should thank you," hesaid.

　　It was pleasant to remember all this now; pleasant to rememberthat he had nearly had a quarrel with an officer who tried tomake an objectionable joke of it, and how another of his comradeshad taken his part, which led to a closer friendship betweenthem. How successful the whole of that hunting expedition hadbeen, and how happy he had felt when returning to the railwaystation that night. The line of sledges, the horses in tandem,glide quickly along the narrow road that lies through the forest,now between high trees, now between low firs weighed down by thesnow, caked in heavy lumps on their branches. A red light flashesin the dark, some one lights an aromatic cigarette. Joseph, abear driver, keeps running from sledge to sledge, up to his kneesin snow, and while putting things to rights he speaks about theelk which are now going about on the deep snow and gnawing thebark off the aspen trees, of the bears that are lying asleep intheir deep hidden dens, and his breath comes warm through theopening in the sledge cover. All this came back to Nekhludoff'smind; but, above all, the joyous sense of health, strength, andfreedom from care: the lungs breathing in the frosty air sodeeply that the fur cloak is drawn tightly on his chest, the finesnow drops off the low branches on to his face, his body is warm,his face feels fresh, and his soul is free from care,self-reproach, fear, or desire. How beautiful it was. And now, OGod! what torment, what trouble!

　　Evidently Vera Doukhova was a revolutionist and imprisoned assuch. He must see her, especially as she promised to advise himhow to lighten Maslova's lot.

　　CHAPTER L.

　　THE VICE-GOVERNOR OF THE PRISON.

　　Awaking early the next morning, Nekhludoff remembered what he haddone the day before, and was seized with fear.

　　But in spite of this fear, he was more determined than ever tocontinue what he had begun.

　　Conscious of a sense of duty, he left the house and went to seeMaslennikoff in order to obtain from him a permission to visitMaslova in prison, and also the Menshoffs--mother and son--aboutwhom Maslova had spoken to him. Nekhludoff had known thisMaslennikoff a long time; they had been in the regiment together.At that time Maslennikoff was treasurer to the regiment.

　　He was a kind-hearted and zealous officer, knowing and wishing toknow nothing beyond the regiment and the Imperial family. NowNekhludoff saw him as an administrator, who had exchanged theregiment for an administrative office in the government where helived. He was married to a rich and energetic woman, who hadforced him to exchange military for civil service. She laughed athim, and caressed him, as if he were her own pet animal.Nekhludoff had been to see them once during the winter, but thecouple were so uninteresting to him that he had not gone again.

　　At the sight of Nekhludoff Maslennikoff's face beamed all over.He had the same fat red face, and was as corpulent and as welldressed as in his military days. Then, he used to be alwaysdressed in a well-brushed uniform, made according to the latestfashion, tightly fitting his chest and shoulders; now, it was acivil service uniform he wore, and that, too, tightly fitted hiswell-fed body and showed off his broad chest, and was cutaccording to the latest fashion. In spite of the difference inage (Maslennikoff was 40), the two men were very familiar withone another.

　　"Halloo, old fellow! How good of you to come! Let us go and seemy wife. I have just ten minutes to spare before the meeting. Mychief is away, you know. I am at the head of the Governmentadministration," he said, unable to disguise his satisfaction.

　　"I have come on business."

　　"What is it?" said Maslennikoff, in an anxious and severe tone,putting himself at once on his guard.

　　"There is a person, whom I am very much interested in, in prison"(at the word "prison" Maslennikoff's face grew stern); "and Ishould like to have an interview in the office, and not in thecommon visiting-room. I have been told it depended on you."

　　"Certainly, mon cher," said Maslennikoff, putting both hands onNekhludoff's knees, as if to tone down his grandeur; "butremember, I am monarch only for an hour."

　　"Then will you give me an order that will enable me to see her?"

　　"It's a woman?"

　　"Yes."

　　"What is she there for?"

　　"Poisoning, but she has been unjustly condemned."

　　"Yes, there you have it, your justice administered by jury, ilsn'en font point d'autres," he said, for some unknown reason, inFrench. "I know you do not agree with me, but it can't be helped,c'est mon opinion bien arretee," he added, giving utterance to anopinion he had for the last twelve months been reading in theretrograde Conservative paper. "I know you are a Liberal."

　　"I don't know whether I am a Liberal or something else,"Nekhludoff said, smiling; it always surprised him to find himselfranked with a political party and called a Liberal, when hemaintained that a man should be heard before he was judged, thatbefore being tried all men were equal, that nobody at all oughtto be ill-treated and beaten, but especially those who had notyet been condemned by law. "I don't know whether I am a Liberalor not; but I do know that however had the present way ofconducting a trial is, it is better than the old."

　　"And whom have you for an advocate?"

　　"I have spoken to Fanarin."

　　"Dear me, Fanarin!" said Meslennikoff, with a grimace,recollecting how this Fanarin had examined him as a witness at atrial the year before and had, in the politest manner, held himup to ridicule for half an hour.

　　"I should not advise you to have anything to do with him.Fanarin est un homme tare."

　　"I have one more request to make," said Nekhludoff, withoutanswering him. "There's a girl whom I knew long ago, a teacher;she is a very pitiable little thing, and is now also imprisoned,and would like to see me. Could you give me a permission to visither?"

　　Meslennikoff bent his head on one side and considered.

　　"She's a political one?"

　　"Yes, I have been told so."

　　"Well, you see, only relatives get permission to visit politicalprisoners. Still, I'll give you an open order. Je sais que vousn'abuserez pas. What's the name of your protegee? Doukhova? Elleest jolie?"

　　"Hideuse."

　　Maslennikoff shook his head disapprovingly, went up to the table,and wrote on a sheet of paper, with a printed heading: "Thebearer, Prince Dmitri Ivanovitch Nekhludoff, is to be allowed tointerview in the prison office the meschanka Maslova, and alsothe medical assistant, Doukhova," and he finished with anelaborate flourish.

　　"Now you'll be able to see what order we have got there. And itis very difficult to keep order, it is so crowded, especiallywith people condemned to exile; but I watch strictly, and lovethe work. You will see they are very comfortable and contented.But one must know how to deal with them. Only a few days ago wehad a little trouble--insubordination; another would have calledit mutiny, and would have made many miserable, but with us it allpassed quietly. We must have solicitude on one hand, firmness andpower on the other," and he clenched the fat, white,turquoise-ringed fist, which issued out of the starched cuff ofhis shirt sleeve, fastened with a gold stud. "Solicitude and firmpower."

　　"Well, I don't know about that," said Nekhludoff. "I went theretwice, and felt very much depressed."

　　"Do you know, you ought to get acquainted with the CountessPassek," continued Maslennikoff, growing talkative. "She hasgiven herself up entirely to this sort of work. Elle faitbeaucoup de bien. Thanks to her--and, perhaps I may add withoutfalse modesty, to me--everything has been changed, changed insuch a way that the former horrors no longer exist, and they arereally quite comfortable there. Well, you'll see. There'sFanarin. I do not know him personally; besides, my socialposition keeps our ways apart; but he is positively a bad man,and besides, he takes the liberty of saying such things in thecourt--such things!"

　　"Well, thank you," Nekhludoff said, taking the paper, and withoutlistening further he bade good-day to his former comrade.

　　"And won't you go in to see my wife?"

　　"No, pray excuse me; I have no time now."

　　"Dear me, why she will never forgive me," said Maslennikoff,accompanying his old acquaintance down to the first landing, ashe was in the habit of doing to persons of not the greatest, butthe second greatest importance, with whom he classed Nekhludoff;"now do go in, if only for a moment."

　　But Nekhludoff remained firm; and while the footman and thedoor-keeper rushed to give him his stick and overcoat, and openedthe door, outside of which there stood a policeman, Nekhludoffrepeated that he really could not come in.

　　"Well, then; on Thursday, please. It is her 'at-home.' I willtell her you will come," shouted Maslennikoff from the stairs.

　　CHAPTER LI.

　　THE CELLS.

　　Nekhludoff drove that day straight from Maslennikoff's to theprison, and went to the inspector's lodging, which he now knew.He was again struck by the sounds of the same piano of inferiorquality; but this time it was not a rhapsody that was beingplayed, but exercises by Clementi, again with the same vigour,distinctness, and quickness. The servant with the bandaged eyesaid the inspector was in, and showed Nekhludoff to a smalldrawing-room, in which there stood a sofa and, in front of it, atable, with a large lamp, which stood on a piece of crochet work,and the paper shade of which was burnt on one side. The chiefinspector entered, with his usual sad and weary look.

　　"Take a seat, please. What is it you want?" he said, buttoning upthe middle button of his uniform.

　　"I have just been to the vice-governor's, and got this order fromhim. I should like to see the prisoner Maslova."

　　"Markova?" asked the inspector, unable to bear distinctly becauseof the music.

　　"Maslova!"

　　"Well, yes." The inspector got up and went to the door whenceproceeded Clementi's roulades.

　　"Mary, can't you stop just a minute?" he said, in a voice thatshowed that this music was the bane of his life. "One can't heara word."

　　The piano was silent, but one could hear the sound of reluctantsteps, and some one looked in at the door.

　　The inspector seemed to feel eased by the interval of silence,lit a thick cigarette of weak tobacco, and offered one toNekhludoff.

　　Nekhludoff refused.

　　"What I want is to see Maslova."

　　"Oh, yes, that can be managed. Now, then, what do you want?" hesaid, addressing a little girl of five or six, who came into theroom and walked up to her father with her head turned towardsNekhludoff, and her eyes fixed on him.

　　"There, now, you'll fall down," said the inspector, smiling, asthe little girl ran up to him, and, not looking where she wasgoing, caught her foot in a little rug.

　　"Well, then, if I may, I shall go."

　　"It's not very convenient to see Maslova to-day," said theinspector.

　　"How's that?"

　　"Well, you know, it's all your own fault," said the inspector,with a slight smile. "Prince, give her no money into her hands.If you like, give it me. I will keep it for her. You see, yougave her some money yesterday; she got some spirits (it's an evilwe cannot manage to root out), and to-day she is quite tipsy,even violent."

　　"Can this be true?"

　　"Oh, yes, it is. I have even been obliged to have recourse tosevere measures, and to put her into a separate cell. She is aquiet woman in an ordinary way. But please do not give her anymoney. These people are so--" What had happened the day beforecame vividly back to Nekhludoff's mind, and again he was seizedwith fear.

　　"And Doukhova, a political prisoner; might I see her?"

　　"Yes, if you like," said the inspector. He embraced the littlegirl, who was still looking at Nekhludoff, got up, and, tenderlymotioning her aside, went into the ante-room. Hardly had he gotinto the overcoat which the maid helped him to put on, and beforehe had reached the door, the distinct sounds of Clementi'sroulades again began.

　　"She entered the Conservatoire, but there is such disorder there.She has a great gift," said the inspector, as they went down thestairs. "She means to play at concerts."

　　The inspector and Nekhludoff arrived at the prison. The gateswere instantly opened as they appeared. The jailers, with theirfingers lifted to their caps, followed the inspector with theireyes. Four men, with their heads half shaved, who were carryingtubs filled with something, cringed when they saw the inspector.One of them frowned angrily, his black eyes glaring.

　　"Of course a talent like that must be developed; it would not doto bury it, but in a small lodging, you know, it is rather hard."The inspector went on with the conversation, taking no notice ofthe prisoners.

　　"Who is it you want to see?"

　　"Doukhova."

　　"Oh, she's in the tower. You'll have to wait a little," he said.

　　"Might I not meanwhile see the prisoners Menshoff, mother andson, who are accused of incendiarism?"

　　"Oh, yes. Cell No. 21. Yes, they can be sent for."

　　"But might I not see Menshoff in his cell?"

　　"Oh, you'll find the waiting-room more pleasant."

　　"No. I should prefer the cell. It is more interesting."

　　Well, you have found something to be interested in!"

　　Here the assistant, a smartly-dressed officer, entered the sidedoor.

　　"Here, see the Prince into Menshoff's cell, No. 21," said theinspector to his assistant, "and then take him to the office. AndI'll go and call--What's her name?" Vera Doukhova."

　　The inspector's assistant was young, with dyed moustaches, anddiffusing the smell of eau-de-cologne. "This way, please," hesaid to Nekhludoff, with a pleasant smile. "Our establishmentinterests you?"

　　"Yes, it does interest me; and, besides, I look upon it as a dutyto help a man who I heard was confined here, though innocent."

　　The assistant shrugged his shoulders.

　　"Yes, that may happen," he said quietly, politely stepping asideto let the visitor enter, the stinking corridor first. "But italso happens that they lie. Here we are."

　　The doors of the cells were open, and some of the prisoners werein the corridor. The assistant nodded slightly to the jailers,and cast a side glance at the prisoners, who, keeping close tothe wall, crept back to their cells, or stood like soldiers, withtheir arms at their sides, following the official with theireyes. After passing through one corridor, the assistant showedNekhludoff into another to the left, separated from the first byan iron door. This corridor was darker, and smelt even worse thanthe first. The corridor had doors on both sides, with littleholes in them about an inch in diameter. There was only an oldjailer, with an unpleasant face, in this corridor.

　　"Where is Menshoff?" asked the inspector's assistant.

　　"The eighth cell to the left."

　　"And these? Are they occupied?" asked Nekhludoff.

　　Yes, all but one."

　　CHAPTER LII.

　　NO. 21.

　　"May I look in?" asked Nekhludoff.

　　"Oh, certainly," answered the assistant, smiling, and turned tothe jailer with some question.

　　Nekhludoff looked into one of the little holes, and saw a tallyoung man pacing up and down the cell. When the man heard someone at the door he looked up with a frown, but continued walkingup and down.

　　Nekhludoff looked into another hole. His eye met another largeeye looking out of the hole at him, and he quickly stepped aside.In the third cell he saw a very small man asleep on the bed,covered, head and all, with his prison cloak. In the fourth abroad-faced man was sitting with his elbows on his knees and hishead low down. At the sound of footsteps this man raised his headand looked up. His face, especially his large eyes, bore theexpression of hopeless dejection. One could see that it did noteven interest him to know who was looking into his cell. Whoeverit might be, he evidently hoped for nothing good from him.Nekhludoff was seized with dread, and went to Menshoff's cell,No. 21, without stopping to look through any more holes. Thejailer unlocked the door and opened it. A young man, with longneck, well-developed muscles, a small head, and kind, round eyes,stood by the bed, hastily putting on his cloak, and looking atthe newcomers with a frightened face. Nekhludoff was speciallystruck by the kind, round eyes that were throwing frightened andinquiring glances in turns at him, at the jailer, and at theassistant, and back again.

　　"Here's a gentleman wants to inquire into your affair."

　　"Thank you kindly."

　　"Yes, I was told about you," Nekhludoff said, going through thecell up to the dirty grated window, "and I should like to hearall about it from yourself."

　　Menshoff also came up to the window, and at once started tellinghis story, at first looking shyly at the inspector's assistant,but growing gradually bolder. When the assistant left the celland went into the corridor to give some order the man grew quitebold. The story was told with the accent and in the manner commonto a most ordinary good peasant lad. To hear it told by aprisoner dressed in this degrading clothing, and inside a prison,seemed very strange to Nekhludoff. Nekhludoff listened, and atthe same time kept looking around him--at the low bedstead withits straw mattress, the window and the dirty, damp wall, and thepiteous face and form of this unfortunate, disfigured peasant inhis prison cloak and shoes, and he felt sadder and sadder, andwould have liked not to believe what this good-natured fellow wassaying. It seemed too dreadful to think that men could do such athing as to take a man, dress him in convict clothes, and put himin this horrible place without any reason only because he himselfhad been injured. And yet the thought that this seemingly truestory, told with such a good-natured expression on the face,might be an invention and a lie was still more dreadful. This wasthe story: The village public-house keeper had enticed the youngfellow's wife. He tried to get justice by all sorts of means. Buteverywhere the public-house keeper managed to bribe theofficials, and was acquitted. Once, he took his wife back byforce, but she ran away next day. Then he came to demand herback, but, though he saw her when he came in, the public-housekeeper told him she was not there, and ordered him to go away. Hewould not go, so the public-house keeper and his servant beat himso that they drew blood. The next day a fire broke out in thepublic-house, and the young man and his mother were accused ofhaving set the house on fire. He had not set it on fire, but wasvisiting a friend at the time.

　　"And it is true that you did not set it on fire?"

　　"It never entered my head to do it, sir. It must be my enemy thatdid it himself. They say he had only just insured it. Then theysaid it was mother and I that did it, and that we had threatenedhim. It is true I once did go for him, my heart couldn't stand itany longer."

　　"Can this be true?"

　　"God is my witness it is true. Oh, sir, be so good--" andNekhludoff had some difficulty to prevent him from bowing down tothe ground. "You see I am perishing without any reason." His facequivered and he turned up the sleeve of his cloak and began tocry, wiping the tears with the sleeve of his dirty shirt.

　　"Are you ready?" asked the assistant.

　　"Yes. Well, cheer up. We will consult a good lawyer, and will dowhat we can," said Nekhludoff, and went out. Menshoff stood closeto the door, so that the jailer knocked him in shutting it, andwhile the jailer was locking it he remained looking out throughthe little hole.

　　CHAPTER LIII.

　　VICTIMS OF GOVERNMENT.

　　Passing back along the broad corridor (it was dinner time, andthe cell doors were open), among the men dressed in their lightyellow cloaks, short, wide trousers, and prison shoes, who werelooking eagerly at him, Nekhludoff felt a strange mixture ofsympathy for them, and horror and perplexity at the conduct ofthose who put and kept them here, and, besides, he felt, he knewnot why, ashamed of himself calmly examining it all.

　　In one of the corridors, some one ran, clattering with his shoes,in at the door of a cell. Several men came out from here, andstood in Nekhludoff's way, bowing to him.

　　"Please, your honour (we don't know what to call you), get ouraffair settled somehow."

　　"I am not an official. I know nothing about it."

　　"Well, anyhow, you come from outside; tell somebody--one of theauthorities, if need be," said an indignant voice. "Show somepity on us, as a human being. Here we are suffering the secondmonth for nothing."

　　"What do you mean? Why?" said Nekhludoff.

　　"Why? We ourselves don't know why, but are sitting here thesecond month."

　　"Yes, it's quite true, and it is owing to an accident," said theinspector. "These people were taken up because they had nopassports, and ought to have been sent back to their nativegovernment; but the prison there is burnt, and the localauthorities have written, asking us not to send them on. So wehave sent all the other passportless people to their differentgovernments, but are keeping these."

　　"What! For no other reason than that?" Nekhludoff exclaimed,stopping at the door.

　　A crowd of about forty men, all dressed in prison clothes,surrounded him and the assistant, and several began talking atonce. The assistant stopped them.

　　"Let some one of you speak."

　　A tall, good-looking peasant, a stone-mason, of about fifty,stepped out from the rest. He told Nekhludoff that all of themhad been ordered back to their homes and were now being kept inprison because they had no passports, yet they had passportswhich were only a fortnight overdue. The same thing had happenedevery year; they had many times omitted to renew their passportstill they were overdue, and nobody had ever said anything; butthis year they had been taken up and were being kept in prisonthe second month, as if they were criminals.

　　"We are all masons, and belong to the same artel. We are toldthat the prison in our government is burnt, but this is not ourfault. Do help us."

　　Nekhludoff listened, but hardly understood what the good-lookingold man was saying, because his attention was riveted to a large,dark-grey, many-legged louse that was creeping along thegood-looking man's cheek.

　　"How's that? Is it possible for such a reason?" Nekhludoff said,turning to the assistant.

　　"Yes, they should have been sent off and taken back to theirhomes," calmly said the assistant, "but they seem to have beenforgotten or something."

　　Before the assistant had finished, a small, nervous man, also inprison dress, came out of the crowd, and, strangely contortinghis mouth, began to say that they were being ill-used fornothing.

　　"Worse than dogs," he began.

　　"Now, now; not too much of this. Hold your tongue, or you know--"

　　"What do I know?" screamed the little man, desperately. "What isour crime?"

　　"Silence!" shouted the assistant, and the little man was silent.

　　"But what is the meaning of all this?" Nekhludoff thought tohimself as he came out of the cell, while a hundred eyes werefixed upon him through the openings of the cell doors and fromthe prisoners that met him, making him feel as if he were runningthe gauntlet.

　　"Is it really possible that perfectly innocent people are kepthere?" Nekhludoff uttered when they left the corridor.

　　"What would you have us do? They lie so. To hear them talk theyare all of them innocent," said the inspector's assistant. "Butit does happen that some are really imprisoned for nothing."

　　"Well, these have done nothing."

　　"Yes, we must admit it. Still, the people are fearfully spoilt.There are such types--desperate fellows, with whom one has tolook sharp. To-day two of that sort had to be punished."

　　"Punished? How?"

　　"Flogged with a birch-rod, by order."

　　"But corporal punishment is abolished."

　　"Not for such as are deprived of their rights. They are stillliable to it."

　　Nekhludoff thought of what he had seen the day before whilewaiting in the hall, and now understood that the punishment wasthen being inflicted, and the mixed feeling of curiosity,depression, perplexity, and moral nausea, that grew into physicalsickness, took hold of him more strongly than ever before.

　　Without listening to the inspector's assistant, or looking round,he hurriedly left the corridor, and went to the office. Theinspector was in the office, occupied with other business, andhad forgotten to send for Doukhova. He only remembered hispromise to have her called when Nekhludoff entered the office.

　　"Sit down, please. I'll send for her at once," said theinspector.

　　CHAPTER LIV.

　　PRISONERS AND FRIENDS.

　　The office consisted of two rooms. The first room, with a large,dilapidated stove and two dirty windows, had a black measure formeasuring the prisoners in one corner, and in another corner hunga large image of Christ, as is usual in places where they torturepeople. In this room stood several jailers. In the next room satabout twenty persons, men and women in groups and in pairs,talking in low voices. There was a writing table by the window.

　　The inspector sat down by the table, and offered Nekhludoff achair beside him. Nekhludoff sat down, and looked at the peoplein the room.

　　The first who drew his attention was a young man with a pleasantface, dressed in a short jacket, standing in front of amiddle-aged woman with dark eyebrows, and he was eagerly tellingher something and gesticulating with his hands. Beside them satan old man, with blue spectacles, holding the hand of a youngwoman in prisoner's clothes, who was telling him something. Aschoolboy, with a fixed, frightened look on his face, was gazingat the old man. In one corner sat a pair of lovers. She was quiteyoung and pretty, and had short, fair hair, looked energetic, andwas elegantly dressed; he had fine features, wavy hair, and worea rubber jacket. They sat in their corner and seemed stupefiedwith love. Nearest to the table sat a grey-haired woman dressedin black, evidently the mother of a young, consumptive-lookingfellow, in the same kind of jacket. Her head lay on his shoulder.She was trying to say something, but the tears prevented her fromspeaking; she began several times, but had to stop. The young manheld a paper in his hand, and, apparently not knowing what to do,kept folding and pressing it with an angry look on his face.

　　Beside them was a short-haired, stout, rosy girl, with veryprominent eyes, dressed in a grey dress and a cape; she satbeside the weeping mother, tenderly stroking her. Everythingabout this girl was beautiful; her large, white hands, her short,wavy hair, her firm nose and lips, but the chief charm of herface lay in her kind, truthful hazel eyes. The beautiful eyesturned away from the mother for a moment when Nekhludoff came in,and met his look. But she turned back at once and said somethingto the mother.

　　Not far from the lovers a dark, dishevelled man, with a gloomyface, sat angrily talking to a beardless visitor, who looked asif he belonged to the Scoptsy sect.

　　At the very door stood a young man in a rubber jacket, who seemedmore concerned about the impression he produced on the onlookerthan about what he was saying. Nekhludoff, sitting by theinspector's side, looked round with strained curiosity. A littleboy with closely-cropped hair came up to him and addressed him ina thin little voice.

　　"And whom are you waiting for?"

　　Nekhludoff was surprised at the question, but looking at the boy,and seeing the serious little face with its bright, attentiveeyes fixed on him, answered him seriously that he was waiting fora woman of his acquaintance.

　　"Is she, then, your sister?" the boy asked.

　　"No, not my sister," Nekhludoff answered in surprise.

　　"And with whom are you here?" he inquired of the boy.

　　"I? With mamma; she is a political one," he replied.

　　"Mary Pavlovna, take Kolia!" said the inspector, evidentlyconsidering Nekhludoff's conversation with the boy illegal.

　　Mary Pavlovna, the beautiful girl who had attracted Nekhludoff'sattention, rose tall and erect, and with firm, almost manlysteps, approached Nekhludoff and the boy.

　　"What is he asking you? Who you are?" she inquired with a slightsmile, and looking straight into his face with a trustful look inher kind, prominent eyes, and as simply as if there could be nodoubt whatever that she was and must be on sisterly terms witheverybody.

　　"He likes to know everything," she said, looking at the boy withso sweet and kind a smile that both the boy and Nekhludoff wereobliged to smile back.

　　"He was asking me whom I have come to see."

　　"Mary Pavlovna, it is against the rules to speak to strangers.You know it is," said the inspector.

　　"All right, all right," she said, and went back to theconsumptive lad's mother, holding Kolia's little hand in herlarge, white one, while he continued gazing up into her face.

　　"Whose is this little boy?" Nekhludoff asked of the inspector.

　　"His mother is a political prisoner, and he was born in prison,"said the inspector, in a pleased tone, as if glad to point outhow exceptional his establishment was.

　　"Is it possible?"

　　"Yes, and now he is going to Siberia with her."

　　"And that young girl?"

　　"I cannot answer your question," said the inspector, shrugginghis shoulders. "Besides, here is Doukhova."

　　CHAPTER LV.

　　VERA DOUKHOVA EXPLAINS.

　　Through a door, at the back of the room, entered, with awriggling gait, the thin, yellow Vera Doukhova, with her large,kind eyes.

　　"Thanks for having come," she said, pressing Nekhludoff's hand."Do you remember me? Let us sit down."

　　"I did not expect to see you like this."

　　"Oh, I am very happy. It is so delightful, so delightful, that Idesire nothing better," said Vera Doukhova, with the usualexpression of fright in the large, kind, round eyes fixed onNekhludoff, and twisting the terribly thin, sinewy neck,surrounded by the shabby, crumpled, dirty collar of her bodice.Nekhludoff asked her how she came to be in prison.

　　In answer she began relating all about her affairs with greatanimation. Her speech was intermingled with a great many longwords, such as propaganda, disorganisation, social groups,sections and sub-sections, about which she seemed to thinkeverybody knew, but which Nekhludoff had never heard of.

　　She told him all the secrets of the Nardovolstvo, [literally,"People's Freedom," a revolutionary movement] evidentlyconvinced that he was pleased to hear them. Nekhludoff looked ather miserable little neck, her thin, unkempt hair, and wonderedwhy she had been doing all these strange things, and why she wasnow telling all this to him. He pitied her, but not as he hadpitied Menshoff, the peasant, kept for no fault of his own in thestinking prison. She was pitiable because of the confusion thatfilled her mind. It was clear that she considered herself aheroine, and was ready to give her life for a cause, though shecould hardly have explained what that cause was and in what itssuccess would lie.

　　The business that Vera Doukhova wanted to see Nekhludoff aboutwas the following: A friend of hers, who had not even belonged totheir "sub-group," as she expressed it, had been arrested withher about five months before, and imprisoned in thePetropavlovsky fortress because some prohibited books and papers(which she had been asked to keep) had been found in herpossession. Vera Doukhova felt herself in some measure to blamefor her friend's arrest, and implored Nekhludoff, who hadconnections among influential people, to do all he could in orderto set this friend free.

　　Besides this, Doukhova asked him to try and get permission foranother friend of hers, Gourkevitch (who was also imprisoned inthe Petropavlovsky fortress), to see his parents, and to procuresome scientific books which he required for his studies.Nekhludoff promised to do what he could when he went toPetersburg.

　　As to her own story, this is what she said: Having finished acourse of midwifery, she became connected with a group ofadherents to the Nardovolstvo, and made up her mind to agitate inthe revolutionary movement. At first all went on smoothly. Shewrote proclamations and occupied herself with propaganda work inthe factories; then, an important member having been arrested,their papers were seized and all concerned were arrested. "I wasalso arrested, and shall be exiled. But what does it matter? Ifeel perfectly happy." She concluded her story with a piteoussmile.

　　Nekhludoff made some inquiries concerning the girl with theprominent eyes. Vera Doukhova told him that this girl was thedaughter of a general, and had been long attached to therevolutionary party, and was arrested because she had pleadedguilty to having shot a gendarme. She lived in a house with someconspirators, where they had a secret printing press. One night,when the police came to search this house, the occupiers resolvedto defend themselves, put out the light, and began destroying thethings that might incriminate them. The police forced their wayin, and one of the conspirators fired, and mortally wounded agendarme. When an inquiry was instituted, this girl said that itwas she who had fired, although she had never had a revolver inher hands, and would not have hurt a fly. And she kept to it, andwas now condemned to penal servitude in Siberia.

　　"An altruistic, fine character," said Vera Doukhova, approvingly.

　　The third business that Vera Doukhova wanted to talk aboutconcerned Maslova. She knew, as everybody does know in prison,the story of Maslova's life and his connection with her, andadvised him to take steps to get her removed into the politicalprisoner's ward, or into the hospital to help to nurse the sick,of which there were very many at that time, so that extra nurseswere needed.

　　Nekhludoff thanked her for the advice, and said he would try toact upon it.

　　CHAPTER LVI.

　　NEKHLUDOFF AND THE PRISONERS.

　　Their conversation was interrupted by the inspector, who saidthat the time was up, and the prisoners and their friends mustpart. Nekhludoff took leave of Vera Doukhova and went to thedoor, where he stopped to watch what was going on.

　　The inspector's order called forth only heightened animationamong the prisoners in the room, but no one seemed to think ofgoing. Some rose and continued to talk standing, some went ontalking without rising. A few began crying and taking leave ofeach other. The mother and her consumptive son seemed especiallypathetic. The young fellow kept twisting his bit of paper and hisface seemed angry, so great were his efforts not to be infectedby his mother's emotion. The mother, hearing that it was time topart, put her head on his shoulder and sobbed and sniffed aloud.

　　The girl with the prominent eyes--Nekhludoff could not helpwatching her--was standing opposite the sobbing mother, and wassaying something to her in a soothing tone. The old man with theblue spectacles stood holding his daughter's hand and nodding inanswer to what she said. The young lovers rose, and, holding eachother's hands, looked silently into one another's eyes.

　　"These are the only two who are merry," said a young man with ashort coat who stood by Nekhludoff's side, also looking at thosewho were about to part, and pointed to the lovers. FeelingNekhludoff's and the young man's eyes fixed on them, the lovers--the young man with the rubber coat and the pretty girl--stretchedout their arms, and with their hands clasped in each other's,danced round and round again. "To-night they are going to bemarried here in prison, and she will follow him to Siberia," saidthe young man.

　　"What is he?"

　　"A convict, condemned to penal servitude. Let those two at leasthave a little joy, or else it is too painful," the young manadded, listening to the sobs of the consumptive lad's mother.

　　"Now, my good people! Please, please do not oblige me to haverecourse to severe measures," the inspector said, repeating thesame words several times over. "Do, please," he went on in aweak, hesitating manner. "It is high time. What do you mean byit? This sort of thing is quite impossible. I am now asking youfor the last time," he repeated wearily, now putting out hiscigarette and then lighting another.

　　It was evident that, artful, old, and common as were the devicesenabling men to do evil to others without feeling responsible forit, the inspector could not but feel conscious that he was one ofthose who were guilty of causing the sorrow which manifesteditself in this room. And it was apparent that this troubled himsorely. At length the prisoners and their visitors began togo--the first out of the inner, the latter out of the outer door.The man with the rubber jacket passed out among them, and theconsumptive youth and the dishevelled man. Mary Pavlovna went outwith the boy born in prison.

　　The visitors went out too. The old man with the blue spectacles,stepping heavily, went out, followed by Nekhludoff.

　　"Yes, a strange state of things this," said the talkative youngman, as if continuing an interrupted conversation, as hedescended the stairs side by side with Nekhludoff. "Yet we havereason to be grateful to the inspector who does not keep strictlyto the rules, kind-hearted fellow. If they can get a talk it doesrelieve their hearts a bit, after all!"

　　While talking to the young man, who introduced himself asMedinzeff, Nekhludoff reached the hall. There the inspector cameup to them with weary step.

　　"If you wish to see Maslova," he said, apparently desiring to bepolite to Nekhludoff, "please come to-morrow."

　　"Very well," answered Nekhludoff, and hurried away, experiencingmore than ever that sensation of moral nausea which he alwaysfelt on entering the prison.

　　The sufferings of the evidently innocent Menshoff seemedterrible, and not so much his physical suffering as theperplexity, the distrust in the good and in God which he mustfeel, seeing the cruelty of the people who tormented him withoutany reason.

　　Terrible were the disgrace and sufferings cast on these hundredsof guiltless people simply because something was not written onpaper as it should have been. Terrible were the brutalisedjailers, whose occupation is to torment their brothers, and whowere certain that they were fulfilling an important and usefulduty; but most terrible of all seemed this sickly, elderly,kind-hearted inspector, who was obliged to part mother and son,father and daughter, who were just the same sort of people as heand his own children.

　　"What is it all for?" Nekhludoff asked himself, and could notfind an answer.

　　CHAPTER LVII.

　　THE VICE-GOVERNOR'S "AT-HOME".

　　The next day Nekhludoff went to see the advocate, and spoke tohim about the Menshoffs' case, begging him to undertake theirdefence. The advocate promised to look into the case, and if itturned out to be as Nekhludoff said he would in all probabilityundertake the defence free of charge. Then Nekhludoff told him ofthe 130 men who were kept in prison owing to a mistake. "On whomdid it depend? Whose fault was it?"

　　The advocate was silent for a moment, evidently anxious to give acorrect reply.

　　"Whose fault is it? No one's," he said, decidedly. "Ask theProcureur, he'll say it is the Governor's; ask the Governor,he'll say it is the Procureur's fault. No one is in fault."

　　"I am just going to see the Vice-Governor. I shall tell him."

　　"Oh, that's quite useless," said the advocate, with a smile. "Heis such a--he is not a relation or friend of yours?--such ablockhead, if I may say so, and yet a crafty animal at the sametime."

　　Nekhludoff remembered what Maslennikoff had said about theadvocate, and did not answer, but took leave and went on toMaslennikoff's. He had to ask Maslennikoff two things: aboutMaslova's removal to the prison hospital, and about the 130passportless men innocently imprisoned. Though it was very hardto petition a man whom he did not respect, and by whose ordersmen were flogged, yet it was the only means of gaining his end,and he had to go through with it.

　　As he drove up to Maslennikoff's house Nekhludoff saw a number ofdifferent carriages by the front door, and remembered that it wasMaslennikoff's wife's "at-home" day, to which he had beeninvited. At the moment Nekhludoff drove up there was a carriagein front of the door, and a footman in livery, with a cockade inhis hat, was helping a lady down the doorstep. She was holding upher train, and showing her thin ankles, black stockings, andslippered feet. Among the carriages was a closed landau, which heknew to be the Korchagins'.

　　The grey-haired, red-checked coachman took off his hat and bowedin a respectful yet friendly manner to Nekhludoff, as to agentleman he knew well. Nekhludoff had not had time to inquirefor Maslennikoff, when the latter appeared on the carpetedstairs, accompanying a very important guest not only to the firstlanding but to the bottom of the stairs. This very importantvisitor, a military man, was speaking in French about a lotteryfor the benefit of children's homes that were to be founded inthe city, and expressed the opinion that this was a goodoccupation for the ladies. "It amuses them, and the money comes."

　　"Qu'elles s'amusent et que le bon dieu les benisse. M.Nekhludoff! How d'you do? How is it one never sees you?" hegreeted Nekhludoff. "Allez presenter vos devoirs a Madame. Andthe Korchagins are here et Nadine Bukshevden. Toutes les joliesfemmes de la ville," said the important guest, slightly raisinghis uniformed shoulders as he presented them to his own richlyliveried servant to have his military overcoat put on. "Aurevoir, mon cher." And he pressed Maslennikoff's hand.

　　"Now, come up; I am so glad," said Maslennikoff, graspingNekhludoff's hand. In spite of his corpulency Maslennikoffhurried quickly up the stairs. He was in particularly goodspirits, owing to the attention paid him by the importantpersonage. Every such attention gave him the same sense ofdelight as is felt by an affectionate dog when its master patsit, strokes it, or scratches its ears. It wags its tail, cringes,jumps about, presses its ears down, and madly rushes about in acircle. Maslennikoff was ready to do the same. He did not noticethe serious expression on Nekhludoff's face, paid no heed to hiswords, but pulled him irresistibly towards the drawing-room, sothat it was impossible for Nekhludoff not to follow. "Businessafter wards. I shall do whatever you want," said Meslennikoff, ashe drew Nekhludoff through the dancing hall. "Announce PrinceNekhludoff," he said to a footman, without stopping on his way.The footman started off at a trot and passed them.

　　"Vous n'avez qu' a ordonner. But you must see my wife. As it is,I got it for letting you go without seeing her last time."

　　By the time they reached the drawing-room the footman had alreadyannounced Nekhludoff, and from between the bonnets and heads thatsurrounded it the smiling face of Anna Ignatievna, theVice-Governor's wife, beamed on Nekhludoff. At the other end ofthe drawing-room several ladies were seated round the tea-table,and some military men and some civilians stood near them. Theclatter of male and female voices went on unceasingly.

　　"Enfin! you seem to have quite forgotten us. How have weoffended?" With these words, intended to convey an idea ofintimacy which had never existed between herself and Nekhludoff,Anna Ignatievna greeted the newcomer.

　　"You are acquainted?--Madam Tilyaevsky, M. Chernoff. Sit down abit nearer. Missy vene donc a notre table on vous apportera votrethe . . . And you," she said, having evidently forgotten hisname, to an officer who was talking to Missy, "do come here. Acup of tea, Prince?"

　　"I shall never, never agree with you. It's quite simple; she didnot love," a woman's voice was heard saying.

　　"But she loved tarts."

　　"Oh, your eternal silly jokes!" put in, laughingly, another ladyresplendent in silks, gold, and jewels.

　　"C'est excellent these little biscuits, and so light. I thinkI'll take another."

　　"Well, are you moving soon?"

　　"Yes, this is our last day. That's why we have come. Yes, it mustbe lovely in the country; we are having a delightful spring."

　　Missy, with her hat on, in a dark-striped dress of some kind thatfitted her like a skin, was looking very handsome. She blushedwhen she saw Nekhludoff.

　　"And I thought you had left," she said to him.

　　"I am on the point of leaving. Business is keeping me in town,and it is on business I have come here."

　　"Won't you come to see mamma? She would like to see you," shesaid, and knowing that she was saying what was not true, and thathe knew it also, she blushed still more.

　　"I fear I shall scarcely have time," Nekhludoff said gloomily,trying to appear as if he had not noticed her blush. Missyfrowned angrily, shrugged her shoulders, and turned towards anelegant officer, who grasped the empty cup she was holding, andknocking his sword against the chairs, manfully carried the cupacross to another table.

　　"You must contribute towards the Home fund."

　　"I am not refusing, but only wish to keep my bounty fresh for thelottery. There I shall let it appear in all its glory."

　　"Well, look out for yourself," said a voice, followed by anevidently feigned laugh.

　　Anna Ignatievna was in raptures; her "at-home" had turned out abrilliant success. "Micky tells me you are busying yourself withprison work. I can understand you so well," she said toNekhludoff. "Micky (she meant her fat husband, Maslennikoff) mayhave other defects, but you know how kind-hearted he is. Allthese miserable prisoners are his children. He does not regardthem in any other light. II est d'une bonte---" and she stopped,finding no words to do justice to this bonte of his, and quicklyturned to a shrivelled old woman with bows of lilac ribbon allover, who came in just then.

　　Having said as much as was absolutely necessary, and with aslittle meaning as conventionality required, Nekhludoff rose andwent up to Meslennikoff. "Can you give me a few minutes' hearing,please?"

　　"Oh, yes. Well, what is it?"

　　"Let us come in here."

　　They entered a small Japanese sitting-room, and sat down by thewindow.

　　CHAPTER LVIII.

　　THE VICE-GOVERNOR SUSPICIOUS.

　　"Well? Je suis a vous. Will you smoke? But wait a bit; we must becareful and not make a mess here," said Maslennikoff, and broughtan ashpan. "Well?"

　　"There are two matters I wish to ask you about."

　　"Dear me!"

　　An expression of gloom and dejection came over Maslennikoff'scountenance, and every trace of the excitement, like that of thedog's whom its master has scratched behind the cars, vanishedcompletely. The sound of voices reached them from the drawing-room. A woman's voice was heard, saying, "Jamais je ne croirais,"and a man's voice from the other side relating something in whichthe names of la Comtesse Voronzoff and Victor Apraksine keptrecurring. A hum of voices, mixed with laughter, came fromanother side. Maslennikoff tried to listen to what was going onin the drawing-room and to what Nekhludoff was saying at the sametime.

　　"I am again come about that same woman," said Nekhludoff."

　　"Oh, yes; I know. The one innocently condemned."

　　"I would like to ask that she should be appointed to serve in theprison hospital. I have been told that this could be arranged."

　　Maslennikoff compressed his lips and meditated. "That will bescarcely possible," he said. "However, I shall see what can bedone, and shall wire you an answer tomorrow."

　　"I have been told that there were many sick, and help wasneeded."

　　"All right, all right. I shall let you know in any case."

　　"Please do," said Nekhludoff.

　　The sound of a general and even a natural laugh came from thedrawing-room.

　　"That's all that Victor. He is wonderfully sharp when he is inthe right vein," said Maslennikoff.

　　"The next thing I wanted to tell you," said Nekhludoff, "is that130 persons are imprisoned only because their passports areoverdue. They have been kept here a month."

　　And he related the circumstances of the case.

　　"How have you come to know of this?" said Maslennikoff, lookinguneasy and dissatisfied.

　　"I went to see a prisoner, and these men came and surrounded mein the corridor, and asked . . ."

　　"What prisoner did you go to see?"

　　"A peasant who is kept in prison, though innocent. I have put hiscase into the hands of a lawyer. But that is not the point."

　　"Is it possible that people who have done no wrong are imprisonedonly because their passports are overdue? And . . ."

　　"That's the Procureur's business," Maslennikoff interrupted,angrily. "There, now, you see what it is you call a prompt andjust form of trial. It is the business of the Public Prosecutorto visit the prison and to find out if the prisoners are keptthere lawfully. But that set play cards; that's all they do."

　　"Am I to understand that you can do nothing?" Nekhludoff said,despondently, remembering that the advocate had foretold that theGovernor would put the blame on the Procureur.

　　"Oh, yes, I can. I shall see about it at once."

　　"So much the worse for her. C'est un souffre douleur," came thevoice of a woman, evidently indifferent to what she was saying,from the drawing-room.

　　"So much the better. I shall take it also," a man's voice washeard to say from the other side, followed by the playfullaughter of a woman, who was apparently trying to prevent the manfrom taking something away from her.

　　"No, no; not on any account," the woman's voice said.

　　"All right, then. I shall do all this," Maslennikoff repeated,and put out the cigarette he held in his white, turquoise-ringedhand. "And now let us join the ladies."

　　"Wait a moment," Nekhludoff said, stopping at the door of thedrawing-room. "I was told that some men had received corporalpunishment in the prison yesterday. Is this true?"

　　Maslennikoff blushed.

　　"Oh, that's what you are after? No, mon cher, decidedly it won'tdo to let you in there; you want to get at everything. Come,come; Anna is calling us," he said, catching Nekhludoff by thearm, and again becoming as excited as after the attention paidhim by the important person, only now his excitement was notjoyful, but anxious.

　　Nekhludoff pulled his arm away, and without taking leave of anyone and without saying a word, he passed through the drawing-roomwith a dejected look, went down into the hall, past the footman,who sprang towards him, and out at the street door.

　　"What is the matter with him? What have you done to him?" askedAnna of her husband.

　　"This is a la Francaise," remarked some one.

　　"A la Francaise, indeed--it is a la Zoulou."

　　"Oh, but he's always been like that."

　　Some one rose, some one came in, and the clatter went on itscourse. The company used this episode with Nekhludoff as aconvenient topic of conversation for the rest of the "at-home."

　　On the day following his visit to Maslennikoff, Nekhludoffreceived a letter from him, written in a fine, firm hand, onthick, glazed paper, with a coat-of-arms, and sealed withsealing-wax. Maslennikoff said that he had written to the doctorconcerning Maslova's removal to the hospital, and hopedNekhludoff's wish would receive attention. The letter was signed,"Your affectionate elder comrade," and the signature ended with alarge, firm, and artistic flourish. "Fool!" Nekhludoff could notrefrain from saying, especially because in the word "comrade" hefelt Maslennikoff's condescension towards him, i.e., whileMaslennikoff was filling this position, morally most dirty andshameful, he still thought himself a very important man, andwished, if not exactly to flatter Nekhludoff, at least to showthat he was not too proud to call him comrade.

　　CHAPTER LIX.

　　NEKHLUDOFF'S THIRD INTERVIEW WITH MASLOVA IN PRISON.

　　One of the most widespread superstitions is that every man hashis own special, definite qualities; that a man is kind, cruel,wise, stupid, energetic, apathetic, etc. Men are not like that.We may say of a man that he is more often kind than cruel,oftener wise than stupid, oftener energetic than apathetic, orthe reverse; but it would be false to say of one man that he iskind and wise, of another that he is wicked and foolish. And yetwe always classify mankind in this way. And this is untrue. Menare like rivers: the water is the same in each, and alike in all;but every river is narrow here, is more rapid there, here slower,there broader, now clear, now cold, now dull, now warm. It is thesame with men. Every man carries in himself the germs of everyhuman quality, and sometimes one manifests itself, sometimesanother, and the man often becomes unlike himself, while stillremaining the same man, In some people these changes are veryrapid, and Nekhludoff was such a man. These changes in him weredue to physical and to spiritual causes. At this time heexperienced such a change.

　　That feeling of triumph and joy at the renewal of life which hehad experienced after the trial and after the first interviewwith Katusha, vanished completely, and after the last interviewfear and revulsion took the place of that joy. He was determinednot to leave her, and not to change his decision of marrying her,if she wished it; but it seemed very hard, and made him suffer.

　　On the day after his visit to Maslennikoff, he again went to theprison to see her.

　　The inspector allowed him to speak to her, only not in theadvocate's room nor in the office, but in the women'svisiting-room. In spite of his kindness, the inspector was morereserved with Nekhludoff than hitherto.

　　An order for greater caution had apparently been sent, as aresult of his conversation with Meslennikoff.

　　"You may see her," the inspector said; "but please remember whatI said as regards money. And as to her removal to the hospital,that his excellency wrote to me about, it can be done; the doctorwould agree. Only she herself does not wish it. She says, 'Muchneed have I to carry out the slops for the scurvy beggars.' Youdon't know what these people are, Prince," he added.

　　Nekhludoff did not reply, but asked to have the interview. Theinspector called a jailer, whom Nekhludoff followed into thewomen's visiting-room, where there was no one but Maslovawaiting. She came from behind the grating, quiet and timid, closeup to him, and said, without looking at him:

　　"Forgive me, Dmitri Ivanovitch, I spoke hastily the day beforeyesterday."

　　"It is not for me to forgive you," Nekhludoff began.

　　"But all the same, you must leave me," she interrupted, and inthe terribly squinting eyes with which she looked at himNekhludoff read the former strained, angry expression.

　　"Why should I leave you?"

　　"So."

　　"But why so?"

　　She again looked up, as it seemed to him, with the same angrylook.

　　"Well, then, thus it is," she said. "You must leave me. It istrue what I am saying. I cannot. You just give it up altogether."Her lips trembled and she was silent for a moment. "It is true.I'd rather hang myself."

　　Nekhludoff felt that in this refusal there was hatred andunforgiving resentment, but there was also something besides,something good. This confirmation of the refusal in cold blood atonce quenched all the doubts in Nekhludoff's bosom, and broughtback the serious, triumphant emotion he had felt in relation toKatusha.

　　"Katusha, what I have said I will again repeat," he uttered, veryseriously. "I ask you to marry me. If you do not wish it, and foras long as you do not wish it, I shall only continue to followyou, and shall go where you are taken."

　　"That is your business. I shall not say anything more," sheanswered, and her lips began to tremble again.

　　He, too, was silent, feeling unable to speak.

　　"I shall now go to the country, and then to Petersburg," he said,when he was quieter again. "I shall do my utmost to get your---our case, I mean, reconsidered, and by the help of God thesentence may be revoked."

　　"And if it is not revoked, never mind. I have deserved it, if notin this case, in other ways," she said, and he saw how difficultit was for her to keep down her tears.

　　"Well, have you seen Menshoff?" she suddenly asked, to hide heremotion. "It's true they are innocent, isn't it?"

　　"Yes, I think so."

　　"Such a splendid old woman," she said.

　　There was another pause.

　　"Well, and as to the hospital?" she suddenly said, and looking athim with her squinting eyes. "If you like, I will go, and I shallnot drink any spirits, either."

　　Nekhludoff looked into her eyes. They were smiling.

　　"Yes, yes, she is quite a different being," Nekhludoff thought.After all his former doubts, he now felt something he had neverbefore experienced--the certainty that love is invincible.

　　When Maslova returned to her noisome cell after this interview,she took off her cloak and sat down in her place on the shelfbedstead with her hands folded on her lap. In the cell were onlythe consumptive woman, the Vladimir woman with her baby,Menshoff's old mother, and the watchman's wife. The deacon'sdaughter had the day before been declared mentally diseased andremoved to the hospital. The rest of the women were away, washingclothes. The old woman was asleep, the cell door stood open, andthe watchman's children were in the corridor outside. TheVladimir woman, with her baby in her arms, and the watchman'swife, with the stocking she was knitting with deft fingers, cameup to Maslova. "Well, have you had a chat?" they asked. Maslovasat silent on the high bedstead, swinging her legs, which did notreach to the floor.

　　"What's the good of snivelling?" said the watchman's wife. "Thechief thing's not to go down into the dumps. Eh, Katusha? Now,then!" and she went on, quickly moving her fingers.

　　Maslova did not answer.

　　"And our women have all gone to wash," said the Vladimir woman."I heard them say much has been given in alms to-day. Quite a lothas been brought."

　　"Finashka," called out the watchman's wife, "where's the littleimp gone to?"

　　She took a knitting needle, stuck it through both the ball andthe stocking, and went out into the corridor.

　　At this moment the sound of women's voices was heard from thecorridor, and the inmates of the cell entered, with their prisonshoes, but no stockings on their feet. Each was carrying a roll,some even two. Theodosia came at once up to Maslova.

　　"What's the matter; is anything wrong?" Theodosia asked, lookinglovingly at Maslova with her clear, blue eyes. "This is for ourtea," and she put the rolls on a shelf.

　　"Why, surely he has not changed his mind about marrying?" askedKorableva.

　　"No, he has not, but I don't wish to," said Maslova, "and so Itold him."

　　"More fool you!" muttered Korableva in her deep tones.

　　"If one's not to live together, what's the use of marrying?" saidTheodosia.

　　"There's your husband--he's going with you," said the watchman'swife.

　　"Well, of course, we're married," said Theodosia. "But why shouldhe go through the ceremony if he is not to live with her?"

　　"Why, indeed! Don't be a fool! You know if he marries her she'llroll in wealth," said Korableva.

　　"He says, 'Wherever they take you, I'll follow,'" said Maslova."If he does, it's well; if he does not, well also. I am not goingto ask him to. Now he is going to try and arrange the matter inPetersburg. He is related to all the Ministers there. But, allthe same, I have no need of him," she continued.

　　"Of course not," suddenly agreed Korableva, evidently thinkingabout something else as she sat examining her bag. "Well, shallwe have a drop?"

　　"You have some," replied Maslova. "I won't."

　　END OF BOOK I.

　　BOOK II.

　　CHAPTER I.

　　PROPERTY IN LAND.

　　It was possible for Maslova's case to come before the Senate in afortnight, at which time Nekhludoff meant to go to Petersburg,and, if need be, to appeal to the Emperor (as the advocate whohad drawn up the petition advised) should the appeal bedisregarded (and, according to the advocate, it was best to beprepared for that, since the causes for appeal were so slight).The party of convicts, among whom was Maslova, would very likelyleave in the beginning of June. In order to be able to follow herto Siberia, as Nekhludoff was firmly resolved to do, he was nowobliged to visit his estates, and settle matters there.Nekhludoff first went to the nearest, Kousminski, a large estatethat lay in the black earth district, and from which he derivedthe greatest part of his income.

　　He had lived on that estate in his childhood and youth, and hadbeen there twice since, and once, at his mother's request, he hadtaken a German steward there, and had with him verified theaccounts. The state of things there and the peasants' relationsto the management, i.e., the landlord, had therefore been longknown to him. The relations of the peasants to the administrationwere those of utter dependence on that management. Nekhludoffknew all this when still a university student, he had confessedand preached Henry Georgeism, and, on the basis of that teaching,had given the land inherited from his father to the peasants. Itis true that after entering the army, when he got into the habitof spending 20,000 roubles a year, those former occupationsceased to be regarded as a duty, and were forgotten, and he notonly left off asking himself where the money his mother allowedhim came from, but even avoided thinking about it. But hismother's death, the coming into the property, and the necessityof managing it, again raised the question as to what his positionin reference to private property in land was. A month beforeNekhludoff would have answered that he had not the strength toalter the existing order of things; that it was not he who wasadministering the estate; and would one way or another have easedhis conscience, continuing to live far from his estates, andhaving the money sent him. But now he decided that he could notleave things to go on as they were, but would have to alter themin a way unprofitable to himself, even though he had all thesecomplicated and difficult relations with the prison world whichmade money necessary, as well as a probable journey to Siberiabefore him. Therefore he decided not to farm the land, but to letit to the peasants at a low rent, to enable them to cultivate itwithout depending on a landlord. More than once, when comparingthe position of a landowner with that of an owner of serfs,Nekhludoff had compared the renting of land to the peasantsinstead of cultivating it with hired labour, to the old system bywhich serf proprietors used to exact a money payment from theirserfs in place of labour. It was not a solution of the problem,and yet a step towards the solution; it was a movement towards aless rude form of slavery. And it was in this way he meant toact.

　　Nekhludoff reached Kousminski about noon. Trying to simplify hislife in every way, he did not telegraph, but hired a cart andpair at the station. The driver was a young fellow in a nankeencoat, with a belt below his long waist. He was glad to talk tothe gentleman, especially because while they were talking hisbroken-winded white horse and the emaciated spavined one could goat a foot-pace, which they always liked to do.

　　The driver spoke about the steward at Kousminski without knowingthat he was driving "the master." Nekhludoff had purposely nottold him who he was.

　　"That ostentatious German," said the driver (who had been to townand read novels) as he sat sideways on the box, passing his handfrom the top to the bottom of his long whip, and trying to showoff his accomplishments--"that ostentatious German has procuredthree light bays, and when he drives out with his lady---oh, my!At Christmas he had a Christmas-tree in the big house. I drovesome of the visitors there. It had 'lectric lights; you couldnot see the like of it in the whole of the government. What's itto him, he has cribbed a heap of money. I heard say he has boughtan estate."

　　Nekhludoff had imagined that he was quite indifferent to the waythe steward managed his estate, and what advantages the stewardderived from it. The words of the long-waisted driver, however,were not pleasant to hear.

　　A dark cloud now and then covered the sun; the larks were soaringabove the fields of winter corn; the forests were already coveredwith fresh young green; the meadows speckled with grazing cattleand horses. The fields were being ploughed, and Nekhludoffenjoyed the lovely day. But every now and then he had anunpleasant feeling, and, when he asked himself what it was causedby, he remembered what the driver had told him about the way theGerman was managing Kousminski. When he got to his estate and setto work this unpleasant feeling vanished.

　　Looking over the books in the office, and a talk with theforeman, who naively pointed out the advantages to be derivedfrom the facts that the peasants had very little land of theirown and that it lay in the midst of the landlord's fields, madeNekhludoff more than ever determined to leave off farming and tolet his land to the peasants.

　　From the office books and his talk with the foreman, Nekhludofffound that two-thirds of the best of the cultivated land wasstill being tilled with improved machinery by labourers receivingfixed wages, while the other third was tilled by the peasants atthe rate of five roubles per desiatin [about two andthree-quarter acres]. So that the peasants had to plough eachdesiatin three times, harrow it three times, sow and mow thecorn, make it into sheaves, and deliver it on the threshingground for five roubles, while the same amount of work done bywage labour came to at least 10 roubles. Everything the peasantsgot from the office they paid for in labour at a very high price.They paid in labour for the use of the meadows, for wood, forpotato-stalks, and were nearly all of them in debt to the office.Thus, for the land that lay beyond the cultivated fields, whichthe peasants hired, four times the price that its value wouldbring in if invested at five per cent was taken from thepeasants.

　　Nekhludoff had known all this before, but he now saw it in a newlight, and wondered how he and others in his position could helpseeing how abnormal such conditions are. The steward's argumentsthat if the land were let to the peasants the agriculturalimplements would fetch next to nothing, as it would be impossibleto get even a quarter of their value for them, and that thepeasants would spoil the land, and how great a loser Nekhludoffwould be, only strengthened Nekhludoff in the opinion that he wasdoing a good action in letting the land to the peasants and thusdepriving himself of a large part of his income. He decided tosettle this business now, at once, while he was there. Thereaping and selling of the corn he left for the steward to managein due season, and also the selling of the agriculturalimplements and useless buildings. But he asked his steward tocall the peasants of the three neighbouring villages that lay inthe midst of his estate (Kousminski) to a meeting, at which hewould tell them of his intentions and arrange about the price atwhich they were to rent the land.

　　With the pleasant sense of the firmness he had shown in the faceof the steward's arguments, and his readiness to make asacrifice, Nekhludoff left the office, thinking over the businessbefore him, and strolled round the house, through the neglectedflower-garden--this year the flowers were planted in front of thesteward's house--over the tennis ground, now overgrown withdandelions, and along the lime-tree walk, where he used to smokehis cigar, and where he had flirted with the pretty Kirimova, hismother's visitor. Having briefly prepared in his mind the speechhe was going to make to the peasants, he again went in to thesteward, and, after tea, having once more arranged his thoughts,he went into the room prepared for him in the big house, whichused to be a spare bedroom.

　　In this clean little room, with pictures of Venice on the walls,and a mirror between the two windows, there stood a clean bedwith a spring mattress, and by the side of it a small table, witha decanter of water, matches, and an extinguisher. On a table bythe looking-glass lay his open portmanteau, with hisdressing-case and some books in it; a Russian book, TheInvestigation of the Laws of Criminality, and a German and anEnglish book on the same subject, which he meant to read whiletravelling in the country. But it was too late to begin to-day,and he began preparing to go to bed.

　　An old-fashioned inlaid mahogany arm-chair stood in the corner ofthe room, and this chair, which Nekhludoff remembered standing inhis mother's bedroom, suddenly raised a perfectly unexpectedsensation in his soul. He was suddenly filled with regret at thethought of the house that would tumble to ruin, and the gardenthat would run wild, and the forest that would be cut down, andall these farmyards, stables, sheds, machines, horses, cows whichhe knew had cost so much effort, though not to himself, toacquire and to keep. It had seemed easy to give up all this, butnow it was hard, not only to give this, but even to let the landand lose half his income. And at once a consideration, whichproved that it was unreasonable to let the land to the peasants,and thus to destroy his property, came to his service. "I mustnot hold property in land. If I possess no property in land, Icannot keep up the house and farm. And, besides, I am going toSiberia, and shall not need either the house or the estate," saidone voice. "All this is so," said another voice, "but you are notgoing to spend all your life in Siberia. You may marry, and havechildren, and must hand the estate on to them in as good acondition as you received it. There is a duty to the land, too.To give up, to destroy everything is very easy; to acquire itvery difficult. Above all, you must consider your future life,and what you will do with yourself, and you must dispose of yourproperty accordingly. And are you really firm in your resolve?And then, are you really acting according to your conscience, orare you acting in order to be admired of men?" Nekhludoff askedhimself all this, and had to acknowledge that he was influencedby the thought of what people would say about him. And the morehe thought about it the more questions arose, and the moreunsolvable they seemed.

　　In hopes of ridding himself of these thoughts by failing asleep,and solving them in the morning when his head would be fresh, helay down on his clean bed. But it was long before he could sleep.Together with the fresh air and the moonlight, the croaking ofthe frogs entered the room, mingling with the trills of a coupleof nightingales in the park and one close to the window in a bushof lilacs in bloom. Listening to the nightingales and the frogs,Nekhludoff remembered the inspector's daughter, and her music,and the inspector; that reminded him of Maslova, and how her lipstrembled, like the croaking of the frogs, when she said, "Youmust just leave it." Then the German steward began going down tothe frogs, and had to be held back, but he not only went down butturned into Maslova, who began reproaching Nekhludoff, saying,"You are a prince, and I am a convict." "No, I must not give in,"thought Nekhludoff, waking up, and again asking himself, "Is whatI am doing right? I do not know, and no matter, no matter, I mustonly fall asleep now." And he began himself to descend where hehad seen the inspector and Maslova climbing down to, and there itall ended.

　　CHAPTER II.

　　EFFORTS AT LAND RESTORATION.

　　The next day Nekhludoff awoke at nine o'clock. The young officeclerk who attended on "the master" brought him his boots, shiningas they had never shone before, and some cold, beautifully clearspring water, and informed him that the peasants were alreadyassembling.

　　Nekhludoff jumped out of bed, and collected his thoughts. Not atrace of yesterday's regret at giving up and thus destroying hisproperty remained now. He remembered this feeling of regret withsurprise; he was now looking forward with joy to the task beforehim, and could not help being proud of it. He could see from thewindow the old tennis ground, overgrown with dandelions, on whichthe peasants were beginning to assemble. The frogs had notcroaked in vain the night before; the day was dull. There was nowind; a soft warm rain had begun falling in the morning, and hungin drops on leaves, twigs, and grass. Besides the smell of thefresh vegetation, the smell of damp earth, asking for more rain,entered in at the window. While dressing, Nekhludoff severaltimes looked out at the peasants gathered on the tennis ground.One by one they came, took off their hats or caps to one another,and took their places in a circle, leaning on their sticks. Thesteward, a stout, muscular, strong young man, dressed in a shortpea-jacket, with a green stand-up collar, and enormous buttons,came to say that all had assembled, but that they might waituntil Nekhludoff had finished his breakfast--tea and coffee,whichever he pleased; both were ready.

　　"No, I think I had better go and see them at once," saidNekhludoff, with an unexpected feeling of shyness and shame atthe thought of the conversation he was going to have with thepeasants. He was going to fulfil a wish of the peasants, thefulfilment of which they did not even dare to hope for--to letthe land to them at a low price, i.e., to confer a great boon;and yet he felt ashamed of something. When Nekhludoff came up tothe peasants, and the fair, the curly, the bald, the grey headswere bared before him, he felt so confused that he could saynothing. The rain continued to come down in small drops, thatremained on the hair, the beards, and the fluff of the men'srough coats. The peasants looked at "the master," waiting for himto speak, and he was so abashed that he could not speak. Thisconfused silence was broken by the sedate, self-assured Germansteward, who considered himself a good judge of the Russianpeasant, and who spoke Russian remarkably well. This strong,over-fed man, and Nekhludoff himself, presented a strikingcontrast to the peasants, with their thin, wrinkled faces and theshoulder blades protruding beneath their coarse coats.

　　"Here's the Prince wanting to do you a favor, and to let the landto you; only you are not worthy of it," said the steward.

　　"How are we not worthy of it, Vasili Karlovitch? Don't we workfor you? We were well satisfied with the deceased lady--God havemercy on her soul--and the young Prince will not desert us now.Our thanks to him," said a redhaired, talkative peasant.

　　"Yes, that's why I have called you together. I should like to letyou have all the land, if you wish it."

　　The peasants said nothing, as if they did not understand or didnot believe it.

　　"Let's see. Let us have the land? What do you mean?" asked amiddle-aged man.

　　"To let it to you, that you might have the use of it, at a lowrent."

　　"A very agreeable thing," said an old man.

　　"If only the pay is such as we can afford," said another.

　　"There's no reason why we should not rent the land."

　　"We are accustomed to live by tilling the ground."

　　"And it's quieter for you, too, that way. You'll have to donothing but receive the rent. Only think of all the sin and worrynow!" several voices were heard saying.

　　"The sin is all on your side," the German remarked. "If only youdid your work, and were orderly."

　　"That's impossible for the likes of us," said a sharp-nosed oldman. "You say, 'Why do you let the horse get into the corn?' justas if I let it in. Why, I was swinging my scythe, or something ofthe kind, the livelong day, till the day seemed as long as ayear, and so I fell asleep while watching the herd of horses atnight, and it got into your oats, and now you're skinning me."

　　"And you should keep order."

　　"It's easy for you to talk about order, but it's more than ourstrength will bear," answered a tall, dark, hairy middleaged man.

　　"Didn't I tell you to put up a fence?"

　　"You give us the wood to make it of," said a short, plain-looking peasant. "I was going to put up a fence last year, andyou put me to feed vermin in prison for three months. That wasthe end of that fence."

　　"What is it he is saying?" asked Nekhludoff, turning to thesteward.

　　"Der ersto Dieb im Dorfe, [The greatest thief in the village]answered the steward in German. "He is caught stealing wood fromthe forest every year." Then turning to the peasant, he added,"You must learn to respect other people's property."

　　"Why, don't we respect you?" said an old man. "We are obliged torespect you. Why, you could twist us into a rope; we are in yourhands."

　　"Eh, my friend, it's impossible to do you. It's you who are everready to do us," said the steward.

　　"Do you, indeed. Didn't you smash my jaw for me, and I gotnothing for it? No good going to law with the rich, it seems."

　　"You should keep to the law."

　　A tournament of words was apparently going on without those whotook part in it knowing exactly what it was all about; but it wasnoticeable that there was bitterness on one side, restricted byfear, and on the other a consciousness of importance and power.It was very trying to Nekhludoff to listen to all this, so hereturned to the question. of arranging the amount and the termsof the rent.

　　"Well, then, how about the land? Do you wish to take it, and whatprice will you pay if I let you have the whole of it?"

　　"The property is yours: it is for you to fix the price."Nekhludoff named the price. Though it was far below that paid inthe neighbourhood, the peasants declared it too high, and beganbargaining, as is customary among them. Nekhludoff thought hisoffer would be accepted with pleasure, but no signs of pleasurewere visible.

　　One thing only showed Nekhludoff that his offer was a profitableone to the peasants. The question as to who would rent the land,the whole commune or a special society, was put, and a violentdispute arose among those peasants who were in favour ofexcluding the weak and those not likely to pay the rentregularly, and the peasants who would have to be excluded on thatscore. At last, thanks to the steward, the amount and the termsof the rent were fixed, and the peasants went down the hilltowards their villages, talking noisily, while Nekhludoff and thesteward went into the office to make up the agreement. Everythingwas settled in the way Nekhludoff wished and expected it to be.The peasants had their land 30 per cent. cheaper than they couldhave got it anywhere in the district, the revenue from the landwas diminished by half, but was more than sufficient forNekhludoff, especially as there would be money coming in for aforest he sold, as well as for the agricultural implements, whichwould be sold, too. Everything seemed excellently arranged, yethe felt ashamed of something. He could see that the peasants,though they spoke words of thanks, were not satisfied, and hadexpected something greater. So it turned out that he had deprivedhimself of a great deal, and yet not done what the peasants hadexpected.

　　The next day the agreement was signed, and accompanied by severalold peasants, who had been chosen as deputies, Nekhludoff wentout, got into the steward's elegant equipage (as the driver fromthe station had called it), said "good-bye" to the peasants, whostood shaking their heads in a dissatisfied and disappointedmanner, and drove off to the station. Nekhludoff was dissatisfiedwith himself without knowing why, but all the time he felt sadand ashamed of something.

　　CHAPTER III.

　　OLD ASSOCIATIONS.

　　From Kousminski Nekhludoff went to the estate he had inheritedfrom his aunts, the same where he first met Katusha. He meant toarrange about the land there in the way he had done inKousminski. Besides this, he wished to find out all he couldabout Katusha and her baby, and when and how it had died. He gotto Panovo early one morning, and the first thing that struck himwhen he drove up was the look of decay and dilapidation that allthe buildings bore, especially the house itself. The iron roofs,which had once been painted green, looked red with rust, and afew sheets of iron were bent back, probably by a storm. Some ofthe planks which covered the house from outside were torn away inseveral places; these were easier to get by breaking the rustynails that held them. Both porches, but especially the side porchhe remembered so well, were rotten and broken; only the banisterremained. Some of the windows were boarded up, and the buildingin which the foreman lived, the kitchen, the stables--all weregrey and decaying. Only the garden had not decayed, but hadgrown, and was in full bloom; from over the fence the cherry,apple, and plum trees looked like white clouds. The lilac bushesthat formed the hedge were in full bloom, as they had been when,14 years ago, Nekhludoff had played gorelki with the 15-year-oldKatusha, and had fallen and got his hand stung by the nettlesbehind one of those lilac bushes. The larch that his aunt Sophiahad planted near the house, which then was only a short stick,had grown into a tree, the trunk of which would have made a beam,and its branches were covered with soft yellow green needles aswith down. The river, now within its banks, rushed noisily overthe mill dam. The meadow the other side of the river was dottedover by the peasants' mixed herds. The foreman, a student, whohad left the seminary without finishing the course, metNekhludoff in the yard, with a smile on his face, and, stillsmiling, asked him to come into the office, and, as if promisingsomething exceptionally good by this smile, he went behind apartition. For a moment some whispering was heard behind thepartition. The isvostchik who had driven Nekhludoff from thestation, drove away after receiving a tip, and all was silent.Then a barefooted girl passed the window; she had on anembroidered peasant blouse, and long earrings in her ears; then aman walked past, clattering with his nailed boots on the troddenpath.

　　Nekhludoff sat down by the little casement, and looked out intothe garden and listened. A soft, fresh spring breeze, smelling ofnewly-dug earth, streamed in through the window, playing with thehair on his damp forehead and the papers that lay on thewindow-sill, which was all cut about with a knife.

　　"Tra-pa-trop, tra-pa-trop," comes a sound from the river, as thewomen who were washing clothes there slapped them in regularmeasure with their wooden bats, and the sound spread over theglittering surface of the mill pond while the rhythmical sound ofthe falling water came from the mill, and a frightened flysuddenly flew loudly buzzing past his ear.

　　And all at once Nekhludoff remembered how, long ago, when he wasyoung and innocent, he had heard the women's wooden bats slappingthe wet clothes above the rhythmical sound from the mill, and inthe same way the spring breeze had blown about the hair on hiswet forehead and the papers on the window-sill, which was all cutabout with a knife, and just in the same way a fly had buzzedloudly past his car.

　　It was not exactly that he remembered himself as a lad of 15, buthe seemed to feel himself the same as he was then, with the samefreshness and purity, and full of the same grand possibilitiesfor the future, and at the same time, as it happens in a dream,he knew that all this could be no more, and he felt terribly sad."At what time would you like something to eat?" asked theforeman, with a smile.

　　"When you like; I am not hungry. I shall go for a walk throughthe village."

　　"Would you not like to come into the house? Everything is inorder there. Have the goodness to look in. If the outside---"

　　"Not now; later on. Tell me, please, have you got a woman herecalled Matrona Kharina?" (This was Katusha's aunt, the villagemidwife.)

　　"Oh, yes; in the village she keeps a secret pot-house. I know shedoes, and I accuse her of it and scold her; but as to taking herup, it would be a pity. An old woman, you know; she hasgrandchildren," said the foreman, continuing to smile in the samemanner, partly wishing to be pleasant to the master, and partlybecause he was convinced that Nekhludoff understood all thesematters just as well as he did himself.

　　"Where does she live? I shall go across and see her."

　　"At the end of the village; the further side, the third from theend. To the left there is a brick cottage, and her hut is beyondthat. But I'd better see you there," the foreman said with agraceful smile.

　　"No, thanks, I shall find it; and you be so good as to call ameeting of the peasants, and tell them that I want to speak tothem about the land," said Nekhludoff, with the intention ofcoming to the same agreement with the peasants here as he haddone in Kousminski, and, if possible, that same evening.

　　CHAPTER IV.

　　THE PEASANTS' LOT.

　　When Nekhludoff came out of the gate he met the girl with thelong earrings on the well-trodden path that lay across thepasture ground, overgrown with dock and plantain leaves. She hada long, brightly-coloured apron on, and was quickly swinging herleft arm in front of herself as she stepped briskly with her fat,bare feet. With her right arm she was pressing a fowl to herstomach. The fowl, with red comb shaking, seemed perfectly calm;he only rolled up his eyes and stretched out and drew in oneblack leg, clawing the girl's apron. When the girl came nearer to"the master," she began moving more slowly, and her run changedinto a walk. When she came up to him she stopped, and, after abackward jerk with her head, bowed to him; and only when he hadpassed did she recommence to run homeward with the cock. As hewent down towards the well, he met an old woman, who had a coarsedirty blouse on, carrying two pails full of water, that hung on ayoke across her bent back. The old woman carefully put down thepails and bowed, with the same backward jerk of her head.

　　After passing the well Nekhludoff entered the village. It was abright, hot day, and oppressive, though only ten o'clock. Atintervals the sun was hidden by the gathering clouds. Anunpleasant, sharp smell of manure filled the air in the street.It came from carts going up the hillside, but chiefly from thedisturbed manure heaps in the yards of the huts, by the opengates of which Nekhludoff had to pass. The peasants, barefooted,their shirts and trousers soiled with manure, turned to look atthe tall, stout gentleman with the glossy silk ribbon on his greyhat who was walking up the village street, touching the groundevery other step with a shiny, bright-knobbed walking-stick. Thepeasants returning from the fields at a trot and jotting in theirempty carts, took off their hats, and, in their surprise,followed with their eyes the extraordinary man who was walking uptheir street. The women came out of the gates or stood in theporches of their huts, pointing him out to each other and gazingat him as he passed.

　　When Nekhludoff was passing the fourth gate, he was stopped by acart that was coming out, its wheels creaking, loaded high withmanure, which was pressed down, and was covered with a mat to siton. A six-year-old boy, excited by the prospect of a drive,followed the cart. A young peasant, with shoes plaited out ofbark on his feet, led the horse out of the yard. A long-leggedcolt jumped out of the gate; but, seeing Nekhludoff, pressedclose to the cart, and scraping its legs against the wheels,jumped forward, past its excited, gently-neighing mother, as shewas dragging the heavy load through the gateway. The next horsewas led out by a barefooted old man, with protrudingshoulder-blades, in a dirty shirt and striped trousers.

　　When the horses got out on to the hard road, strewn over withbits of dry, grey manure, the old man returned to the gate, andbowed to Nekhludoff.

　　"You are our ladies' nephew, aren't you?

　　"Yes, I am their nephew."

　　"You've kindly come to look us up, eh?" said the garrulous oldman.

　　"Yes, I have. Well, how are you getting on?

　　"How do we get on? We get on very badly," the old man drawled, asif it gave him pleasure.

　　"Why so badly?" Nekhludoff asked, stepping inside the gate.

　　"What is our life but the very worst life?" said the old man,following Nekhludoff into that part of the yard which was roofedover.

　　Nekhludoff stopped under the roof.

　　"I have got 12 of them there," continued the old man, pointing totwo women on the remainder of the manure heap, who stoodperspiring with forks in their hands, the kerchiefs tumbling offtheir heads, with their skirts tucked up, showing the calves oftheir dirty, bare legs. "Not a month passes but I have to buy sixpoods [a pood is 36 English pounds] of corn, and where's the money tocome from?"

　　"Have you not got enough corn of your own?

　　"My own?" repeated the old man, with a smile of contempt; "why Ihave only got land for three, and last year we had not enough tolast till Christmas."

　　"What do you do then?"

　　"What do we do? Why, I hire out as a labourer; and then Iborrowed some money from your honour. We spent it all beforeLent, and the tax is not paid yet."

　　"And how much is the tax?"

　　"Why, it's 17 roubles for my household. Oh, Lord, such a life!One hardly knows one's self how one manages to live it."

　　"May I go into your hut?" asked Nekhludoff, stepping across theyard over the yellow-brown layers of manure that had been rakedup by the forks, and were giving off a strong smell.

　　"Why not? Come in," said the old man, and stepping quickly withhis bare feet over the manure, the liquid oozing between histoes, he passed Nekhludoff and opened the door of the hut.

　　The women arranged the kerchiefs on their heads and let downtheir skirts, and stood looking with surprise at the cleangentleman with gold studs to his sleeves who was entering theirhouse. Two little girls, with nothing on but coarse chemises,rushed out of the hut. Nekhludoff took off his hat, and, stoopingto get through the low door, entered, through a passage into thedirty, narrow hut, that smelt of sour food, and where much spacewas taken up by two weaving looms. In the but an old woman wasstanding by the stove, with the sleeves rolled up over her thin,sinewy brown arms.

　　"Here is our master come to see us," said the old man.

　　"I'm sure he's very welcome," said the old woman, kindly.

　　"I would like to see how you live."

　　"Well, you see how we live. The hut is coming down, and mightkill one any day; but my old man he says it's good enough, and sowe live like kings," said the brisk old woman, nervously jerkingher head. "I'm getting the dinner; going to feed the workers."

　　"And what are you going to have for dinner?"

　　"Our food is very good. First course, bread and kvas; [kvas is akind of sour, non-intoxicant beer made of rye] second course,kvas and bread," said the old woman, showing her teeth, whichwere half worn away.

　　"No," seriously; "let me see what you are going to eat."

　　"To eat?" said the old man, laughing. "Ours is not a very cunningmeal. You just show him, wife."

　　"Want to see our peasant food? Well, you are an inquisitivegentleman, now I come to look at you. He wants to knoweverything. Did I not tell you bread and kvas and then we'll havesoup. A woman brought us some fish, and that's what the soup ismade of, and after that, potatoes."

　　"Nothing more?

　　"What more do you want? We'll also have a little milk," said theold woman, looking towards the door. The door stood open, and thepassage outside was full of people--boys, girls, women withbabies--thronged together to look at the strange gentleman whowanted to see the peasants' food. The old woman seemed to prideherself on the way she behaved with a gentleman.

　　"Yes, it's a miserable life, ours; that goes without saying,sir," said the old man. "What are you doing there?" he shouted tothose in the passage. "Well, good-bye," said Nekhludoff, feelingashamed and uneasy, though unable to account for the feeling.

　　"Thank you kindly for having looked us up," said the old man.

　　The people in the passage pressed closer together to letNekhludoff pass, and he went out and continued his way up thestreet.

　　Two barefooted boys followed him out of the passage the elder ina shirt that had once been white, the other in a worn and fadedpink one. Nekhludoff looked back at them.

　　"And where are you going now?" asked the boy with the whiteshirt. Nekhludoff answered: "To Matrona Kharina. Do you knowher?" The boy with the pink shirt began laughing at something;but the elder asked, seriously:

　　"What Matrona is that? Is she old?"

　　"Yes, she is old."

　　"Oh--oh," he drawled; "that one; she's at the other end of thevillage; we'll show you. Yes, Fedka, we'll go with him. Shallwe?"

　　"Yes, but the horses?"

　　"They'll be all right, I dare say."

　　Fedka agreed, and all three went up the street.

　　CHAPTER V.

　　MASLOVA'S AUNT.

　　Nekhludoff felt more at case with the boys than with the grown-uppeople, and he began talking to them as they went along. Thelittle one with the pink shirt stopped laughing, and spoke assensibly and as exactly as the elder one.

　　"Can you tell me who are the poorest people you have got here?"asked Nekhludoff.

　　"The poorest? Michael is poor, Simon Makhroff, and Martha, she isvery poor."

　　"And Anisia, she is still poorer; she's not even got a cow. Theygo begging," said little Fedka.

　　"She's not got a cow, but they are only three persons, andMartha's family are five," objected the elder boy.

　　"But the other's a widow," the pink boy said, standing up forAnisia.

　　"You say Anisia is a widow, and Martha is no better than awidow," said the elder boy; "she's also no husband."

　　"And where is her husband?" Nekhludoff asked.

　　"Feeding vermin in prison," said the elder boy, using thisexpression, common among the peasants.

　　"A year ago he cut down two birch trees in the land-lord'sforest," the little pink boy hurried to say, "so he was lockedup; now he's sitting the sixth month there, and the wife goesbegging. There are three children and a sick grandmother," hewent on with his detailed account.

　　"And where does she live?" Nekhludoff asked.

　　"In this very house," answered the boy, pointing to a hut, infront of which, on the footpath along which Nekhludoff waswalking, a tiny, flaxen-headed infant stood balancing himselfwith difficulty on his rickety legs.

　　"Vaska! Where's the little scamp got to?" shouted a woman, with adirty grey blouse, and a frightened look, as she ran out of thehouse, and, rushing forward, seized the baby before Nekhludoffcame up to it, and carried it in, just as if she were afraid thatNekhludoff would hurt her child.

　　This was the woman whose husband was imprisoned for Nekhludoff'sbirch trees.

　　"Well, and this Matrona, is she also poor?" Nekhludoff asked, asthey came up to Matrona's house.

　　"She poor? No. Why, she sells spirits," the thin, pink little boyanswered decidedly.

　　When they reached the house Nekhludoff left the boys outside andwent through the passage into the hut. The hut was 14 feet long.The bed that stood behind the big stove was not long enough for atall person to stretch out on. "And on this very bed," Nekhludoffthought, "Katusha bore her baby and lay ill afterwards." Thegreater part of the hut was taken up by a loom, on which the oldwoman and her eldest granddaughter were arranging the warp whenNekhludoff came in, striking his forehead against the lowdoorway. Two other grandchildren came rushing in afterNekhludoff, and stopped, holding on to the lintels of the door.

　　"Whom do you want?" asked the old woman, crossly. She was in abad temper because she could not manage to get the warp right,and, besides, carrying on an illicit trade in spirits, she wasalways afraid when any stranger came in.

　　"I am--the owner of the neighbouring estates, and should like tospeak to you."

　　"Dear me; why, it's you, my honey; and I, fool, thought it wasjust some passer-by. Dear me, you--it's you, my precious," saidthe old woman, with simulated tenderness in her voice.

　　"I should like to speak to you alone," said Nekhludoff, with aglance towards the door, where the children were standing, andbehind them a woman holding a wasted, pale baby, with a sicklysmile on its face, who had a little cap made of different bits ofstuff on its head.

　　"What are you staring at? I'll give it you. Just hand me mycrutch," the old woman shouted to those at the door.

　　"Shut the door, will you!" The children went away, and the womanclosed the door.

　　"And I was thinking, who's that? And it's 'the master' himself.My jewel, my treasure. Just think," said the old woman, "where hehas deigned to come. Sit down here, your honour," she said,wiping the seat with her apron. "And I was thinking what devil isit coming in, and it's your honour, ' the master' himself, thegood gentleman, our benefactor. Forgive me, old fool that I am;I'm getting blind."

　　Nekhludoff sat down, and the old woman stood in front of him,leaning her cheek on her right hand, while the left held up thesharp elbow of her right arm.

　　"Dear me, you have grown old, your honour; and you used to be asfresh as a daisy. And now! Cares also, I expect?"

　　"This is what I have come about: Do you remember KatushaMaslova?"

　　"Katerina? I should think so. Why, she is my niece. How could Ihelp remembering; and the tears I have shed because of her. Why,I know all about it. Eh, sir, who has not sinned before God? whohas not offended against the Tsar? We know what youth is. Youused to be drinking tea and coffee, so the devil got hold of you.He is strong at times. What's to be done? Now, if you had chuckedher; but no, just see how you rewarded her, gave her a hundredroubles. And she? What has she done? Had she but listened to meshe might have lived all right. I must say the truth, though sheis my niece: that girl's no good. What a good place I found her!She would not submit, but abused her master. Is it for the likesof us to scold gentlefolk? Well, she was sent away. And then atthe forester's. She might have lived there; but no, she wouldnot."

　　"I want to know about the child. She was confined at your house,was she not? Where's the child?"

　　"As to the child, I considered that well at the time. She was sobad I never thought she would get up again. Well, so I christenedthe baby quite properly, and we sent it to the Foundlings'. Whyshould one let an innocent soul languish when the mother isdying? Others do like this. they just leave the baby, don't feedit, and it wastes away. But, thinks I, no; I'd rather take sometrouble, and send it to the Foundlings'. There was money enough,so I sent it off."

　　"Did you not get its registration number from the Foundlings'Hospital?"

　　"Yes, there was a number, but the baby died," she said. "It diedas soon as she brought it there."

　　"Who is she?"

　　"That same woman who used to live in Skorodno. She made abusiness of it. Her name was Malania. She's dead now. She was awise woman. What do you think she used to do? They'd bring her ababy, and she'd keep it and feed it; and she'd feed it until shehad enough of them to take to the Foundlings'. When she had threeor four, she'd take them all at once. She had such a cleverarrangement, a sort of big cradle--a double one she could putthem in one way or the other. It had a handle. So she'd put fourof them in, feet to feet and the heads apart, so that they shouldnot knock against each other. And so she took four at once. She'dput some pap in a rag into their mouths to keep 'em silent, thepets."

　　"Well, go on."

　　"Well, she took Katerina's baby in the same way, after keeping ita fortnight, I believe. It was in her house it began to sicken."

　　"And was it a fine baby?" Nekhludoff asked.

　　"Such a baby, that if you wanted a finer you could not find one.Your very image," the old woman added, with a wink.

　　"Why did it sicken? Was the food bad?"

　　"Eh, what food? Only just a pretence of food. Naturally, whenit's not one's own child. Only enough to get it there alive. Shesaid she just managed to get it to Moscow, and there it died. Shebrought a certificate--all in order. She was such a wise woman."

　　That was all Nekhludoff could find out concerning his child.

　　CHAPTER VI.

　　REFLECTIONS OF A LANDLORD.

　　Again striking his head against both doors, Nekhludoff went outinto the street, where the pink and the white boys were waitingfor him. A few newcomers were standing with them. Among thewomen, of whom several had babies in their arms, was the thinwoman with the baby who had the patchwork cap on its head. Sheheld lightly in her arms the bloodless infant, who kept strangelysmiling all over its wizened little face, and continually movingits crooked thumbs.

　　Nekhludoff knew the smile to be one of suffering. He asked whothe woman was.

　　"It is that very Anisia I told you about," said the elder boy.

　　Nekhludoff turned to Anisia.

　　"How do you live?" he asked. "By what means do you gain yourlivelihood?"

　　"How do I live? I go begging," said Anisia, and began to cry.

　　Nekhludoff took out his pocket-book, and gave the woman a10-rouble note. He had not had time to take two steps beforeanother woman with a baby caught him up, then an old woman, thenanother young one. All of them spoke of their poverty, and askedfor help. Nekhludoff gave them the 60 roubles--all in smallnotes--which he had with him, and, terribly sad at heart, turnedhome, i.e., to the foreman's house.

　　The foreman met Nekhludoff with a smile, and informed him thatthe peasants would come to the meeting in the evening. Nekhludoffthanked him, and went straight into the garden to stroll alongthe paths strewn over with the petals of apple-blossom andovergrown with weeds, and to think over all he had seen.

　　At first all was quiet, but soon Nekhludoff heard from behind theforeman's house two angry women's voices interrupting each other,and now and then the voice of the ever-smiling foreman.Nekhludoff listened.

　　"My strength's at an end. What are you about, dragging the verycross [those baptized in the Russo-Greek Church always wear across round their necks] off my neck," said an angry woman'svoice.

　　"But she only got in for a moment," said another voice. "Give ither back, I tell you. Why do you torment the beast, and thechildren, too, who want their milk?"

　　"Pay, then, or work it off," said the foreman's voice.

　　Nekhludoff left the garden and entered the porch, near whichstood two dishevelled women--one of them pregnant and evidentlynear her time. On one of the steps of the porch, with his handsin the pockets of his holland coat, stood the foreman. When theysaw the master, the women were silent, and began arranging thekerchiefs on their heads, and the foreman took his hands out ofhis pockets and began to smile.

　　This is what had happened. From the foreman's words, it seemedthat the peasants were in the habit of letting their calves andeven their cows into the meadow belonging to the estate. Two cowsbelonging to the families of these two women were found in themeadow, and driven into the yard. The foreman demanded from thewomen 30 copecks for each cow or two days' work. The women,however, maintained that the cows had got into the meadow oftheir own accord; that they had no money, and asked that thecows, which had stood in the blazing sun since morning withoutfood, piteously lowing, should he returned to them, even if ithad to be on the understanding that the price should be workedoff later on.

　　"How often have I not begged of you," said the smiling foreman,looking back at Nekhludoff as if calling upon him to be awitness, "if you drive your cattle home at noon, that you shouldhave an eye on them?"

　　"I only ran to my little one for a bit, and they got away."

　　"Don't run away when you have undertaken to watch the cows."

　　"And who's to feed the little one? You'd not give him the breast,I suppose?" said the other woman. "Now, if they had reallydamaged the meadow, one would not take it so much to heart; butthey only strayed in a moment."

　　"All the meadows are damaged," the foreman said, turning toNekhludoff. "If I exact no penalty there will be no hay."

　　"There, now, don't go sinning like that; my cows have never beencaught there before," shouted the pregnant woman."

　　"Now that one has been caught, pay up or work it off."

　　"All right, I'll work it off; only let me have the cow now, don'ttorture her with hunger," she cried, angrily. "As it is, I haveno rest day or night. Mother-in-law is ill, husband taken todrink; I'm all alone to do all the work, and my strength's at anend. I wish you'd choke, you and your working it off."

　　Nekhludoff asked the foreman to let the women take the cows, andwent back into the garden to go on thinking out his problem, butthere was nothing more to think about.

　　Everything seemed so clear to him now that he could not stopwondering how it was that everybody did not see it, and that hehimself had for such a long while not seen what was so clearlyevident. The people were dying out, and had got used to thedying-out process, and had formed habits of life adapted to thisprocess: there was the great mortality among the children, theover-working of the women, the under-feeding, especially of theaged. And so gradually had the people come to this condition thatthey did not realise the full horrors of it, and did notcomplain. Therefore, we consider their condition natural and asit should be. Now it seemed as clear as daylight that the chiefcause of the people's great want was one that they themselvesknew and always pointed out, i.e., that the land which alonecould feed them had been taken from them by the landlords.

　　And how evident it was that the children and the aged diedbecause they had no milk, and they had no milk because there wasno pasture land, and no land to grow corn or make hay on. It wasquite evident that all the misery of the people or, at least byfar the greater part of it, was caused by the fact that the landwhich should feed them was not in their hands, but in the handsof those who, profiting by their rights to the land, live by thework of these people. The land so much needed by men was tilledby these people, who were on the verge of starvation, so that thecorn might be sold abroad and the owners of the land might buythemselves hats and canes, and carriages and bronzes, etc. Heunderstood this as clearly as he understood that horses when theyhave eaten all the grass in the inclosure where they are keptwill have to grow thin and starve unless they are put where theycan get food off other land.

　　This was terrible, and must not go on. Means must be found toalter it, or at least not to take part in it. "And I will findthem," he thought, as he walked up and down the path under thebirch trees.

　　In scientific circles, Government institutions, and in the paperswe talk about the causes of the poverty among the people and themeans of ameliorating their condition; but we do not talk of theonly sure means which would certainly lighten their condition,i.e., giving back to them the land they need so much.

　　Henry George's fundamental position recurred vividly to his mindand how he had once been carried away by it, and he was surprisedthat he could have forgotten it. The earth cannot be any one'sproperty; it cannot be bought or sold any more than water, air,or sunshine. All have an equal right to the advantages it givesto men. And now he knew why he had felt ashamed to remember thetransaction at Kousminski. He had been deceiving himself. He knewthat no man could have a right to own land, yet he had acceptedthis right as his, and had given the peasants something which, inthe depth of his heart, he knew he had no right to. Now he wouldnot act in this way, and would alter the arrangement inKousminski also. And he formed a project in his mind to let theland to the peasants, and to acknowledge the rent they paid forit to be their property, to be kept to pay the taxes and forcommunal uses. This was, of course, not the single-tax system,still it was as near an approach to it as could be had underexisting circumstances. His chief consideration, however, wasthat in this way he would no longer profit by the possession oflanded property.

　　When he returned to the house the foreman, with a speciallypleasant smile, asked him if he would not have his dinner now,expressing the fear that the feast his wife was preparing, withthe help of the girl with the earrings, might be overdone.

　　The table was covered with a coarse, unbleached cloth and anembroidered towel was laid on it in lieu of a napkin. Avieux-saxe soup tureen with a broken handle stood on the table,full of potato soup, the stock made of the fowl that had put outand drawn in his black leg, and was now cut, or rather chopped,in pieces, which were here and there covered with hairs. Afterthe soup more of the same fowl with the hairs was served roasted,and then curd pasties, very greasy, and with a great deal ofsugar. Little appetising as all this was, Nekhludoff hardlynoticed what he was eating; he was occupied with the thoughtwhich had in a moment dispersed the sadness with which he hadreturned from the village.

　　The foreman's wife kept looking in at the door, whilst thefrightened maid with the earrings brought in the dishes; and theforeman smiled more and more joyfully, priding himself on hiswife's culinary skill. After dinner, Nekhludoff succeeded, withsome trouble, in making the foreman sit down. In order to revisehis own thoughts, and to express them to some one, he explainedhis project of letting the land to the peasants, and asked theforeman for his opinion. The foreman, smiling as if he hadthought all this himself long ago, and was very pleased to hearit, did not really understand it at all. This was not becauseNekhludoff did not express himself clearly, but because accordingto this project it turned out that Nekhludoff was giving up hisown profit for the profit of others, and the thought that everyone is only concerned about his own profit, to the harm ofothers, was so deeply rooted in the foreman's conceptions that heimagined he did not understand something when Nekhludoff saidthat all the income from the land must be placed to form thecommunal capital of the peasants.

　　"Oh, I see; then you, of course, will receive the percentagesfrom that capital," said the foreman, brightening up.

　　"Dear me! no. Don't you see, I am giving up the land altogether."

　　"But then you will not get any income," said the foreman, smilingno longer.

　　"Yes, I am going to give it up."

　　The foreman sighed heavily, and then began smiling again. Now heunderstood. He understood that Nekhludoff was not quite normal,and at once began to consider how he himself could profit byNekhludoff's project of giving up the land, and tried to see thisproject in such a way that he might reap some advantage from it.But when he saw that this was impossible he grew sorrowful, andthe project ceased to interest him, and he continued to smileonly in order to please the master.

　　Seeing that the foreman did not understand him, Nekhludoff lethim go and sat down by the window-sill, that was all cut aboutand inked over, and began to put his project down on paper.

　　The sun went down behind the limes, that were covered with freshgreen, and the mosquitoes swarmed in, stinging Nekhludoff. Justas he finished his notes, he heard the lowing of cattle and thecreaking of opening gates from the village, and the voices of thepeasants gathering together for the meeting. He told the foremannot to call the peasants up to the office, as he meant to go intothe village himself and meet the men where they would assemble.Having hurriedly drank a cup of tea offered him by the foreman,Nekhludoff went to the village.

　　CHAPTER VII.

　　THE DISINHERITED.

　　From the crowd assembled in front of the house of the villageelder came the sound of voices; but as soon as Nekhludoff came upthe talking ceased, and all the peasants took off their caps,just as those in Kousminski had done. The peasants here were of amuch poorer class than those in Kousminski. The men wore shoesmade of bark and homespun shirts and coats. Some had comestraight from their work in their shirts and with bare feet.

　　Nekhludoff made an effort, and began his speech by telling thepeasants of his intention to give up his land to them altogether.The peasants were silent, and the expression on their faces didnot undergo any change.

　　"Because I hold," said Nekhludoff, "and believe that every onehas a right to the use of the land."

　　"That's certain. That's so, exactly," said several voices.

　　Nekhludoff went on to say that the revenue from the land ought tobe divided among all, and that he would therefore suggest thatthey should rent the land at a price fixed by themselves, therent to form a communal fund for their own use. Words of approvaland agreement were still to be heard, but the serious faces ofthe peasants grew still more serious, and the eyes that had beenfixed on the gentleman dropped, as if they were unwilling to puthim to shame by letting him see that every one had understood histrick, and that no one would be deceived by him.

　　Nekhludoff spoke clearly, and the peasants were intelligent, butthey did not and could not understand him, for the same reasonthat the foreman had so long been unable to understand him.

　　They were fully convinced that it is natural for every man toconsider his own interest. The experience of many generations hadproved to them that the landlords always considered their owninterest to the detriment of the peasants. Therefore, if alandlord called them to a meeting and made them some kind of anew offer, it could evidently only be in order to swindle themmore cunningly than before.

　　"Well, then, what are you willing to rent the land at? askedNekhludoff.

　　"How can we fix a price? We cannot do it. The land is yours, andthe power is in your hands," answered some voices from among thecrowd.

　　"Oh, not at all. You will yourselves have the use of the moneyfor communal purposes."

　　"We cannot do it; the commune is one thing, and this is another."

　　"Don't you understand?" said the foreman, with a smile (he hadfollowed Nekhludoff to the meeting), "the Prince is letting theland to you for money, and is giving you the money back to form acapital for the commune."

　　"We understand very well," said a cross, toothless old man,without raising his eyes. "Something like a bank; we should haveto pay at a fixed time. We do not wish it; it is hard enough asit is, and that would ruin us completely."

　　"That's no go. We prefer to go on the old way," began severaldissatisfied, and even rude, voices.

　　The refusals grew very vehement when Nekhludoff mentioned that hewould draw up an agreement which would have to be signed by himand by them.

　　"Why sign? We shall go on working as we have done hitherto. Whatis all this for? We are ignorant men."

　　"We can't agree, because this sort of thing is not what we havebeen used to. As it was, so let it continue to be. Only the seedswe should like to withdraw."

　　This meant that under the present arrangement the seeds had to beprovided by the peasants, and they wanted the landlord to providethem.

　　"Then am I to understand that you refuse to accept the land?"Nekhludoff asked, addressing a middle-aged, barefooted peasant,with a tattered coat, and a bright look on his face, who washolding his worn cap with his left hand, in a peculiarly straightposition, in the same way soldiers hold theirs when commanded totake them off.

　　"Just so," said this peasant, who had evidently not yet ridhimself of the military hypnotism he had been subjected to whileserving his time.

　　"It means that you have sufficient land," said Nekhludoff.

　　"No, sir, we have not," said the ex-soldier, with an artificiallypleased look, carefully holding his tattered cap in front of him,as if offering it to any one who liked to make use of it.

　　"Well, anyhow, you'd better think over what I have said."Nekhludoff spoke with surprise, and again repeated his offer.

　　"We have no need to think about it; as we have said, so it willbe," angrily muttered the morose, toothless old man.

　　"I shall remain here another day, and if you change your minds,send to let me know."

　　The peasants gave no answer.

　　So Nekhludoff did not succeed in arriving at any result from thisinterview.

　　"If I might make a remark, Prince," said the foreman, when theygot home, "you will never come to any agreement with them; theyare so obstinate. At a meeting these people just stick in oneplace, and there is no moving them. It is because they arefrightened of everything. Why, these very peasants--say thatwhite-haired one, or the dark one, who were refusing, areintelligent peasants. When one of them comes to the office andone makes him sit down to cup of tea it's like in the Palace ofWisdom--he is quite diplomatist," said the foreman, smiling; "hewill consider everything rightly. At a meeting it's a differentman--he keeps repeating one and the same . . ."

　　"Well, could not some of the more intelligent men he asked tocome here?" said Nekhludoff. "I would carefully explain it tothem."

　　"That can he done," said the smiling foreman.

　　"Well, then, would you mind calling them here to-morrow?"

　　"Oh, certainly I will," said the foreman, and smiled still morejoyfully. "I shall call them to-morrow."

　　"Just hear him; he's not artful, not he," said a blackhairedpeasant, with an unkempt beard, as he sat jolting from side toside on a well-fed mare, addressing an old man in a torn coat whorode by his side. The two men were driving a herd of thepeasants' horses to graze in the night, alongside the highroadand secretly, in the landlord's forest.

　　"Give you the land for nothing--you need only sign--have they notdone the likes of us often enough? No, my friend, none of yourhumbug. Nowadays we have a little sense," he added, and beganshouting at a colt that had strayed.

　　He stopped his horse and looked round, but the colt had notremained behind; it had gone into the meadow by the roadside."Bother that son of a Turk; he's taken to getting into thelandowner's meadows," said the dark peasant with the unkemptbeard, hearing the cracking of the sorrel stalks that theneighing colt was galloping over as he came running back from thescented meadow.

　　"Do you hear the cracking? We'll have to send the women folk toweed the meadow when there's a holiday," said the thin peasantwith the torn coat, "or else we'll blunt our scythes."

　　"Sign," he says. The unkempt man continued giving his opinion ofthe landlord's speech. "'Sign,' indeed, and let him swallow youup."

　　"That's certain," answered the old man. And then they weresilent, and the tramping of the horses' feet along the highroadwas the only sound to be heard.

　　CHAPTER VIII.

　　GOD'S PEACE IN THE HEART.

　　When Nekhludoff returned he found that the office had beenarranged as a bedroom for him. A high bedstead, with a featherbed and two large pillows, had been placed in the room. The bedwas covered with a dark red doublebedded silk quilt, which waselaborately and finely quilted, and very stiff. It evidentlybelonged to the trousseau of the foreman's wife. The foremanoffered Nekhludoff the remains of the dinner, which the latterrefused, and, excusing himself for the poorness of the fare andthe accommodation, he left Nekhludoff alone.

　　The peasants' refusal did not at all bother Nekhludoff. On thecontrary, though at Kousminski his offer had been accepted and hehad even been thanked for it, and here he was met with suspicionand even enmity, he felt contented and joyful.

　　It was close and dirty in the office. Nekhludoff went out intothe yard, and was going into the garden, but he remembered: thatnight, the window of the maid-servant's room, the side porch, andhe felt uncomfortable, and did not like to pass the spotdesecrated by guilty memories. He sat down on the doorstep, andbreathing in the warm air, balmy with the strong scent of freshbirch leaves, he sat for a long time looking into the dark gardenand listening to the mill, the nightingales, and some other birdthat whistled monotonously in the bush close by. The lightdisappeared from the foreman's window; in the cast, behind thebarn, appeared the light of the rising moon, and sheet lightningbegan to light up the dilapidated house, and the blooming,over-grown garden more and more frequently. It began to thunderin the distance, and a black cloud spread over one-third of thesky. The nightingales and the other birds were silent. Above themurmur of the water from the mill came the cackling of geese, andthen in the village and in the foreman's yard the first cocksbegan to crow earlier than usual, as they do on warm, thunderynights. There is a saying that if the cocks crow early the nightwill be a merry one. For Nekhludoff the night was more thanmerry; it was a happy, joyful night. Imagination renewed theimpressions of that happy summer which he had spent here as aninnocent lad, and he felt himself as he had been not only at thatbut at all the best moments of his life. He not only rememberedbut felt as he had felt when, at the age of 14, he prayed thatGod would show him the truth; or when as a child he had wept onhis mother's lap, when parting from her, and promising to bealways good, and never give her pain; he felt as he did when heand Nikolenka Irtenieff resolved always to support each other inliving a good life and to try to make everybody happy.

　　He remembered how he had been tempted in Kousminski, so that hehad begun to regret the house and the forest and the farm and theland, and he asked himself if he regretted them now, and it evenseemed strange to think that he could regret them. He rememberedall he had seen to-day; the woman with the children, and withouther husband, who was in prison for having cut down trees in his(Nekhludoff's) forest, and the terrible Matrona, who considered,or at least talked as if she considered, that women of herposition must give themselves to the gentlefolk; he rememberedher relation to the babies, the way in which they were taken tothe Foundlings' Hospital, and the unfortunate, smiling, wizenedbaby with the patchwork cap, dying of starvation. And then hesuddenly remembered the prison, the shaved heads, the cells, thedisgusting smells, the chains, and, by the side of it all, themadly lavish city lift of the rich, himself included.

　　The bright moon, now almost full, rose above the barn. Darkshadows fell across the yard, and the iron roof of the ruinedhouse shone bright. As if unwilling to waste this light, thenightingales again began their trills.

　　Nekhludoff called to mind how he had begun to consider his lifein the garden of Kousminski when deciding what he was going todo, and remembered how confused he had become, how he could notarrive at any decision, how many difficulties each question hadpresented. He asked himself these questions now, and wassurprised how simple it all was. It was simple because he was notthinking now of what would be the results for himself, but onlythought of what he had to do. And, strange to say, what he had todo for himself he could not decide, but what he had to do forothers he knew without any doubt. He had no doubt that he mustnot leave Katusha, but go on helping her. He had no doubt that hemust study, investigate, clear up, understand all this businessconcerning judgment and punishment, which he felt he sawdifferently to other people. What would result from it all he didnot know, but he knew for certain that he must do it. And thisfirm assurance gave him joy.

　　The black cloud had spread all over the sky; the lightningflashed vividly across the yard and the old house with itstumble-down porches, the thunder growled overhead. All the birdswere silent, but the leaves rustled and the wind reached the stepwhere Nekhludoff stood and played with his hair. One drop camedown, then another; then they came drumming on the dock leavesand on the iron of the roof, and all the air was filled by abright flash, and before Nekhludoff could count three a fearfulcrash sounded over head and spread pealing all over the sky.

　　Nekhludoff went in.

　　"Yes, yes," he thought. "The work that our life accomplishes, thewhole of this work, the meaning of it is not, nor can be,intelligible to me. What were my aunts for? Why did NikolenkaIrtenieff die? Why am I living? What was Katusha for? And mymadness? Why that war? Why my subsequent lawless life? Tounderstand it, to understand the whole of the Master's will isnot in my power. But to do His will, that is written down in myconscience, is in my power; that I know for certain. And when Iam fulfilling it I have sureness and peace."

　　The rain came down in torrents and rushed from the roof into atub beneath; the lightning lit up the house and yard lessfrequently. Nekhludoff went into his room, undressed, and laydown, not without fear of the bugs, whose presence the dirty,torn wall-papers made him suspect.

　　"Yes, to feel one's self not the master but a servant," hethought, and rejoiced at the thought. His fears were not vain.Hardly had he put out his candle when the vermin attacked andstung him. "To give up the land and go to Siberia. Fleas, bugs,dirt! Ah, well; if it must be borne, I shall bear it." But, inspite of the best of intentions, he could not bear it, and satdown by the open window and gazed with admiration at theretreating clouds and the reappearing moon.

　　CHAPTER IX.

　　THE LAND SETTLEMENT.

　　It was morning before Nekhludoff could fall asleep, and thereforehe woke up late. At noon seven men, chosen from among thepeasants at the foreman's invitation, came into the orchard,where the foreman had arranged a table and benches by diggingposts into the ground, and fixing boards on the top, under theapple trees. It took some time before the peasants could bepersuaded to put on their caps and to sit down on the benches.Especially firm was the ex-soldier, who to-day had bark shoes on.He stood erect, holding his cap as they do at funerals, accordingto military regulation. When one of them, a respectable-looking,broad-shouldered old man, with a curly, grizzly beard like thatof Michael Angelo's "Moses," and grey hair that curled round thebrown, bald forehead, put on his big cap, and, wrapping his coatround him, got in behind the table and sat down, the restfollowed his example. When all had taken their places Nekhludoffsat down opposite them, and leaning on the table over the paperon which he had drawn up his project, he began explaining it.

　　Whether it was that there were fewer present, or that he wasoccupied with the business in hand and not with himself, anyhow,this time Nekhludoff felt no confusion. He involuntarilyaddressed the broad-shouldered old man with white ringlets in hisgrizzly beard, expecting approbation or objections from him. ButNekhludoff's conjecture was wrong. The respectable-looking oldpatriarch, though he nodded his handsome head approvingly orshook it, and frowned when the others raised an objection,evidently understood with great difficulty, and only when theothers repeated what Nekhludoff had said in their own words. Alittle, almost beardless old fellow, blind in one eye, who sat bythe side of the patriarch, and had a patched nankeen coat and oldboots on, and, as Nekhludoff found out later, was anoven-builder, understood much better. This man moved his browsquickly, attending to Nekhludoff's words with an effort, and atonce repeated them in his own way. An old, thick-set man with awhite beard and intelligent eyes understood as quickly, and tookevery opportunity to put in an ironical joke, clearly wishing toshow off. The ex-soldier seemed also to understand matters, butgot mixed, being used to senseless soldiers' talk. A tall manwith a small beard, a long nose, and a bass voice, who woreclean, home-made clothes and new bark-plaited shoes, seemed to bethe one most seriously interested. This man spoke only when therewas need of it. The two other old men, the same toothless one whohad shouted a distinct refusal at the meeting the day before toevery proposal of Nekhludoff's, and a tall, white lame old manwith a kind face, his thin legs tightly wrapped round with stripsof linen, said little, though they listened attentively. First ofall Nekhludoff explained his views in regard to personal propertyin land. "The land, according to my idea, can neither he boughtnor sold, because if it could be, he who has got the money couldbuy it all, and exact anything he liked for the use of the landfrom those who have none."

　　"That's true," said the long-nosed man, in a deep bass.

　　"Just so," said the ex-soldier.

　　"A woman gathers a little grass for her cow; she's caught andimprisoned," said the white-bearded old man.

　　"Our own land is five versts away, and as to renting any it'simpossible; the price is raised so high that it won't pay," addedthe cross, toothless old man. "They twist us into ropes, worsethan during serfdom."

　　"I think as you do, and I count it a sin to possess land, so Iwish to give it away," said Nekhludoff.

　　"Well, that's a good thing," said the old man, with curls likeAngelo's "Moses," evidently thinking that Nekhludoff meant to letthe land.

　　"I have come here because I no longer wish to possess any land,and now we must consider the best way of dividing it."

　　"Just give it to the peasants, that's all," said the cross,toothless old man.

　　Nekhludoff was abashed for a moment, feeling a suspicion of hisnot being honest in these words, but he instantly recovered, andmade use of the remark, in order to express what was in his mind,in reply.

　　"I should be glad to give it them," he said, "but to whom, andhow? To which of the peasants? Why, to your commune, and not tothat of Deminsk." (That was the name of a neighbouring villagewith very little land.) All were silent. Then the ex-soldiersaid, "Just so."

　　"Now, then, tell me how would you divide the land among thepeasants if you had to do it?" said Nekhludoff.

　　"We should divide it up equally, so much for every man," said theoven-builder, quickly raising and lowering his brows.

　　"How else? Of course, so much per man," said the good naturedlame man with the white strips of linen round his legs.

　　Every one confirmed this statement, considering it satisfactory.

　　"So much per man? Then are the servants attached to the housealso to have a share?" Nekhludoff asked.

　　"Oh, no," said the ex-soldier, trying to appear bold and merry.But the tall, reasonable man would not agree with him.

　　"If one is to divide, all must share alike," he said, in his deepbass, after a little consideration.

　　"It can't be done," said Nekhludoff, who had already prepared hisreply. "If all are to share alike, then those who do not workthemselves--do not plough--will sell their shares to the rich.The rich will again get at the land. Those who live by workingthe land will multiply, and land will again be scarce. Then therich will again get those who need land into their power."

　　"Just so," quickly said the ex-soldier.

　　"Forbid to sell the land; let only him who ploughs it have it,"angrily interrupted the oven-builder.

　　To this Nekhludoff replied that it was impossible to know who wasploughing for himself and who for another.

　　The tall, reasonable man proposed that an arrangement be made sothat they should all plough communally, and those who ploughedshould get the produce and those who did not should get nothing.

　　To this communistic project Nekhludoff had also an answer ready.He said that for such an arrangement it would be necessary thatall should have ploughs, and that all the horses should be alike,so that none should be left behind, and that ploughs and horsesand all the implements would have to be communal property, andthat in order to get that, all the people would have to agree.

　　"Our people could not be made to agree in a lifetime," said thecross old man.

　　"We should have regular fights," said the white-bearded old manwith the laughing eyes. "So that the thing is not as simple as itlooks," said Nekhludoff, "and this is a thing not only we butmany have been considering. There is an American, Henry George.This is what he has thought out, and I agree with him."

　　"Why, you are the master, and you give it as you like. What's itto you? The power is yours," said the cross old man.

　　This confused Nekhludoff, but he was pleased to see that not healone was dissatisfied with this interruption.

　　You wait a bit, Uncle Simon; let him tell us about it," said thereasonable man, in his imposing bass.

　　This emboldened Nekhludoff, and he began to explain HenryGeorge's single-tax system "The earth is no man's; it is God's,"he began.

　　"Just so; that it is," several voices replied.

　　"The land is common to all. All have the same right to it, butthere is good land and bad land, and every one would like to takethe good land. How is one to do in order to get it justlydivided? In this way: he that will use the good land must paythose who have got no land the value of the land he uses,"Nekhludoff went on, answering his own question. "As it would bedifficult to say who should pay whom, and money is needed forcommunal use, it should be arranged that he who uses the goodland should pay the amount of the value of his land to thecommune for its needs. Then every one would share equally. If youwant to use land pay for it--more for the good, less for the badland. If you do not wish to use land, don't pay anything, andthose who use the land will pay the taxes and the communalexpenses for you."

　　"Well, he had a head, this George," said the oven-builder, movinghis brows. "He who has good land must pay more."

　　"If only the payment is according to our strength," said the tallman with the bass voice, evidently foreseeing how the matterwould end.

　　"The payment should be not too high and not too low. If it is toohigh it will not get paid, and there will be a loss; and if it istoo low it will be bought and sold. There would be a trading inland. This is what I wished to arrange among you here."

　　"That is just, that is right; yes, that would do," said thepeasants.

　　"He has a head, this George," said the broad-shouldered old manwith the curls. "See what he has invented."

　　"Well, then, how would it be if I wished to take some land?"asked the smiling foreman.

　　"If there is an allotment to spare, take it and work it," saidNekhludoff.

　　"What do you want it for? You have sufficient as it is," said theold man with the laughing eyes.

　　With this the conference ended.

　　Nekhludoff repeated his offer, and advised the men to talk itover with the rest of the commune and to return with the answer.

　　The peasants said they would talk it over and bring an answer,and left in a state of excitement. Their loud talk was audible asthey went along the road, and up to late in the night the soundof voices came along the river from the village.

　　The next day the peasants did not go to work, but spent it inconsidering the landlord's offer. The commune was divided intotwo parties--one which regarded the offer as a profitable one tothemselves and saw no danger in agreeing with it, and anotherwhich suspected and feared the offer it did not understand. Onthe third day, however, all agreed, and some were sent toNekhludoff to accept his offer. They were influenced in theirdecision by the explanation some of the old men gave of thelandlord's conduct, which did away with all fear of deceit. Theythought the gentleman had begun to consider his soul, and wasacting as he did for its salvation. The alms which Nekhludoff hadgiven away while in Panovo made his explanation seem likely. Thefact that Nekhludoff had never before been face to face with suchgreat poverty and so bare a life as the peasants had come to inthis place, and was so appalled by it, made him give away moneyin charity, though he knew that this was not reasonable. He couldnot help giving the money, of which he now had a great deal,having received a large sum for the forest he had sold the yearbefore, and also the hand money for the implements and stock inKousminski. As soon as it was known that the master was givingmoney in charity, crowds of people, chiefly women, began to cometo ask him for help. He did not in the least know how to dealwith them, how to decide, how much, and whom to give to. He feltthat to refuse to give money, of which he had a great deal, topoor people was impossible, yet to give casually to those whoasked was not wise. The last day he spent in Panovo, Nekhludofflooked over the things left in his aunts' house, and in thebottom drawer of the mahogany wardrobe, with the brass lions'heads with rings through them, he found many letters, and amongstthem a photograph of a group, consisting of his aunts, SophiaIvanovna and Mary Ivanovna, a student, and Katusha. Of all thethings in the house he took only the letters and the photograph.The rest he left to the miller who, at the smiling foreman'srecommendation, had bought the house and all it contained, to betaken down and carried away, at one-tenth of the real value.

　　Recalling the feeling of regret at the loss of his property whichhe had felt in Kousminski, Nekhludoff was surprised how he couldhave felt this regret. Now he felt nothing but unceasing joy atthe deliverance, and a sensation of newness something like thatwhich a traveller must experience when discovering new countries.

　　CHAPTER X.

　　NEKHLUDOFF RETURNS TO TOWN.

　　The town struck Nekhludoff in a new and peculiar light on hisreturn. He came back in the evening, when the gas was lit, anddrove from the railway station to his house, where the roomsstill smelt of naphthaline. Agraphena Petrovna and Corney wereboth feeling tired and dissatisfied, and had even had a quarrelover those things that seemed made only to be aired and packedaway. Nekhludoff's room was empty, but not in order, and the wayto it was blocked up with boxes, so that his arrival evidentlyhindered the business which, owing to a curious kind of inertia,was going on in this house. The evident folly of theseproceedings, in which he had once taken part, was so distastefulto Nekhludoff after the impressions the misery of the life of thepeasants had made on him, that he decided to go to a hotel thenext day, leaving Agraphena Petrovna to put away the things asshe thought fit until his sister should come and finally disposeof everything in the house.

　　Nekhludoff left home early and chose a couple of rooms in a verymodest and not particularly clean lodging-house within easy reachof the prison, and, having given orders that some of his thingsshould be sent there, he went to see the advocate. It was coldout of doors. After some rainy and stormy weather it had turnedout cold, as it often does in spring. It was so cold thatNekhludoff felt quite chilly in his light overcoat, and walkedfast hoping to get warmer. His mind was filled with thoughts ofthe peasants, the women, children, old men, and all the povertyand weariness which he seemed to have seen for the first time,especially the smiling, old-faced infant writhing with hiscalfless little legs, and he could not help contrasting what wasgoing on in the town. Passing by the butchers', fishmongers', andclothiers' shops, he was struck, as if he saw them for the firsttime, by the appearance of the clean, well-fed shopkeepers, likewhom you could not find one peasant in the country. These menwere apparently convinced that the pains they took to deceive thepeople who did not know much about their goods was not a uselessbut rather an important business. The coachmen with their broadhips and rows of buttons down their sides, and the door-keeperswith gold cords on their caps, the servant-girls with theiraprons and curly fringes, and especially the smart isvostchikswith the nape of their necks clean shaved, as they sat lollingback in their traps, and examined the passers-by with dissoluteand contemptuous air, looked well fed. In all these peopleNekhludoff could not now help seeing some of these very peasantswho had been driven into the town by lack of land. Some of thepeasants driven to the town had found means of profiting by theconditions of town life and had become like the gentlefolk andwere pleased with their position; others were in a worse positionthan they had been in the country and were more to be pitied thanthe country people.

　　Such seemed the bootmakers Nekhludoff saw in the cellar, thepale, dishevelled washerwomen with their thin, bare, arms ironingat an open window, out of which streamed soapy steam; such thetwo house-painters with their aprons, stockingless feet, allbespattered and smeared with paint, whom Nekhludoff met--theirweak, brown arms bared to above the elbows--carrying a pailful ofpaint, and quarrelling with each other. Their faces lookedhaggard and cross. The dark faces of the carters jolting along intheir carts bore the same expression, and so did the faces of thetattered men and women who stood begging at the street corners.The same kind of faces were to be seen at the open, windows ofthe eating-houses which Nekhludoff passed. By the dirty tables onwhich stood tea things and bottles, and between which waitersdressed in white shirts were rushing hither and thither, satshouting and singing red, perspiring men with stupefied faces.One sat by the window with lifted brows and pouting lips andfixed eyes as if trying to remember something.

　　"And why are they all gathered here?" Nekhludoff thought,breathing in together with the dust which the cold wind blewtowards him the air filled with the smell of rank oil and freshpaint.

　　In one street he met a row of carts loaded with something made ofiron, that rattled so on the uneven pavement that it made hisears and head ache. He started walking still faster in order topass the row of carts, when he heard himself called by name. Hestopped and saw an officer with sharp pointed moustaches andshining face who sat in the trap of a swell isvostchik and wavedhis hand in a friendly manner, his smile disclosing unusuallylong, white teeth.

　　"Nekhludoff! Can it be you?"

　　Nekhludoff's first feeling was one of pleasure. "Ah, Schonbock!"he exclaimed joyfully; but he knew the next moment that there wasnothing to be joyful about.

　　This was that Schonbock who had been in the house of Nekhludoff'saunts that day, and whom Nekhludoff had quite lost out of sight,but about whom he had heard that in spite of his debts he hadsomehow managed to remain in the cavalry, and by some means orother still kept his place among the rich. His gay, contentedappearance corroborated this report.

　　"What a good thing that I have caught you. There is no one intown. Ah, old fellow; you have grown old," he said, getting outof the trap and moving his shoulders about. "I only knew you byyour walk. Look here, we must dine together. Is there any placewhere they feed one decently?"

　　"I don't think I can spare the time," Nekhludoff answered,thinking only of how he could best get rid of his companionwithout hurting him.

　　"And what has brought you here?" he asked.

　　"Business, old fellow. Guardianship business. I am a guardiannow. I am managing Samanoff's affairs--the millionaire, you know.He has softening of the brain, and he's got fifty-four thousanddesiatins of land," he said, with peculiar pride, as if he hadhimself made all these desiatins. "The affairs were terriblyneglected. All the land was let to the peasants. They did not payanything. There were more than eighty thousand roubles debts. Ichanged it all in one year, and have got 70 per cent. more out ofit. What do you think of that?" he asked proudly.

　　Nekhludoff remembered having heard that this Schonbock, justbecause, he had spent all he had, had attained by some specialinfluence the post of guardian to a rich old man who wassquandering his property--and was now evidently living by thisguardianship.

　　"How am I to get rid of him without offending him?" thoughtNekhludoff, looking at this full, shiny face with the stiffenedmoustache and listening to his friendly, good-humoured chatterabout where one gets fed best, and his bragging about his doingsas a guardian.

　　"Well, then, where do we dine?"

　　"Really, I have no time to spare," said Nekhludoff, glancing athis watch.

　　"Then, look here. To-night, at the races--will you be there?"

　　"No, I shall not be there."

　　"Do come. I have none of my own now, but I back Grisha's horses.You remember; he has a fine stud. You'll come, won't you? Andwe'll have some supper together."

　　"No, I cannot have supper with you either," said Nekhludoff witha smile.

　　"Well, that's too bad! And where are you off to now? Shall I giveyou a lift?"

　　"I am going to see an advocate, close to here round the corner."

　　"Oh, yes, of course. You have got something to do with theprisons--have turned into a prisoners' mediator, I hear," saidSchonbock, laughing. "The Korchagins told me. They have left townalready. What does it all mean? Tell me."

　　"Yes, yes, it is quite true," Nekhludoff answered; "but I cannottell you about it in the street."

　　"Of course; you always were a crank. But you will come to theraces?"

　　"No. I neither can nor wish to come. Please do not be angry withme."

　　"Angry? Dear me, no. Where do you live?" And suddenly his facebecame serious, his eyes fixed, and he drew up his brows. Heseemed to be trying to remember something, and Nekhludoff noticedthe same dull expression as that of the man with the raised browsand pouting lips whom he had seen at the window of theeating-house.

　　"How cold it is! Is it not? Have you got the parcels?" saidSchonbock, turning to the isvostchik.

　　"All right. Good-bye. I am very glad indeed to have met you," andwarmly pressing Nekhludoff's hand, he jumped into the trap andwaved his white-gloved hand in front of his shiny face, with hisusual smile, showing his exceptionally white teeth.

　　"Can I have also been like that?" Nekhludoff thought, as hecontinued his way to the advocate's. "Yes, I wished to be likethat, though I was not quite like it. And I thought of living mylife in that way."

　　CHAPTER XI.

　　AN ADVOCATE'S VIEWS ON JUDGES AND PROSECUTORS.

　　Nekhludoff was admitted by the advocate before his turn. Theadvocate at once commenced to talk about the Menshoffs' case,which he had read with indignation at the inconsistency of theaccusation.

　　"This case is perfectly revolting," he said; "it is very likelythat the owner himself set fire to the building in order to getthe insurance money, and the chief thing is that there is noevidence to prove the Menshoffs' guilt. There are no proofswhatever. It is all owing to the special zeal of the examiningmagistrate and the carelessness of the prosecutor. If they aretried here, and not in a provincial court, I guarantee that theywill be acquitted, and I shall charge nothing. Now then, the nextcase, that of Theodosia Birukoff. The appeal to the Emperor iswritten. If you go to Petersburg, you'd better take it with you,and hand it in yourself, with a request of your own, or else theywill only make a few inquiries, and nothing will come of it. Youmust try and get at some of the influential members of the AppealCommittee."

　　"Well, is this all?"

　　"No; here I have a letter . . . I see you have turned into apipe--a spout through which all the complaints of the prison arepoured," said the advocate, with a smile. "It is too much; you'llnot be able to manage it."

　　"No, but this is a striking case," said Nekhludoff, and gave abrief outline of the case of a peasant who began to read theGospels to the peasants in the village, and to discuss them withhis friends. The priests regarded this as a crime and informedthe authorities. The magistrate examined him and the publicprosecutor drew up an act of indictment, and the law courtscommitted him for trial.

　　"This is really too terrible," Nekhludoff said. "Can it be true?"

　　"What are you surprised at?"

　　"Why, everything. I can understand the police-officer, who simplyobeys orders, but the prosecutor drawing up an act of that kind.An educated man . . ."

　　"That is where the mistake lies, that we are in the habit ofconsidering that the prosecutors and the judges in general aresome kind of liberal persons. There was a time when they weresuch, but now it is quite different. They are just officials,only troubled about pay-day. They receive their salaries and wantthem increased, and there their principles end. They will accuse,judge, and sentence any one you like."

　　"Yes; but do laws really exist that can condemn a man to Siberiafor reading the Bible with his friends?"

　　"Not only to be exiled to the less remote parts of Siberia, buteven to the mines, if you can only prove that reading the Biblethey took the liberty of explaining it to others not according toorders, and in this way condemned the explanations given by theChurch. Blaming the Greek orthodox religion in the presence ofthe common people means, according to Statute . . . the mines."

　　"Impossible!"

　　"I assure you it is so. I always tell these gentlemen, thejudges," the advocate continued, "that I cannot look at themwithout gratitude, because if I am not in prison, and you, andall of us, it is only owing to their kindness. To deprive us ofour privileges, and send us all to the less remote parts ofSiberia, would be an easy thing for them."

　　"Well, if it is so, and if everything depends on the Procureurand others who can, at will, either enforce the laws or not, whatare the trials for?"

　　The advocate burst into a merry laugh. "You do put strangequestions. My dear sir, that is philosophy. Well, we might have atalk about that, too. Could you come on Saturday? You will meetmen of science, literary men, and artists at my house, and thenwe might discuss these general questions," said the advocate,pronouncing the words "general questions" with ironical pathos."You have met my wife? Do come."

　　"Thank you; I will try to," said Nekhludoff, and felt that he wassaying an untruth, and knew that if he tried to do anything itwould be to keep away froth the advocate's literary evening, andthe circle of the men of science, art, and literature.

　　The laugh with which the advocate met Nekhludoff's remark thattrials could have no meaning if the judges might enforce the lawsor not, according to their notion, and the tone with which hepronounced the words "philosophy" and "general questions" provedto Nekhludoff how very differently he and the advocate and,probably, the advocate's friends, looked at things; and he feltthat in spite of the distance that now existed between himselfand his former companions, Schonbock, etc., the differencebetween himself and the circle of the advocate and his friendswas still greater.

　　CHAPTER XII.

　　WHY THE PEASANTS FLOCK TO TOWN.

　　The prison was a long way off and it was getting late, soNekhludoff took an isvostchik. The isvostchik, a middle-aged manwith an intelligent and kind face, turned round towardsNekhludoff as they were driving along one of the streets andpointed to a huge house that was being built there.

　　"Just see what a tremendous house they have begun to build," hesaid, as if he was partly responsible for the building of thehouse and proud of it. The house was really immense and was beingbuilt in a very original style. The strong pine beams of thescaffolding were firmly fixed together with iron bands and aplank wall separated the building from the street.

　　On the boards of the scaffolding workmen, all bespattered withplaster, moved hither and thither like ants. Some were layingbricks, some hewing stones, some carrying up the heavy hods andpails and bringing them down empty. A fat and finely-dressedgentleman--probably the architect--stood by the scaffolding,pointing upward and explaining something to a contractor, apeasant from the Vladimir Government, who was respectfullylistening to him. Empty carts were coming out of the gate bywhich the architect and the contractor were standing, and loadedones were going in. "And how sure they all are--those that do thework as well as those that make them do it--that it ought to be;that while their wives at home, who are with child, are labouringbeyond their strength, and their children with the patchworkcaps, doomed soon to the cold grave, smile with suffering andcontort their little legs, they must be building this stupid anduseless palace for some stupid and useless person--one of thosewho spoil and rob them," Nekhludoff thought, while looking at thehouse.

　　"Yes, it is a stupid house," he said, uttering his thought outaloud.

　　"Why stupid?" replied the isvostchik, in an offended tone."Thanks to it, the people get work; it's not stupid."

　　"But the work is useless."

　　"It can't be useless, or why should it be done?" said theisvostchik. "The people get bread by it."

　　Nekhludoff was silent, and it would have been difficult to talkbecause of the clatter the wheels made.

　　When they came nearer the prison, and the isvostchik turned offthe paved on to the macadamised road, it became easier to talk,and he again turned to Nekhludoff.

　　"And what a lot of these people are flocking to the townnowadays; it's awful," he said, turning round on the box andpointing to a party of peasant workmen who were coming towardsthem, carrying saws, axes, sheepskins, coats, and bags strappedto their shoulders.

　　"More than in other years?" Nekhludoff asked.

　　"By far. This year every place is crowded, so that it's justterrible. The employers just fling the workmen about like chaff.Not a job to be got."

　　"Why is that?"

　　"They've increased. There's no room for them."

　　"Well, what if they have increased? Why do not they stay in thevillage?"

　　"There's nothing for them to do in the village--no land to behad."

　　Nekhludoff felt as one does when touching a sore place. It feelsas if the bruised part was always being hit; yet it is onlybecause the place is sore that the touch is felt.

　　"Is it possible that the same thing is happening everywhere?" hethought, and began questioning the isvostchik about the quantityof land in his village, how much land the man himself had, andwhy he had left the country.

　　"We have a desiatin per man, sir," he said. "Our family havethree men's shares of the land. My father and a brother are athome, and manage the land, and another brother is serving in thearmy. But there's nothing to manage. My brother has had thoughtsof coming to Moscow, too."

　　"And cannot land be rented?

　　"How's one to rent it nowadays? The gentry, such as they were,have squandered all theirs. Men of business have got it all intotheir own hands. One can't rent it from them. They farm itthemselves. We have a Frenchman ruling in our place; he boughtthe estate from our former landlord, and won't let it--andthere's an end of it."

　　"Who's that Frenchman?"

　　"Dufour is the Frenchman's name. Perhaps you've heard of him. Hemakes wigs for the actors in the big theatre; it is a goodbusiness, so he's prospering. He bought it from our lady, thewhole of the estate, and now he has us in his power; he justrides on us as he pleases. The Lord be thanked, he is a good manhimself; only his wife, a Russian, is such a brute that--God havemercy on us. She robs the people. It's awful. Well, here's theprison. Am I to drive you to the entrance? I'm afraid they'll notlet us do it, though."

　　CHAPTER XIII.

　　NURSE MASLOVA.

　　When he rang the bell at the front entrance Nekhludoff's heartstood still with horror as he thought of the state he might findMaslova in to-day, and at the mystery that he felt to be in herand in the people that were collected in the prison. He asked thejailer who opened the door for Maslova. After making thenecessary inquiry the jailer informed him that she was in thehospital. Nekhludoff went there. A kindly old man, the hospitaldoorkeeper, let him in at once and, after asking Nekhludoff whomhe wanted, directed him to the children's ward. A young doctorsaturated with carbolic acid met Nekhludoff in the passage andasked him severely what he wanted. This doctor was always makingall sorts of concessions to the prisoners, and was thereforecontinually coming into conflict with the prison authorities andeven with the head doctor. Fearing lest Nekhludoff should demandsomething unlawful, and wishing to show that he made noexceptions for any one, he pretended to be cross. "There are nowomen here; it is the children's ward," he said.

　　"Yes, I know; but a prisoner has been removed here to be anassistant nurse."

　　"Yes, there are two such here. Then whom do you want?"

　　"I am closely connected with one of them, named Maslova,"Nekhludoff answered, "and should like to speak to her. I am goingto Petersburg to hand in an appeal to the Senate about her caseand should like to give her this. It is only a photo," Nekhludoffsaid, taking an envelope out of his pocket.

　　"All right, you may do that," said the doctor, relenting, andturning to an old woman with a white apron, he told her to callthe prisoner--Nurse Maslova.

　　"Will you take a seat, or go into the waiting-room?

　　"Thanks," said Nekhludoff, and profiting by the favourable changein the manner of the doctor towards him asked how they weresatisfied with Maslova in the hospital.

　　"Oh, she is all right. She works fairly well, if you theconditions of her former life into account. But here she is."

　　The old nurse came in at one of the doors, followed by Maslova,who wore a blue striped dress, a white apron, a kerchief thatquite covered her hair. When she saw Nekhludoff her face flushed,and she stopped as if hesitating, then frowned, and with downcasteyes went quickly towards him along the strip of carpet in themiddle of the passage. When she came up to Nekhludoff she did notwish to give him her hand, and then gave it, growing redderstill. Nekhludoff had not seen her since the day when she beggedforgiveness for having been in a passion, and he expected to findher the same as she was then. But to-day she quite different.There was something new in the expression of her face, reserveand shyness, and, as it seemed to him, animosity towards him. Hetold her what he had already said to the doctor, i.e., that hewas going to Petersburg, and he handed her the envelope with thephotograph which he had brought from Panovo.

　　"I found this in Panovo--it's an old photo; perhaps you would likeit. Take it."

　　Lifting her dark eyebrows, she looked at him with surprise in hersquinting eyes, as if asking, "What is this for?" took the photosilently and put it in the bib of her apron

　　"I saw your aunt there," said Nekhludoff.

　　"Did you?" she said, indifferently.

　　"Are you all right here?" Nekhludoff asked.

　　"Oh, yes, it's all right," she said.

　　"Not too difficult?"

　　"Oh, no. But I am not used to it yet."

　　"I am glad, for your sake. Anyhow, it is better than there."

　　"Than where--there?" she asked, her face flushing again.

　　"There--in the prison," Nekhludoff hurriedly answered.

　　"Why better?" she asked.

　　"I think the people are better. Here are none such as there mustbe there."

　　"There are many good ones there," she said.

　　"I have been seeing about the Menshoffs, and hope they will beliberated," said Nekhludoff.

　　"God grant they may. Such a splendid old woman," she said, againrepeating her opinion of the old woman, and slightly smiling.

　　"I am going to Petersburg to-day. Your case will come on soon,and I hope the sentence will be repealed."

　　"Whether it is repealed or not won't matter now," she said.

　　"Why not now?"

　　"So," she said, looking with a quick, questioning glance into hiseyes.

　　Nekhludoff understood the word and the look to mean that shewished to know whether he still kept firm to his decision or hadaccepted her refusal.

　　"I do not know why it does not matter to you," he said. "Itcertainly does not matter as far as I am concerned whether youare acquitted or not. I am ready to do what I told you in anycase," he said decidedly.

　　She lifted her head and her black squinting eyes remained fixedon him and beyond him, and her face beamed with joy. But thewords she spoke were very different from what her eyes said.

　　"You should not speak like that," she said.

　　"I am saying it so that you should know."

　　"Everything has been said about that, and there is no usespeaking," she said, with difficulty repressing a smile.

　　A sudden noise came from the hospital ward, and the sound of achild crying.

　　"I think they are calling me," she said, and looked rounduneasily.

　　"Well, good-bye, then," he said. She pretended not to see hisextended hand, and, without taking it, turned away and hastilywalked along the strip of carpet, trying to hide the triumph shefelt.

　　"What is going on in her? What is she thinking? What does shefeel? Does she mean to prove me, or can she really not forgiveme? Is it that she cannot or that she will not express what shefeels and thinks? Has she softened or hardened?" he askedhimself, and could find no answer. He only knew that she hadaltered and that an important change was going on in her soul,and this change united him not only to her but also to Him forwhose sake that change was being wrought. And this union broughton a state of joyful animation and tenderness.

　　When she returned to the ward, in which there stood eight smallbeds, Maslova began, in obedience to the nurse's order, toarrange one of the beds; and, bending over too far with thesheet, she slipped and nearly fell down.

　　A little convalescent boy with a bandaged neck, who was lookingat her, laughed. Maslova could no longer contain herself andburst into loud laughter, and such contagious laughter thatseveral of the children also burst out laughing, and one of thesisters rebuked her angrily.

　　"What are you giggling at? Do you think you are where you used tobe? Go and fetch the food." Maslova obeyed and went where she wassent; but, catching the eye of the bandaged boy who was notallowed to laugh, she again burst out laughing.

　　Whenever she was alone Maslova again and again pulled thephotograph partly out of the envelope and looked at itadmiringly; but only in the evening when she was off duty andalone in the bedroom which she shared with a nurse, did she takeit quite out of the envelope and gaze long at the faded yellowphotograph, caressing with, her eyes every detail of faces andclothing, the steps of the veranda, and the bushes which servedas a background to his and hers and his aunts' faces, and couldnot cease from admiring especially herself--her pretty young facewith the curly hair round the forehead. She was so absorbed thatshe did not hear her fellow-nurse come into the room.

　　"What is it that he's given you?" said the good-natured, fatnurse, stooping over the photograph.

　　"Who's this? You?"

　　"Who else?" said Maslova, looking into her companion's face witha smile.

　　"And who's this?"

　　"Himself."

　　"And is this his mother?"

　　"No, his aunt. Would you not have known me?"

　　"Never. The whole face is altered. Why, it must be 10 years sincethen."

　　"Not years, but a lifetime," said Maslova. And suddenly heranimation went, her face grew gloomy, and a deep line appearedbetween her brows.

　　"Why so? Your way of life must have been an easy one."

　　"Easy, indeed," Maslova reiterated, closing her eyes and shakingher head. "It is hell."

　　"Why, what makes it so?"

　　"What makes it so! From eight till four in the morning, and everynight the same!"

　　"Then why don't they give it up?"

　　"They can't give it up if they want to. But what's the use oftalking?" Maslova said, jumping up and throwing the photographinto the drawer of the table. And with difficulty repressingangry tears, she ran out into the passage and slammed the door.

　　While looking at the group she imagined herself such as she wasthere and dreamt of her happiness then and of the possibility ofhappiness with him now. But her companion's words reminded her ofwhat she was now and what she had been, and brought back all thehorrors of that life, which she had felt but dimly, and notallowed herself to realise.

　　It was only now that the memory of all those terrible nights camevividly back to her, especially one during the carnival when shewas expecting a student who had promised to buy her out. Sheremembered how she--wearing her low necked silk dress stainedwith wine, a red bow in her untidy hair, wearied, weak, halftipsy, having seen her visitors off, sat down during an intervalin the dancing by the piano beside the bony pianiste with theblotchy face, who played the accompaniments to the violin, andbegan complaining of her hard fate; and how this pianiste saidthat she, too, was feeling how heavy her position was and wouldlike to change it; and how Clara suddenly came up to them; andhow they all three decided to change their life. They thoughtthat the night was over, and were about to go away, when suddenlythe noise of tipsy voices was herd in the ante-room. Theviolinist played a tune and the pianiste began hammering thefirst figure of a quadrille on the piano, to the tune of a mostmerry Russian song. A small, perspiring man, smelling of spirits,with a white tie and swallow-tail coat, which he took off afterthe first figure, came up to her, hiccoughing, and caught her up,while another fat man, with a beard, and also wearing adress-coat (they had come straight from a ball) caught Clara up,and for a long time they turned, danced, screamed, drank. . . .And so it went on for another year, and another, and a third. Howcould she help changing? And he was the cause of it all. And,suddenly, all her former bitterness against him reawoke; shewished to scold, to reproach him. She regretted having neglectedthe opportunity of repeating to him once more that she knew him,and would not give in to him--would not let him make use of herspiritually as he had done physically.

　　And she longed for drink in order to stifle the feeling of pityto herself and the useless feeling of reproach to him. And shewould have broken her word if she had been inside the prison.Here she could not get any spirits except by applying to themedical assistant, and she was afraid of him because he made upto her, and intimate relations with men were disgusting to hernow. After sitting a while on a form in the passage she returnedto her little room, and without paying any heed to hercompanion's words, she wept for a long time over her wreckedlife.

　　CHAPTER XIV.

　　AN ARISTOCRATIC CIRCLE.

　　Nekhludoff had four matters to attend to in Petersburg. The firstwas the appeal to the Senate in Maslova's case; the second, tohand in Theodosia Birukoff's petition to the committee; thethird, to comply with Vera Doukhova's requests--i.e., try to gether friend Shoustova released from prison, and get permission fora mother to visit her son in prison. Vera Doukhova had written tohim about this, and he was going to the Gendarmerie Office toattend to these two matters, which he counted as one.

　　The fourth matter he meant to attend to was the case of somesectarians who had been separated from their families and exiledto the Caucasus because they read and discussed the Gospels. Itwas not so much to them as to himself he had promised to do allhe could to clear up this affair.

　　Since his last visit to Maslennikoff, and especially since he hadbeen in the country, Nekhludoff had not exactly formed aresolution but felt with his whole nature a loathing for thatsociety in which he had lived till then, that society which socarefully hides the sufferings of millions in order to assureease and pleasure to a small number of people, that the peoplebelonging to this society do not and cannot see these sufferings,nor the cruelty and wickedness of their life. Nekhludoff could nolonger move in this society without feeling ill at ease andreproaching himself. And yet all the ties of relationship andfriendship, and his own habits, were drawing him back into thissociety. Besides, that which alone interested him now, his desireto help Maslova and the other sufferers, made it necessary to askfor help and service from persons belonging to that society,persons whom he not only could not respect, but who often arousedin him indignation and a feeling of contempt.

　　When he came to Petersburg and stopped at his aunt's--hismother's sister, the Countess Tcharsky, wife of a formerminister--Nekhludoff at once found himself in the very midst ofthat aristocratic circle which had grown so foreign to him. Thiswas very unpleasant, but there was no possibility of getting outof it. To put up at an hotel instead of at his aunt's house wouldhave been to offend his aunt, and, besides, his aunt hadimportant connections and might be extremely useful in all thesematters he meant to attend to.

　　"What is this I hear about you? All sorts of marvels," said theCountess Katerina Ivanovna Tcharsky, as she gave him his coffeeimmediately after his arrival. "Vous posez pour un Howard.Helping criminals, going the round of prisons, setting thingsright."

　　"Oh, no. I never thought of it."

　　"Why not? It is a good thing, only there seems to be someromantic story connected with it. Let us hear all about it."

　　Nekhludoff told her the whole truth about his relations toMaslova.

　　"Yes, yes, I remember your poor mother telling me about it. Thatwas when you were staying with those old women. I believe theywished to marry you to their ward (the Countess Katerina Ivanovnahad always despised Nekhludoff's aunts on his father's side). Soit's she. Elle est encore jolie?"

　　Katerina Ivanovna was a strong, bright, energetic, talkativewoman of 60. She was tall and very stout, and had a decided blackmoustache on her lip. Nekhludoff was fond of her and had even asa child been infected by her energy and mirth.

　　"No, ma tante, that's at an end. I only wish to help her, becauseshe is innocently accused. "I am the cause of it and the cause ofher fate being what it is. I feel it my duty to do all I can forher."

　　"But what is this I have heard about your intention of marryingher?"

　　"Yes, it was my intention, but she does not wish it."

　　Katerina Ivanovna looked at her nephew with raised brows anddrooping eyeballs, in silent amazement. Suddenly her facechanged, and with a look of pleasure she said: "Well, she iswiser than you. Dear me, you are a fool. And you would havemarried her?

　　"Most certainly."

　　"After her having been what she was?"

　　"All the more, since I was the cause of it."

　　"Well, you are a simpleton," said his aunt, repressing a smile,"a terrible simpleton; but it is just because you are such aterrible simpleton that I love you." She repeated the word,evidently liking it, as it seemed to correctly convey to her mindthe idea of her nephew's moral state. "Do you know--What a luckychance. Aline has a wonderful home--the Magdalene Home. I wentthere once. They are terribly disgusting. After that I had topray continually. But Aline is devoted to it, body and soul, sowe shall place her there--yours, I mean."

　　"But she is condemned to Siberia. I have come on purpose toappeal about it. This is one of my requests to you."

　　"Dear me, and where do you appeal to in this case?"

　　"To the Senate."

　　"Ah, the Senate! Yes, my dear Cousin Leo is in the Senate, but heis in the heraldry department, and I don't know any of the realones. They are all some kind of Germans--Gay, Fay, Day--toutl'alphabet, or else all sorts of Ivanoffs, Simenoffs, Nikitines,or else Ivanenkos, Simonenkos, Nikitenkos, pour varier. Des gensde l'autre monde. Well, it is all the same. I'll tell my husband,he knows them. He knows all sorts of people. I'll tell him, butyou will have to explain, he never understands me. Whatever I maysay, he always maintains he does not understand it. C'est unparti pris, every one understands but only not he."

　　At this moment a footman with stockinged legs came in with a noteon a silver platter.

　　"There now, from Aline herself. You'll have a chance of hearingKiesewetter."

　　"Who is Kiesewetter?"

　　"Kiesewetter? Come this evening, and you will find out who he is.He speaks in such a way that the most hardened criminals sink ontheir knees and weep and repent."

　　The Countess Katerina Ivanovna, however strange it may seem, andhowever little it seemed in keeping with the rest of hercharacter, was a staunch adherent to that teaching which holdsthat the essence of Christianity lies in the belief inredemption. She went to meetings where this teaching, then infashion, was being preached, and assembled the "faithful" in herown house. Though this teaching repudiated all ceremonies, icons,and sacraments, Katerina Ivanovna had icons in every room, andone on the wall above her bed, and she kept all that the Churchprescribed without noticing any contradiction in that.

　　"There now; if your Magdalene could hear him she would beconverted," said the Countess. "Do stay at home to-night; youwill hear him. He is a wonderful man."

　　"It does not interest me, ma tante."

　　"But I tell you that it is interesting, and you must come home.Now you may go. What else do you want of me? Videz votre sac."

　　"The next is in the fortress."

　　"In the fortress? I can give you a note for that to the BaronKriegsmuth. Cest un tres brave homme. Oh, but you know him; hewas a comrade of your father's. Il donne dans le spiritisme. Butthat does not matter, he is a good fellow. What do you wantthere?"

　　"I want to get leave for a mother to visit her son who isimprisoned there. But I was told that this did not depend onKriegsmuth but on Tcherviansky."

　　"I do not like Tcherviansky, but he is Mariette's husband; wemight ask her. She will do it for me. Elle est tres gentille."

　　"I have also to petition for a woman who is imprisoned therewithout knowing what for."

　　"No fear; she knows well enough. They all know it very well, andit serves them right, those short-haired [many advanced women weartheir hair short, like men] ones."

　　"We do not know whether it serves them right or not. But theysuffer. You are a Christian and believe in the Gospel teachingand yet you are so pitiless."

　　"That has nothing to do with it. The Gospels are the Gospels, butwhat is disgusting remains disgusting. It would be worse if Ipretended to love Nihilists, especially short-haired womenNihilists, when I cannot bear them."

　　"Why can you not bear them?"

　　"You ask why, after the 1st of March?" [The Emperor Alexander IIwas killed on the first of March, old style.]

　　"They did not all take part in it on the 1st of March."

　　"Never mind; they should not meddle with what is no business oftheirs. It's not women's business."

　　"Yet you consider that Mariette may take part in business."

　　"Mariette? Mariette is Mariette, and these are goodness knowswhat. Want to teach everybody."

　　"Not to teach but simply to help the people."

　　"One knows whom to help and whom not to help without them."

　　"But the peasants are in great need. I have just returned fromthe country. Is it necessary, that the peasants should work tothe very limits of their strength and never have sufficient toeat while we are living in the greatest luxury?" said Nekhludoff,involuntarily led on by his aunt's good nature into telling herwhat he was in his thoughts.

　　"What do you want, then? That I should work and not eatanything?"

　　"No, I do not wish you not to eat. I only wish that we should allwork and all eat." He could not help smiling as he said it.

　　Again raising her brow and drooping her eyeballs his aunt look athim curiously. "Mon cher vous finirez mal," she said.

　　Just then the general, and former minister, Countess Tcharsky'shusband, a tall, broad-shouldered man, came into the room.

　　"Ah, Dmitri, how d'you do?" he said, turning his freshly-shavedcheek to Nekhludoff to be kissed. "When did you get here?" And hesilently kissed his wife on the forehead.

　　"Non il est impayable," the Countess said, turning to herhusband. "He wants me to go and wash clothes and live onpotatoes. He is an awful fool, but all the same do what he isgoing to ask of you. A terrible simpleton," she added. "Have youheard? Kamenskaya is in such despair that they fear for herlife," she said to her husband. "You should go and call there."

　　"Yes; it is dreadful," said her husband.

　　"Go along, then, and talk to him. I must write some letters."

　　Hardly had Nekhludoff stepped into the room next the drawing-roomthan she called him back.

　　"Shall I write to Mariette, then?"

　　"Please, ma tante."

　　"I shall leave a blank for what you want to say about theshort-haired one, and she will give her husband his orders, andhe'll do it. Do not think me wicked; they are all so disgusting,your prologues, but je ne leur veux pas de mal, bother them.Well, go, but be sure to stay at home this evening to hearKiesewetter, and we shall have some prayers. And if only you donot resist cela vous fera beaucoup de bien. I know your poormother and all of you were always very backward in these things."

　　CHAPTER XV.

　　AN AVERAGE STATESMAN.

　　Count Ivan Michaelovitch had been a minister, and was a man ofstrong convictions. The convictions of Count Ivan Michaelovitchconsisted in the belief that, just as it was natural for a birdto feed on worms, to be clothed in feathers and down, and to flyin the air, so it was natural for him to feed on the choicest andmost expensive food, prepared by highly-paid cooks, to wear themost comfortable and most expensive clothing, to drive with thebest and fastest horses, and that, therefore, all these thingsshould be ready found for him. Besides this, Count IvanMichaelovitch considered that the more money he could get out ofthe treasury by all sorts of means, the more orders he had,including different diamond insignia of something or other, andthe oftener he spoke to highly-placed individuals of both sexes,so much the better it was.

　　All the rest Count Ivan Michaelovitch considered insignificantand uninteresting beside these dogmas. All the rest might be asit was, or just the reverse. Count Ivan Michaelovitch lived andacted according to these lights for 40 years, and at the end of40 years reached the position of a Minister of State. The chiefqualities that enabled Count Ivan Michaelovitch to reach thisposition were his capacity of understanding the meaning ofdocuments and laws and of drawing up, though clumsily,intelligible State papers, and of spelling them correctly;secondly, his very stately appearance, which enabled him, whennecessary, to seem not only extremely proud, but unapproachableand majestic, while at other times he could be abjectly andalmost passionately servile; thirdly, the absence of any generalprinciples or rules, either of personal or administrativemorality, which made it possible for him either to agree ordisagree with anybody according to what was wanted at the time.When acting thus his only endeavour was to sustain the appearanceof good breeding and not to seem too plainly inconsistent. As forhis actions being moral or not, in themselves, or whether theywere going to result in the highest welfare or greatest evil forthe whole of the Russian Empire, or even the entire world, thatwas quite indifferent to him. When he became minister, not onlythose dependent on him (and there were great many of them) andpeople connected with him, but many strangers and even he himselfwere convinced that he was a very clever statesman. But aftersome time had elapsed and he had done nothing and had nothing toshow, and when in accordance with the law of the struggle forexistence others, like himself, who had learnt to write andunderstand documents, stately and unprincipled officials, haddisplaced him, he turned out to be not only far from clever butvery limited and badly educated. Though self-assured, his viewshardly reaching the level of those in the leading articles of theConservative papers, it became apparent that there was nothing inhim to distinguish him from those other badly-educated andself-assured officials who had pushed him out, and he himself sawit. But this did not shake his conviction that he had to receivea great deal of money out of the Treasury every year, and newdecorations for his dress clothes. This conviction was so firmthat no one had the pluck to refuse these things to him, and hereceived yearly, partly in form of a pension, partly as a salaryfor being a member in a Government institution and chairman ofall sorts of committees and councils, several tens of thousandsof roubles, besides the right--highly prized by him--of sewingall sorts of new cords to his shoulders and trousers, and ribbonsto wear under and enamel stars to fix on to his dress coat. Inconsequence of this Count Ivan Michaelovitch had very highconnections.

　　Count Ivan Michaelovitch listened to Nekhludoff as he was wont tolisten to the reports of the permanent secretary of hisdepartment, and, having heard him, said he would give him twonotes, one to the Senator Wolff, of the Appeal Department. "Allsorts of things are reported of him, but dans tous les cas c'estun homme tres comme ii faut," he said. "He is indebted to me, andwill do all that is possible." The other note Count IvanMichaelovitch gave Nekhludoff was to an influential member of thePetition Committee. The story of Theodosia Birukoff as told byNekhludoff interested him very much. When Nekhludoff said that hethought of writing to the Empress, the Count replied that itcertainly was a very touching story, and might, if occasionpresented itself, be told her, but he could not promise. Let thepetition be handed in in due form.

　　Should there be an opportunity, and if a petit comite were calledon Thursday, he thought he would tell her the story. As soon asNekhludoff had received these two notes, and a note to Mariettefrom his aunt, he at once set off to these different places.

　　First he went to Mariette's. He had known her as a half-growngirl, the daughter of an aristocratic but not wealthy family, andhad heard how she had married a man who was making a career, whomNekhludoff had heard badly spoken of; and, as usual, he felt ithard to ask a favour of a man he did not esteem. In these caseshe always felt an inner dissension and dissatisfaction, andwavered whether to ask the favour or not, and always resolved toask. Besides feeling himself in a false position among those towhose set he no longer regarded himself as belonging, who yetregarded him as belonging to them, he felt himself getting intothe old accustomed rut, and in spite of himself fell into thethoughtless and immoral tone that reigned in that circle. He feltthat from the first, with his aunt, he involuntarily fell into abantering tone while talking about serious matters.

　　Petersburg in general affected him with its usual physicallyinvigorating and mentally dulling effect.

　　Everything so clean, so comfortably well-arranged and the peopleso lenient in moral matters, that life seemed very easy.

　　A fine, clean, and polite isvostchik drove him past fine, clean,polite policemen, along the fine, clean, watered streets, pastfine, clean houses to the house in which Mariette lived. At thefront door stood a pair of English horses, with English harness,and an English-looking coachman on the box, with the lower partof his face shaved, proudly holding a whip. The doorkeeper,dressed in a wonderfully clean livery, opened the door into thehall, where in still cleaner livery with gold cords stood thefootman with his splendid whiskers well combed out, and theorderly on duty in a brand-new uniform. "The general does notreceive, and the generaless does not receive either. She is justgoing to drive out."

　　Nekhludoff took out Katerina Ivanovna's letter, and going up to atable on which lay a visitors' book, began to write that he wassorry not to have been able to see any one; when the footman wentup the staircase the doorkeeper went out and shouted to thecoachman, and the orderly stood up rigid with his arms at hissides following with his eyes a little, slight lady, who wascoming down the stairs with rapid steps not in keeping with allthe grandeur.

　　Mariette had a large hat on, with feathers, a black dress andcape, and new black gloves. Her face was covered by a veil.

　　When she saw Nekhludoff she lifted the veil off a very prettyface with bright eyes that looked inquiringly at him.

　　"Ah, Prince Dmitri Ivanovitch Nekhludoff," she said, with a soft,pleasant voice. "I should have known--"

　　"What! you even remember my name?"

　　"I should think so. Why, I and my sisters have even been in lovewith you," she said, in French. "But, dear me, how you havealtered. Oh, what a pity I have to go out. But let us go upagain," she said and stopped hesitatingly. Then she looked at theclock. "No, I can't. I am going to Kamenskaya's to attend a massfor the dead. She is terribly afflicted."

　　"Who is this Kamenskaya?"

　　"Have you not heard? Her son was killed in a duel. He foughtPosen. He was the only son. Terrible I The mother is very muchafflicted."

　　"Yes. I have heard of it."

　　"No, I had better go, and you must come again, to-night orto-morrow," she said, and went to the door with quick, lightsteps.

　　"I cannot come to-night," he said, going out after her; "but Ihave a request to make you," and he looked at the pair of baysthat were drawing up to the front door.

　　"What is this?"

　　"This is a letter from aunt to you," said Nekhludoff, handing hera narrow envelope, with a large crest. "You'll find all about itin there."

　　"I know Countess Katerina Ivanovna thinks I have some influencewith my husband in business matters. She is mistaken. I can donothing and do not like to interfere. But, of course, for you Iam willing to be false to my principle. What is this businessabout?" she said, searching in vain for her pocket with herlittle black gloved hand.

　　"There is a girl imprisoned in the fortress, and she is ill andinnocent."

　　"What is her name?"

　　"Lydia Shoustova. It's in the note."

　　"All right; I'll see what I can do," she said, and lightly jumpedinto her little, softly upholstered, open carriage, itsbrightly-varnished splash-guards glistening in the sunshine, andopened her parasol. The footman got on the box and gave thecoachman a sign. The carriage moved, but at that moment shetouched the coachman with her parasol and the slim-leggedbeauties, the bay mares, stopped, bending their beautiful necksand stepping from foot to foot.

　　"But you must come, only, please, without interested motives,"and she looked at him with a smile, the force of which she wellknew, and, as if the performance over and she were drawing thecurtain, she dropped the veil over her face again. "All right,"and she again touched the coachman.

　　Nekhludoff raised his hat, and the well-bred bays, slightlysnorting, set off, their shoes clattering on the pavement, andthe carriage rolled quickly and smoothly on its new rubber tyres,giving a jump only now and then over some unevenness of the road.

　　CHAPTER XVI.

　　AN UP-TO-DATE SENATOR.

　　When Nekhludoff remembered the smiles that had passed between himand Mariette, he shook his head.

　　"You have hardly time to turn round before you are again drawninto this life," he thought, feeling that discord and thosedoubts which the necessity to curry favour from people he did notesteem caused.

　　After considering where to go first, so as not to have to retracehis steps, Nekhludoff set off for the Senate. There he was showninto the office where he found a great many very polite and veryclean officials in the midst of a magnificent apartment.Maslova's petition was received and handed on to that Wolf, towhom Nekhludoff had a letter from his uncle, to be examined andreported on.

　　"There will be a meeting of the Senate this week," the officialsaid to Nekhludoff, "but Maslova's case will hardly come beforethat meeting."

　　"It might come before the meeting on Wednesday, by specialrequest," one of the officials remarked.

　　During the time Nekhludoff waited in the office, while someinformation was being taken, he heard that the conversation inthe Senate was all about the duel, and he heard a detailedaccount of how a young man, Kaminski, had been killed. It washere he first heard all the facts of the case which was excitingthe interest of all Petersburg. The story was this: Some officerswere eating oysters and, as usual, drinking very much, when oneof them said something ill-natured about the regiment to whichKaminski belonged, and Kaminski called him a liar. The other hitKaminski. The next day they fought. Kaminski was wounded in thestomach and died two hours later. The murderer and the secondswere arrested, but it was said that though they were arrested andin the guardhouse they would be set free in a fortnight.

　　From the Senate Nekhludoff drove to see an influential member ofthe petition Committee, Baron Vorobioff, who lived in a splendidhouse belonging to the Crown. The doorkeeper told Nekhludoff in asevere tone that the Baron could not be seen except on hisreception days; that he was with His Majesty the Emperor to-day,and the next day he would again have to deliver a report.Nekhludoff left his uncle's letter with the doorkeeper and wenton to see the Senator Wolf. Wolf had just had his lunch, and wasas usual helping digestion by smoking a cigar and pacing up anddown the room, when Nekhludoff came in. Vladimir VasilievitchWolf was certainly un homme tres comme il faut, and prized thisquality very highly, and from that elevation he looked down ateverybody else. He could not but esteem this quality of his veryhighly, because it was thanks to it alone that he had made abrilliant career, the very career he desired, i.e., by marriagehe obtained a fortune which brought him in 18,000 roubles a year,and by his own exertions the post of a senator. He consideredhimself not only un homme tres comme il faut, but also a man ofknightly honour. By honour he understood not accepting secretbribes from private persons. But he did not consider it dishonestto beg money for payment of fares and all sorts of travellingexpenses from the Crown, and to do anything the Government mightrequire of him in return. To ruin hundreds of innocent people, tocause them to be imprisoned, to be exiled because of their lovefor their people and the religion of their fathers, as he haddone in one of the governments of Poland when he was governorthere. He did not consider it dishonourable, but even thought ita noble, manly and patriotic action. Nor did he consider itdishonest to rob his wife and sister-in-law, as he had done, butthought it a wise way of arranging his family life. His familyconsisted of his commonplace wife, his sister-in-law, whosefortune he had appropriated by selling her estate and putting themoney to his account, and his meek, frightened, plain daughter,who lived a lonely, weary life, from which she had lately begunto look for relaxation in evangelicism, attending meetings atAline's, and the Countess Katerina Ivanovna. Wolf's son, who hadgrown a beard at the age of 15, and had at that age begun todrink and lead a depraved life, which he continued to do till theage of 20, when he was turned out by his father because he neverfinished his studies, moved in a low set and made debts whichcommitted the father. The father had once paid a debt of 250roubles for his son, then another of 600 roubles, but warned theson that he did it for the last time, and that if the son did notreform he would be turned out of the house and all furtherintercourse between him and his family would he put a stop to.The son did not reform, but made a debt of a thousand roubles,and took the liberty of telling his father that life at home wasa torment anyhow. Then Wolf declared to his son that he might gowhere he pleased--that he was no son of his any longer. Sincethen Wolf pretended he had no son, and no one at home dared speakto him about his son, and Vladimir Vasilievitch Wolf was firmlyconvinced that he had arranged his family life in the best way.Wolf stopped pacing up and down his study, and greeted Nekhludoffwith a friendly though slightly ironical smile. This was his wayof showing how comme il faut he was, and how superior to themajority of men. He read the note which Nekhludoff handed to him.

　　"Please take a seat, and excuse me if I continue to walk up anddown, with your permission," he said, putting his hands into hiscoat pockets, and began again to walk with light, soft stepsacross his large, quietly and stylishly furnished study. "Verypleased to make your acquaintance and of course very glad to doanything that Count Ivan Michaelovitch wishes," he said, blowingthe fragrant blue smoke out of his mouth and removing his cigarcarefully so as not to drop the ash.

　　"I should only like to ask that the case might come on soon, sothat if the prisoner has to go to Siberia she might set offearly," said Nekhludoff.

　　"Yes, yes, with one of the first steamers from Nijni. I know,"said Wolf, with his patronising smile, always knowing in advancewhatever one wanted to tell him.

　　"What is the prisoner's name?"

　　"Maslova."

　　Wolf went up to the table and looked at a paper that lay on apiece of cardboard among other business papers.

　　"Yes, yes. Maslova. All right, I will ask the others. We shallhear the case on Wednesday."

　　"Then may I telegraph to the advocate?"

　　"The advocate! What's that for? But if you like, why not?"

　　"The causes for appeal may be insufficient," said Nekhludoff,"but I think the case will show that the sentence was passedowing to a misunderstanding."

　　"Yes, yes; it may be so, but the Senate cannot decide the case onits merits," said Wolf, looking seriously at the ash of hiscigar. "The Senate only considers the exactness of theapplication of the laws and their right interpretation."

　　"But this seems to me to be an exceptional case."

　　"I know, I know! All cases are exceptional. We shall do our duty.That's all." The ash was still holding on, but had beganbreaking, and was in danger of falling.

　　"Do you often come to Petersburg?" said Wolf, holding his cigarso that the ash should not fall. But the ash began to shake, andWolf carefully carried it to the ashpan, into which it fell.

　　"What a terrible thing this is with regard to Kaminski," he said."A splendid young man. The only son. Especially the mother'sposition," he went on, repeating almost word for word what everyone in Petersburg was at that time saying about Kaminski. Wolfspoke a little about the Countess Katerina Ivanovna and herenthusiasm for the new religious teaching, which he neitherapproved nor disapproved of, but which was evidently needless tohim who was so comme il faut, and then rang the bell.

　　Nekhludoff bowed.

　　"If it is convenient, come and dine on Wednesday, and I will giveyou a decisive answer," said Wolf, extending his hand.

　　It was late, and Nekhludoff returned to his aunt's.

　　CHAPTER XVII.

　　COUNTESS KATERINA IVANOVNA'S DINNER PARTY.

　　Countess Katerina Ivanovna's dinner hour was half-past seven, andthe dinner was served in a new manner that Nekhludoff had not yetseen anywhere. After they had placed the dishes on the table thewaiters left the room and the diners helped themselves. The menwould not let the ladies take the trouble of moving, and, asbefitted the stronger sex, they manfully took on themselves theburden of putting the food on the ladies' plates and of fillingtheir glasses. When one course was finished, the Countess pressedthe button of an electric bell fitted to the table and thewaiters stepped in noiselessly and quickly carried away thedishes, changed the plates, and brought in the next course. Thedinner was very refined, the wines very costly. A French chef wasworking in the large, light kitchens, with two white-cladassistants. There were six persons at dinner, the Count andCountess, their son (a surly officer in the Guards who sat withhis elbows on the table), Nekhludoff, a French lady reader, andthe Count's chief steward, who had come up from the country.Here, too, the conversation was about the duel, and opinions weregiven as to how the Emperor regarded the case. It was known thatthe Emperor was very much grieved for the mother's sake, and allwere grieved for her, and as it was also known that the Emperordid not mean to be very severe to the murderer, who defended thehonour of his uniform, all were also lenient to the officer whohad defended the honour of his uniform. Only the CountessKaterina Ivanovna, with her free thoughtlessness, expresses herdisapproval.

　　"They get drunk, and kill unobjectionable young men. I should notforgive them on any account," she said.

　　"Now, that's a thing I cannot understand," said the Count.

　　"I know that you never can understand what I say," the Countessbegan, and turning to Nekhludoff, she added:

　　"Everybody understands except my husband. I say I am sorry forthe mother, and I do not wish him to be contented, having killeda man." Then her son, who had been silent up to then, took themurderer's part, and rudely attacked his mother, arguing that anofficer could not behave in any other way, because hisfellow-officers would condemn him and turn him out of theregiment. Nekhludoff listened to the conversation without joiningin. Having been an officer himself, he understood, though he didnot agree with, young Tcharsky's arguments, and at the same timehe could not help contrasting the fate of the officer with thatof a beautiful young convict whom he had seen in the prison, andwho was condemned to the mines for having killed another in afight. Both had turned murderers through drunkenness. The peasanthad killed a man in a moment of irritation, and he was partedfrom his wife and family, had chains on his legs, and his headshaved, and was going to hard labour in Siberia, while theofficer was sitting in a fine room in the guardhouse, eating agood dinner, drinking good wine, and reading books, and would beset free in a day or two to live as he had done before, havingonly become more interesting by the affair. Nekhludoff said whathe had been thinking, and at first his aunt, Katerina Ivanovna,seemed to agree with him, but at last she became silent as therest had done, and Nekhludoff felt that he had committedsomething akin to an impropriety. In the evening, soon afterdinner, the large hall, with high-backed carved chairs arrangedin rows as for a meeting, and an armchair next to a little table,with a bottle of water for the speaker, began to fill with peoplecome to hear the foreigner, Kiesewetter, preach. Elegantequipages stopped at the front entrance. In the hall satrichly-dressed ladies in silks and velvets and lace, with falsehair and false busts and drawn-in waists, and among them men inuniform and evening dress, and about five persons of the commonclass, i.e., two men-servants, a shop-keeper, a footman, and acoachman. Kiesewetter, a thick-set, grisly man, spoke English,and a thin young girl, with a pince-nez, translated it intoRussian promptly and well. He was saying that our sins were sogreat, the punishment for them so great and so unavoidable, thatit was impossible to live anticipating such punishment. "Belovedbrothers and sisters, let us for a moment consider what we aredoing, how we are living, how we have offended against theall-loving Lord, and how we make Christ suffer, and we cannot butunderstand that there is no forgiveness possible for us, noescape possible, that we are all doomed to perish. A terriblefate awaits us---everlasting torment," he said, with tears in histrembling voice. "Oh, how can we be saved, brothers? How can webe saved from this terrible, unquenchable fire? The house is inflames; there is no escape."

　　He was silent for a while, and real tears flowed down his cheeks.It was for about eight years that each time when he got to thispart of his speech, which he himself liked so well, he felt achoking in his throat and an irritation in his nose, and thetears came in his eyes, and these tears touched him still more.Sobs were heard in the room. The Countess Katerina Ivanovna satwith her elbows on an inlaid table, leaning her head on herhands, and her shoulders were shaking. The coachman looked withfear and surprise at the foreigner, feeling as if he was about torun him down with the pole of his carriage and the foreignerwould not move out of his way. All sat in positions similar tothat Katerina Ivanovna had assumed. Wolf's daughter, a thin,fashionably-dressed girl, very like her father, knelt with herface in her hands.

　　The orator suddenly uncovered his face, and smiled a veryreal-looking smile, such as actors express joy with, and beganagain with a sweet, gentle voice:

　　"Yet there is a way to be saved. Here it is--a joyful, easy way.The salvation is the blood shed for us by the only son of God,who gave himself up to torments for our sake. His sufferings, Hisblood, will save us. Brothers and sisters," he said, again withtears in his voice, "let us praise the Lord, who has given Hisonly begotten son for the redemption of mankind. His holy blood. . ."

　　Nekhludoff felt so deeply disgusted that he rose silently, andfrowning and keeping back a groan of shame, he left on tiptoe,and went to his room.

　　CHAPTER XVIII.

　　OFFICIALDOM.

　　Hardly had Nekhludoff finished dressing the next morning, just ashe was about to go down, the footman brought him a card from theMoscow advocate. The advocate had come to St. Petersburg onbusiness of his own, and was going to be present when Maslova'scase was examined in the Senate, if that would be soon. Thetelegram sent by Nekhludoff crossed him on the way. Having foundout from Nekhludoff when the case was going to be heard, andwhich senators were to be present, he smiled. "Exactly, all thethree types of senators," he said. "Wolf is a Petersburgofficial; Skovorodnikoff is a theoretical, and Bay a practicallawyer, and therefore the most alive of them all," said theadvocate. "There is most hope of him. Well, and how about thePetition Committee?"

　　"Oh, I'm going to Baron Vorobioff to-day. I could not get anaudience with him yesterday.

　　"Do you know why he is BARON Vorobioff?" said the advocate,noticing the slightly ironical stress that Nekhludoff put on thisforeign title, followed by so very Russian a surname.

　　"That was because the Emperor Paul rewarded the grandfather--Ithink he was one of the Court footmen--by giving him this title.He managed to please him in some way, so he made him a baron.'It's my wish, so don't gainsay me!' And so there's a BARONVorobioff, and very proud of the title. He is a dreadful oldhumbug."

　　Well, I'm going to see him," said Nekhludoff.

　　"That's good; we can go together. I shall give you a lift."

　　As they were going to start, a footman met Nekhludoff in theante-room, and handed him a note from Mariette:

　　Pour vous faire plaisir, f'ai agi tout a fait contre mesprincipes et j'ai intercede aupres de mon mari pour votreprotegee. II se trouve que cette personne pout etre relaxeeimmediatement. Mon mari a ecrit au commandant. Venez doncdisinterestedly. Je vous attends.

　　M.

　　"Just fancy!" said Nekhludoff to the advocate. "Is this notdreadful? A woman whom they are keeping in solitary confinementfor seven months turns out to be quite innocent, and only a wordwas needed to get her released."

　　"That's always so. Well, anyhow, you have succeeded in gettingwhat you wanted."

　　"Yes, but this success grieves me. Just think what must be goingon there. Why have they been keeping her?"

　　"Oh, it's best not to look too deeply into it. Well, then, Ishall give you a lift, if I may," said the advocate, as they leftthe house, and a fine carriage that the advocate had hired droveup to the door. "It's Baron Vorobioff you are going to see?"

　　The advocate gave the driver his directions, and the two goodhorses quickly brought Nekhludoff to the house in which the Baronlived. The Baron was at home. A young official in uniform, with along, thin neck, a much protruding Adam's apple, and an extremelylight walk, and two ladies were in the first room.

　　"Your name, please?" the young man with the Adam's apple asked,stepping with extreme lightness and grace across from the ladiesto Nekhludoff.

　　Nekhludoff gave his name.

　　"The Baron was just mentioning you," said the young man, theBaron's adjutant, and went out through an inner door. Hereturned, leading a weeping lady dressed in mourning. With herbony fingers the lady was trying to pull her tangled veil overher face in order to hide her tears.

　　"Come in, please," said the young man to Nekhludoff, lightlystepping up to the door of the study and holding it open. WhenNekhludoff came in, he saw before him a thick-set man of mediumheight, with short hair, in a frock coat, who was sitting in anarmchair opposite a large writing-table, and looking gaily infront of himself. The kindly, rosy red face, striking by itscontrast with the white hair, moustaches, and beard, turnedtowards Nekhludoff with a friendly smile.

　　"Very glad to see you. Your mother and I were old acquaintancesand friends. I have seen you as a boy, and later on as anofficer. Sit down and tell me what I can do for you. Yes, yes,"he said, shaking his cropped white head, while Nekhludoff wastelling him Theodosia's story. "Go on, go on. I quite understand.It is certainly very touching. And have you handed in thepetition?"

　　"I have got the petition ready," Nekhludoff said, getting it outof his pocket; "but I thought of speaking to you first in hopesthat the case would then get special attention paid to it."

　　"You have done very well. I shall certainly report it myself,"said the Baron, unsuccessfully trying to put an expression ofpity on his merry face. "Very touching! It is clear she was but achild; the husband treated her roughly, this repelled her, but astime went on they fell in love with each other. Yes I will reportthe case."

　　"Count Ivan Michaelovitch was also going to speak about it."

　　Nekhludoff had hardly got these words out when the Baron's facechanged.

　　"You had better hand in the petition into the office, after all,and I shall do what I can," he said.

　　At this moment the young official again entered the room,evidently showing off his elegant manner of walking.

　　"That lady is asking if she may say a few words more."

　　"Well, ask her in. Ah, mon cher, how many tears we have to seeshed! If only we could dry them all. One does all that lieswithin one's power."

　　The lady entered.

　　"I forgot to ask you that he should not be allowed to give up thedaughter, because he is ready . . ."

　　"But I have already told you that I should do all I can."

　　"Baron, for the love of God! You will save the mother?"

　　She seized his hand, and began kissing it.

　　"Everything shall be done."

　　When the lady went out Nekhludoff also began to take leave.

　　"We shall do what we can. I shall speak about it at the Ministryof Justice, and when we get their answer we shall do what wecan."

　　Nekhludoff left the study, and went into the office again. Justas in the Senate office, he saw, in a splendid apartment, anumber of very elegant officials, clean, polite, severely correctand distinguished in dress and in speech.

　　"How many there are of them; how very many and how well fed theyall look! And what clean shirts and hands they all have, and howwell all their boots are polished! Who does it for them? Howcomfortable they all are, as compared not only with theprisoners, but even with the peasants!" These thoughts againinvoluntarily came to Nekhludoff's mind.

　　CHAPTER XIX.

　　AN OLD GENERAL OF REPUTE.

　　The man on whom depended the easing of the fate of the Petersburgprisoners was an old General of repute--a baron of Germandescent, who, as it was said of him, had outlived his wits. Hehad received a profusion of orders, but only wore one of them,the Order of the White Cross. He had received this order, whichhe greatly valued, while serving in the Caucasus, because anumber of Russian peasants, with their hair cropped, and dressedin uniform and armed with guns and bayonets, had killed at hiscommand more than a thousand men who were defending theirliberty, their homes, and their families. Later on he served inPoland, and there also made Russian peasants commit manydifferent crimes, and got more orders and decorations for hisuniform. Then he served somewhere else, and now that he was aweak, old man he had this position, which insured him a goodhouse, an income and respect. He strictly observed all theregulations which were prescribed "from above," and was veryzealous in the fulfilment of these regulations, to which heascribed a special importance, considering that everything elsein the world might be changed except the regulations prescribed"from above." His duty was to keep political prisoners, men andwomen, in solitary confinement in such a way that half of themperished in 10 years' time, some going out of their minds, somedying of consumption, some committing suicide by starvingthemselves to death, cutting their veins with bits of glass,hanging, or burning themselves to death.

　　The old General was not ignorant of this; it all happened withinhis knowledge; but these cases no more touched his consciencethan accidents brought on by thunderstorms, floods, etc. Thesecases occurred as a consequence of the fulfilment of regulationsprescribed "from above" by His Imperial Majesty. Theseregulations had to be carried out without fail, and therefore itwas absolutely useless to think of the consequences of theirfulfilment. The old General did not even allow himself to thinkof such things, counting it his patriotic duty as a soldier notto think of them for fear of getting weak in the carrying out ofthese, according to his opinion, very important obligations. Oncea week the old General made the round of the cells, one of theduties of his position, and asked the prisoners if they had anyrequests to make. The prisoners had all sorts of requests. Helistened to them quietly, in impenetrable silence, and neverfulfilled any of their requests, because they were all indisaccord with the regulations. Just as Nekhludoff drove up tothe old General's house, the high notes of the bells on thebelfry clock chimed "Great is the Lord," and then struck two. Thesound of these chimes brought back to Nekhludoff's mind what hehad read in the notes of the Decembrists [the Decembrists were agroup who attempted, but failed, to put an end to absolutism inRussia at the time of the accession of Nicholas the First] aboutthe way this sweet music repeated every hour re-echoes in thehearts of those imprisoned for life.

　　Meanwhile the old General was sitting in his darkeneddrawing-room at an inlaid table, turning a saucer on a piece ofpaper with the aid of a young artist, the brother of one of hissubordinates. The thin, weak, moist fingers of the artist werepressed against the wrinkled and stiff-jointed fingers of the oldGeneral, and the hands joined in this manner were moving togetherwith the saucer over a paper that had all the letters of thealphabet written on it. The saucer was answering the questionsput by the General as to how souls will recognise each otherafter death.

　　When Nekhludoff sent in his card by an orderly acting as footman,the soul of Joan of Arc was speaking by the aid of the saucer.The soul of Joan of Arc had already spelt letter by letter thewords: "They well knew each other," and these words had beenwritten down. When the orderly came in the saucer had stoppedfirst on b, then on y, and began jerking hither and thither. Thisjerking was caused by the General's opinion that the next lettershould be b, i.e., Joan of Arc ought to say that the souls willknow each other by being cleansed of all that is earthly, orsomething of the kind, clashing with the opinion of the artist,who thought the next letter should be l, i.e., that the soulsshould know each other by light emanating from their astralbodies. The General, with his bushy grey eyebrows gravelycontracted, sat gazing at the hands on the saucer, and, imaginingthat it was moving of its own accord, kept pulling the saucertowards b. The pale-faced young artist, with his thin hair combedback behind his cars, was looking with his lifeless blue eyesinto a dark corner of the drawing-room, nervously moving his lipsand pulling the saucer towards l.

　　The General made a wry face at the interruption, but after amoment's pause he took the card, put on his pince-nez, and,uttering a groan, rose, in spite of the pain in his back, to hisfull height, rubbing his numb fingers.

　　"Ask him into the study."

　　"With your excellency's permission I will finish it alone," saidthe artist, rising. "I feel the presence."

　　"All right, finish alone," the General said, severely anddecidedly, and stepped quickly, with big, firm and measuredstrides, into his study.

　　"Very pleased to see you," said the General to Nekhludoff,uttering the friendly words in a gruff tone, and pointing to anarmchair by the side of the writing-table. "Have you been inPetersburg long?"

　　Nekhludoff replied that he had only lately arrived.

　　"Is the Princess, your mother, well?"

　　"My mother is dead."

　　"Forgive me; I am very sorry. My son told me he had met you."

　　The General's son was making the same kind of career for himselfthat the father had done, and, having passed the MilitaryAcademy, was now serving in the Inquiry Office, and was veryproud of his duties there. His occupation was the management ofGovernment spies.

　　"Why, I served with your father. We were friends--comrades. Andyou; are you also in the Service?"

　　"No, I am not."

　　The General bent his head disapprovingly.

　　"I have a request to make, General."

　　"Very pleased. In what way can I be of service to you?" If myrequest is out of place pray pardon me. But I am obliged to makeit."

　　"What is it?"

　　"There is a certain Gourkevitch imprisoned in the fortress; hismother asks for an interview with him, or at least to be allowedto send him some books."

　　The General expressed neither satisfaction nor dissatisfaction atNekhludoff's request, but bending his head on one side he closedhis eyes as if considering. In reality he was not consideringanything, and was not even interested in Nekhludoff's questions,well knowing that he would answer them according to the law. Hewas simply resting mentally and not thinking at all.

　　"You see," he said at last, "this does not depend on me. There isa regulation, confirmed by His Majesty, concerning interviews;and as to books, we have a library, and they may have what ispermitted."

　　"Yes, but he wants scientific books; he wishes to study."

　　"Don't you believe it," growled the General. "It's not study hewants; it is just only restlessness."

　　"But what is to be done? They must occupy their time somehow intheir hard condition," said Nekhludoff.

　　"They are always complaining," said the General. "We know them."

　　He spoke of them in a general way, as if they were all aspecially bad race of men. "They have conveniences here which canbe found in few places of confinement," said the General, and hebegan to enumerate the comforts the prisoners enjoyed, as if theaim of the institution was to give the people imprisoned there acomfortable home.

　　"It is true it used to be rather rough, but now they are verywell kept here," he continued. "They have three courses fordinner--and one of them meat--cutlets, or rissoles; and onSundays they get a fourth--a sweet dish. God grant every Russianmay eat as well as they do."

　　Like all old people, the General, having once got on to afamiliar topic, enumerated the various proofs he had often givenbefore of the prisoners being exacting and ungrateful.

　　"They get books on spiritual subjects and old journals. We have alibrary. Only they rarely read. At first they seem interested,later on the new books remain uncut, and the old ones with theirleaves unturned. We tried them," said the old General, with thedim likeness of a smile. "We put bits of paper in on purpose,which remained just as they had been placed. Writing is also notforbidden," he continued. "A slate is provided, and a slatepencil, so that they can write as a pastime. They can wipe theslate and write again. But they don't write, either. Oh, theyvery soon get quite tranquil. At first they seem restless, butlater on they even grow fat and become very quiet." Thus spokethe General, never suspecting the terrible meaning of his words.

　　Nekhludoff listened to the hoarse old voice, looked at the stifflimbs, the swollen eyelids under the grey brows, at the old,clean-shaved, flabby jaw, supported by the collar of the militaryuniform, at the white cross that this man was so proud of,chiefly because he had gained it by exceptionally cruel andextensive slaughter, and knew that it was useless to reply to theold man or to explain the meaning of his own words to him.

　　He made another effort, and asked about the prisoner Shoustova,for whose release, as he had been informed that morning, orderswere given.

　　"Shoustova--Shoustova? I cannot remember all their names, thereare so many of them," he said, as if reproaching them becausethere were so many. He rang, and ordered the secretary to becalled. While waiting for the latter, he began persuadingNekhludoff to serve, saying that "honest noblemen," countinghimself among the number, "were particularly needed by the Tsarand--the country," he added, evidently only to round off hissentence. "I am old, yet I am serving still, as well as mystrength allows."

　　The secretary, a dry, emaciated man, with restless, intelligenteyes, came in and reported that Shoustova was imprisoned in somequeer, fortified place, and that he had received no ordersconcerning her.

　　"When we get the order we shall let her out the same day. We donot keep them; we do not value their visits much," said theGeneral, with another attempt at a playful smile, which onlydistorted his old face.

　　Nekhludoff rose, trying to keep from expressing the mixedfeelings of repugnance and pity which he felt towards thisterrible old man. The old man on his part considered that heshould not be too severe on the thoughtless and evidentlymisguided son of his old comrade, and should not leave himwithout advice.

　　"Good-bye, my dear fellow; do not take it amiss. It is myaffection that makes me say it. Do not keep company with suchpeople as we have at our place here. There are no innocent onesamong them. All these people are most immoral. We know them," hesaid, in a tone that admitted no possibility of doubt. And he didnot doubt, not because the thing was so, but because if it wasnot so, he would have to admit himself to be not a noble heroliving out the last days of a good life, but a scoundrel, whosold, and still continued in his old age to sell, his conscience.

　　"Best of all, go and serve," he continued; "the Tsar needs honestmen--and the country," he added. "Well, supposing I and theothers refused to serve, as you are doing? Who would be left?Here we are, finding fault with the order of things, and yet notwishing to help the Government."

　　With a deep sigh Nekhludoff made a low bow, shook the large, bonyhand condescendingly stretched out to him and left the room.

　　The General shook his head reprovingly, and rubbing his back, heagain went into the drawing-room where the artist was waiting forhim. He had already written down the answer given by the soul ofJoan of Arc. The General put on his pince-nez and read, "Willknow one another by light emanating from their astral bodies."

　　"Ah," said the General, with approval, and closed his eyes. "Buthow is one to know if the light of all is alike?" he asked, andagain crossed fingers with the artist on the saucer.

　　The isvostchik drove Nekhludoff out of the gate.

　　It is dull here, sir, he said, turning to Nekhludoff. "I almostwished to drive off without waiting for you."

　　Nekhludoff agreed. "Yes, it is dull," and he took a deep breath,and looked up with a sense of relief at the grey clouds that werefloating in the sky, and at the glistening ripples made by theboats and steamers on the Neva.

　　CHAPTER XX.

　　MASLOVA'S APPEAL.

　　The next day Maslova's case was to be examined at the Senate, andNekhludoff and the advocate met at the majestic portal of thebuilding, where several carriages were waiting. Ascending themagnificent and imposing staircase to the first floor, theadvocate, who knew all the ins and outs of the place, turned tothe left and entered through a door which had the date of theintroduction of the Code of Laws above it.

　　After taking off his overcoat in the first narrow room, he foundout from the attendant that the Senators had all arrived, andthat the last had just come in. Fanarin, in his swallow-tailcoat, a white tie above the white shirt-front, and aself-confident smile on his lips, passed into the next room. Inthis room there were to the right a large cupboard and a table,and to the left a winding staircase, which an elegant official inuniform was descending with a portfolio under his arm. In thisroom an old man with long, white hair and a patriarchalappearance attracted every one's attention. He wore a short coatand grey trousers. Two attendants stood respectfully beside him.The old man with white hair entered the cupboard and shut himselfin.

　　Fanarin noticed a fellow-advocate dressed in the same way ashimself, with a white tie and dress coat, and at once enteredinto an animated conversation with him.

　　Nekhludoff was meanwhile examining the people in the room. Thepublic consisted of about 15 persons, of whom two were ladies--ayoung one with a pince-nez, and an old, grey-haired one.

　　A case of libel was to be heard that day, and therefore thepublic were more numerous than usual--chiefly persons belongingto the journalistic world.

　　The usher, a red-cheeked, handsome man in a fine uniform, came upto Fanarin and asked him what his business was. When he heardthat it was the case of Maslova, he noted something down andwalked away. Then the cupboard door opened and the old man withthe patriarchal appearance stepped out, no longer in a short coatbut in a gold-trimmed attire, which made him look like a bird,and with metal plates on his breast. This funny costume seemed tomake the old man himself feel uncomfortable, and, walking fasterthan his wont, he hurried out of the door opposite the entrance.

　　"That is Bay, a most estimable man," Fanarin said to Nekhludoff,and then having introduced him to his colleague, he explained thecase that was about to be heard, which he considered veryinteresting.

　　The hearing of the case soon commenced, and Nekhludoff, with thepublic, entered the left side of the Senate Chamber. They all,including Fanarin, took their places behind a grating. Only thePetersburg advocate went up to a desk in front of the grating.

　　The Senate Chamber was not so big as the Criminal Court; and wasmore simply furnished, only the table in front of the senatorswas covered with crimson, gold-trimmed velvet, instead of greencloth; but the attributes of all places of judgment, i.e., themirror of justice, the icon, the emblem of hypocrisy, and theEmperor's portrait, the emblem of servility, were there.

　　The usher announced, in the same solemn manner: "The Court iscoming." Every one rose in the same way, and the senators enteredin their uniforms and sat down on highbacked chairs and leant onthe table, trying to appear natural, just in the same way as thejudges in the Court of Law. There were four senatorspresent--Nikitin, who took the chair, a clean-shaved man with anarrow face and steely eyes; Wolf, with significantly compressedlips, and little white hands, with which he kept turning over thepages of the business papers; Skovorodnikoff, a heavy, fat,pockmarked man--the learned lawyer; and Bay, thepatriarchal-looking man who had arrived last.

　　With the advocates entered the chief secretary and publicprosecutor, a lean, clean-shaven young man of medium height, avery dark complexion, and sad, black eyes. Nekhludoff knew him atonce, in spite of his curious uniform and the fact that he hadnot seen him for six years. He had been one of his best friendsin Nekhludoff's student days.

　　"The public prosecutor Selenin?" Nekhludoff asked, turning to theadvocate.

　　"Yes. Why?"

　　"I know him well. He is a fine fellow."

　　"And a good public prosecutor; business-like. Now he is the manyou should have interested."

　　He will act according to his conscience in any case," saidNekhludoff, recalling the intimate relations and friendshipbetween himself and Selenin, and the attractive qualities of thelatter--purity, honesty, and good breeding in its best sense.

　　"Yes, there is no time now," whispered Fanarin, who waslistening to the report of the case that had commenced.

　　The Court of Justice was accused of having left a decision of theCourt of Law unaltered.

　　Nekhludoff listened and tried to make out the meaning of what wasgoing on; but, just as in the Criminal Court, his chiefdifficulty was that not the evidently chief point, but some sideissues, were being discussed. The case was that of a newspaperwhich had published the account of a swindle arranged by adirector of a limited liability company. It seemed that the onlyimportant question was whether the director of the company reallyabused his trust, and how to stop him from doing it. But thequestions under consideration were whether the editor had a rightto publish this article of his contributor, and what he had beenguilty of in publishing it: slander or libel, and in what wayslander included libel, or libel included slander, and somethingrather incomprehensible to ordinary people about all sorts ofstatutes and resolutions passed by some General Department.

　　The only thing clear to Nekhludoff was that, in spite of whatWolf had so strenuously insisted on, the day before, i.e., thatthe Senate could not try a case on its merits, in this case hewas evidently strongly in favour of repealing the decision of theCourt of Justice, and that Selenin, in spite of hischaracteristic reticence, stated the opposite opinion with quiteunexpected warmth. The warmth, which surprised Nekhludoff,evinced by the usually self-controlled Selenin, was due to hisknowledge of the director's shabbiness in money matters, and thefact, which had accidentally come to his cars, that Wolf had beento a swell dinner party at the swindler's house only a few daysbefore.

　　Now that Wolf spoke on the case, guardedly enough, but withevident bias, Selenin became excited, and expressed his opinionwith too much nervous irritation for an ordinary businesstransaction.

　　It was clear that Selenin's speech had offended Wolf. He grewred, moved in his chair, made silent gestures of surprise, and atlast rose, with a very dignified and injured look, together withthe other senators, and went out into the debating-room.

　　"What particular case have you come about?" the usher askedagain, addressing Fanarin.

　　"I have already told you: Maslova's case."

　　"Yes, quite so. It is to be heard to-day, but--"

　　"But what?" the advocate asked.

　　"Well, you see, this case was to be examined without takingsides, so that the senators will hardly come out again afterpassing the resolution. But I will inform them."

　　"What do you mean?"

　　"I'll inform them; I'll inform them." And the usher again putsomething down on his paper.

　　The Senators really meant to pronounce their decision concerningthe libel case, and then to finish the other business, Maslova'scase among it, over their tea and cigarettes, without leaving thedebating-room.

　　CHAPTER XXI.

　　THE APPEAL DISMISSED.

　　As soon as the Senators were seated round the table in thedebating-room, Wolf began to bring forward with great animationall the motives in favour of a repeal. The chairman, anill-natured man at best, was in a particularly bad humour thatday. His thoughts were concentrated on the words he had writtendown in his memoranda on the occasion when not he but Viglanoffwas appointed to the important post he had long coveted. It wasthe chairman, Nikitin's, honest conviction that his opinions ofthe officials of the two upper classes with which he was inconnection would furnish valuable material for the historians. Hehad written a chapter the day before in which the officials ofthe upper classes got it hot for preventing him, as he expressedit, from averting the ruin towards which the present rulers ofRussia were driving it, which simply meant that they had preventedhis getting a better salary. And now he was considering what anew light to posterity this chapter would shed on events.

　　"Yes, certainly," he said, in reply to the words addressed to himby Wolf, without listening to them.

　　Bay was listening to Wolf with a sad face and drawing a garlandon the paper that lay before him. Bay was a Liberal of the veryfirst water. He held sacred the Liberal traditions of the sixthdecade of this century, and if he ever overstepped the limits ofstrict neutrality it was always in the direction of Liberalism.So in this case; beside the fact that the swindling director, whowas prosecuting for libel, was a bad lot, the prosecution of ajournalist for libel in itself tending, as it did, to restrictthe freedom of the press, inclined Bay to reject the appeal.

　　When Wolf concluded his arguments Bay stopped drawing his garlandand began in a sad and gentle voice (he was sad because he wasobliged to demonstrate such truisms) concisely, simply andconvincingly to show how unfounded the accusation was, and then,bending his white head, he continued drawing his garland.

　　Skovorodnikoff, who sat opposite Wolf, and, with his fat fingers,kept shoving his beard and moustaches into his mouth, stoppedchewing his beard as soon as Bay was silent, and said with aloud, grating voice, that, notwithstanding the fact of thedirector being a terrible scoundrel, he would have been for therepeal of the sentence if there were any legal reasons for it;but, as there were none, he was of Bay's opinion. He was glad toput this spoke in Wolf's wheel.

　　The chairman agreed with Skovorodnikoff, and the appeal wasrejected.

　　Wolf was dissatisfied, especially because it was like beingcaught acting with dishonest partiality; so he pretended to beindifferent, and, unfolding the document which containedMaslova's case, he became engrossed in it. Meanwhile the Senatorsrang and ordered tea, and began talking about the event that,together with the duel, was occupying the Petersburgers.

　　It was the case of the chief of a Government department, who wasaccused of the crime provided for in Statute 995.

　　"What nastiness," said Bay, with disgust.

　　"Why; where is the harm of it? I can show you a Russian bookcontaining the project of a German writer, who openly proposesthat it should not be considered a crime," said Skovorodnikoff,drawing in greedily the fumes of the crumpled cigarette, which heheld between his fingers close to the palm, and he laughedboisterously.

　　"Impossible!" said Bay.

　　I shall show it you," said Skovorodnikoff, giving the full titleof the book, and even its date and the name of its editor.

　　"I hear he has been appointed governor to some town in Siberia."

　　"That's fine. The archdeacon will meet him with a crucifix. Theyought to appoint an archdeacon of the same sort," saidSkovorodnikoff. "I could recommend them one," and he threw theend of his cigarette into his saucer, and again shoved as much ofhis beard and moustaches as he could into his mouth and beganchewing them.

　　The usher came in and reported the advocate's and Nekhludoff'sdesire to be present at the examination of Maslova's case.

　　"This case," Wolf said, "is quite romantic," and he told themwhat he knew about Nekhludoff's relations with Maslova. When theyhad spoken a little about it and finished their tea andcigarettes, the Senators returned into the Senate Chamber andproclaimed their decision in the libel case, and began to hearMaslova's case.

　　Wolf, in his thin voice, reported Maslova's appeal very fully,but again not without some bias and an evident wish for therepeal of the sentence.

　　"Have you anything to add?" the chairman said, turning toFanarin. Fanarin rose, and standing with his broad white chestexpanded, proved point by point, with wonderful exactness andpersuasiveness, how the Court had in six points strayed from theexact meaning of the law; and besides this he touched, thoughbriefly, on the merits of the case, and on the crying injusticeof the sentence. The tone of his speech was one of apology to theSenators, who, with their penetration and judicial wisdom, couldnot help seeing and understanding it all better than he could. Hewas obliged to speak only because the duty he had undertakenforced him to do so.

　　After Fanarin's speech one might have thought that there couldnot remain the least doubt that the Senate ought to repeal thedecision of the Court. When he had finished his speech, Fanarinlooked round with a smile of triumph, seeing which Nekhludofffelt certain that the case was won. But when he looked at theSenators he saw that Fanarin smiled and triumphed all alone. TheSenators and the Public Prosecutor did not smile nor triumph, butlooked like people wearied, and who were thinking "We have oftenheard the like of you; it is all in vain," and were only too gladwhen he stopped and ceased uselessly detaining them there.Immediately after the end of the advocate's speech the chairmanturned to the Public Prosecutor. Selenin briefly and clearlyexpressed himself in favour of leaving the decision of the Courtunaltered, as he considered all the reasons for appealinginadequate. After this the Senators went out into thedebating-room. They were divided in their opinions. Wolf was infavour of altering the decision. Bay, when he had understood thecase, took up the same side with fervour, vividly presenting thescene at the court to his companions as he clearly saw ithimself. Nikitin, who always was on the side of severity andformality, took up the other side. All depended onSkovorodnikoff's vote, and he voted for rejecting the appeal,because Nekhludoff's determination to marry the woman on moralgrounds was extremely repugnant to him.

　　Skovorodnikoff was a materialist, a Darwinian, and counted everymanifestation of abstract morality, or, worse still, religion,not only as a despicable folly, but as a personal affront tohimself. All this bother about a prostitute, and the presence ofa celebrated advocate and Nekhludoff in the Senate were in thehighest degree repugnant to him. So he shoved his beard into hismouth and made faces, and very skilfully pretended to knownothing of this case, excepting that the reasons for an appealwere insufficient, and that he, therefore, agreed with thechairman to leave the decision of the Court unaltered.

　　So the sentence remained unrepealed.

　　CHAPTER XXII.

　　AN OLD FRIEND.

　　"Terrible," said Nekhludoff, as he went out into the waiting-roomwith the advocate, who was arranging the papers in his portfolio."In a matter which is perfectly clear they attach all theimportance to the form and reject the appeal. Terrible!"

　　"The case was spoiled in the Criminal Court," said the advocate.

　　"And Selenin, too, was in favour of the rejection. Terrible!terrible!" Nekhludoff repeated. "What is to be done now?"

　　"We will appeal to His Majesty, and you can hand in the petitionyourself while you are here. I will write it for you."

　　At this moment little Wolf, with his stars and uniform, came outinto the waiting-room and approached Nekhludoff. "It could not behelped, dear Prince. The reasons for an appeal were notsufficient," he said, shrugging his narrow shoulders and closinghis eyes, and then he went his way.

　　After Wolf, Selenin came out too, having heard from the Senatorsthat his old friend Nekhludoff was there.

　　"Well, I never expected to see you here," he said, coming up toNekhludoff, and smiling only with his lips while his eyesremained sad. "I did not know you were in Petersburg."

　　"And I did not know you were Public Prosecutor-in-Chief."

　　"How is it you are in the Senate?" asked Selenin. "I had heard,by the way, that you were in Petersburg. But what are you doinghere?"

　　"Here? I am here because I hoped to find justice and save a womaninnocently condemned."

　　"What woman?"

　　"The one whose case has just been decided."

　　"Oh! Maslova's case," said Selenin, suddenly remembering it. "Theappeal had no grounds whatever."

　　"It is not the appeal; it's the woman who is innocent, and isbeing punished."

　　Selenin sighed. "That may well be, but----'

　　"Not MAY BE, but is."

　　"How do you know?"

　　"Because I was on the jury. I know how we made the mistake."

　　"Selenin became thoughtful. "You should have made a statement atthe time," he said.

　　"I did make the statement."

　　"It should have been put down in an official report. If this hadbeen added to the petition for the appeal--"

　　"Yes, but still, as it is, the verdict is evidently absurd."

　　"The Senate has no right to say so. If the Senate took uponitself to repeal the decision of the law courts according to itsown views as to the justice of the decisions in themselves, theverdict of the jury would lose all its meaning, not to mentionthat the Senate would have no basis to go upon, and would run therisk of infringing justice rather than upholding it," saidSelenin, calling to mind the case that had just been heard.

　　"All I know is that this woman is quite innocent, and that thelast hope of saying her from an unmerited punishment is gone. Thegrossest injustice has been confirmed by the highest court."

　　"It has not been confirmed. The Senate did not and cannot enterinto the merits of the case in itself," said Selenin. Always busyand rarely going out into society, he had evidently heard nothingof Nekhludoff's romance. Nekhludoff noticed it, and made up hismind that it was best to say nothing about his special relationswith Maslova.

　　"You are probably staying with your aunt," Selenin remarked,apparently wishing to change the subject. "She told me you werehere yesterday, and she invited me to meet you in the evening,when some foreign preacher was to lecture," and Selenin againsmiled only with his lips.

　　"Yes, I was there, but left in disgust," said Nekhludoff angrily,vexed that Selenin had changed the subject.

　　"Why with disgust? After all, it is a manifestation of religiousfeeling, though one-sided and sectarian," said Selenin.

　　"Why, it's only some kind of whimsical folly."

　　"Oh, dear, no. The curious thing is that we know the teaching ofour church so little that we see some new kind of revelation inwhat are, after all, our own fundamental dogmas," said Selenin,as if hurrying to let his old friend know his new views.

　　Nekhludoff looked at Selenin scrutinisingly and with surprise,and Selenin dropped his eyes, in which appeared an expression notonly of sadness but also of ill-will.

　　"Do you, then, believe in the dogmas of the church?" Nekhludoffasked.

　　"Of course I do," replied Selenin, gazing straight intoNekhludoff's eyes with a lifeless look.

　　Nekhludoff sighed. "It is strange," he said.

　　"However, we shall have a talk some other time," said Selenin."I am coming," he added, in answer to the usher, who hadrespectfully approached him. "Yes, we must meet again," he wenton with a sigh. "But will it be possible for me to find you? Youwill always find me in at seven o'clock. My address isNadejdinskaya," and he gave the number. "Ah, time does not standstill," and he turned to go, smiling only with his lips.

　　"I will come if I can," said Nekhludoff, feeling that a man oncenear and dear to him had, by this brief conversation, suddenlybecome strange, distant, and incomprehensible, if not hostile tohim.

　　CHAPTER XXIII.

　　THE PUBLIC PROSECUTOR.

　　When Nekhludoff knew Selenin as a student, he was a good son, atrue friend, and for his years an educated man of the world, withmuch tact; elegant, handsome, and at the same time truthful andhonest. He learned well, without much exertion and with nopedantry, receiving gold medals for his essays. He considered theservice of mankind, not only in words but in acts, to be the aimof his young life. He saw no other way of being useful tohumanity than by serving the State. Therefore, as soon as he hadcompleted his studies, he systematically examined all theactivities to which he might devote his life, and decided toenter the Second Department of the Chancellerie, where the lawsare drawn up, and he did so. But, in spite of the most scrupulousand exact discharge of the duties demanded of him, this servicegave no satisfaction to his desire of being useful, nor could heawake in himself the consciousness that he was doing "the rightthing."

　　This dissatisfaction was so much increased by the friction withhis very small-minded and vain fellow officials that he left theChancellerie and entered the Senate. It was better there, but thesame dissatisfaction still pursued him; he felt it to be verydifferent from what he had expected, and from what ought to be.

　　And now that he was in the Senate his relatives obtained for himthe post of Gentleman of the Bedchamber, and he had to go in acarriage, dressed in an embroidered uniform and a white linenapron, to thank all sorts of people for having placed him in theposition of a lackey. However much he tried he could find noreasonable explanation for the existence of this post, and felt,more than in the Senate, that it was not "the right thing," andyet he could not refuse it for fear of hurting those who feltsure they were giving him much pleasure by this appointment, andbecause it flattered the lowest part of his nature. It pleasedhim to see himself in a mirror in his gold-embroidered uniform,and to accept the deference paid him by some people because ofhis position.

　　Something of the same kind happened when he married. A verybrilliant match, from a worldly point of view, was arranged forhim, and he married chiefly because by refusing he would have hadto hurt the young lady who wished to be married to him, and thosewho arranged the marriage, and also because a marriage with anice young girl of noble birth flattered his vanity and gave himpleasure. But this marriage very soon proved to be even less "theright thing" than the Government service and his position atCourt.

　　After the birth of her first child the wife decided to have nomore, and began leading that luxurious worldly life in which henow had to participate whether he liked or not.

　　She was not particularly handsome, and was faithful to him, andshe seemed, in spite of all the efforts it cost her, to derivenothing but weariness from the life she led, yet sheperseveringly continued to live it, though it was poisoning herhusband's life. And all his efforts to alter this life wasshattered, as against a stone wall, by her conviction, which allher friends and relatives supported, that all was as it shouldbe.

　　The child, a little girl with bare legs and long golden curls,was a being perfectly foreign to him, chiefly because she wastrained quite otherwise than he wished her to be. There sprung upbetween the husband and wife the usual misunderstanding, withouteven the wish to understand each other, and then a silentwarfare, hidden from outsiders and tempered by decorum. All thismade his life at home a burden, and became even less "the rightthing" than his service and his post.

　　But it was above all his attitude towards religion which was not"the right thing." Like every one of his set and his time, by thegrowth of his reason he broke without the least effort the netsof the religious superstitions in which he was brought up, anddid not himself exactly know when it was that he freed himself ofthem. Being earnest and upright, he did not, during his youth andintimacy with Nekhludoff as a student, conceal his rejection ofthe State religion. But as years went on and he rose in theservice, and especially at the time of the reaction towardsconservatism in society, his spiritual freedom stood in his way.

　　At home, when his father died, he had to be present at the massessaid for his soul, and his mother wished him to go to confessionor to communion, and it was in a way expected, by public opinion,but above all, Government service demanded that he should bepresent at all sorts of services, consecrations, thanksgivings,and the like. Hardly a day passed without some outward religiousform having to be observed.

　　When present at these services he had to pretend that he believedin something which he did not believe in, and being truthful hecould not do this. The alternative was, having made up his mindthat all these outward signs were deceitful, to alter his life insuch a way that he would not have to be present at suchceremonials. But to do what seemed so simple would have cost agreat deal. Besides encountering the perpetual hostility of allthose who were near to him, he would have to give up the serviceand his position, and sacrifice his hopes of being useful tohumanity by his service, now and in the future. To make such asacrifice one would have to be firmly convinced of being right.

　　And he was firmly convinced he was right, as no educated man ofour time can help being convinced who knows a little history andhow the religions, and especially Church Christianity,originated.

　　But under the stress of his daily life he, a truthful man,allowed a little falsehood to creep in. He said that in order todo justice to an unreasonable thing one had to study theunreasonable thing. It was a little falsehood, but it sunk himinto the big falsehood in which he was now caught.

　　Before putting to himself the question whether the orthodoxy inwhich he was born and bred, and which every one expected him toaccept, and without which he could not continue his usefuloccupation, contained the truth, he had already decided theanswer. And to clear up the question he did not read Voltaire,Schopenhauer, Herbert Spencer, or Comte, but the philosophicalworks of Hegel and the religious works of Vinet and Khomyakoff,and naturally found in them what he wanted, i.e., something likepeace of mind and a vindication of that religious teaching inwhich he was educated, which his reason had long ceased toaccept, but without which his whole life was filled withunpleasantness which could all be removed by accepting theteaching.

　　And so he adopted all the usual sophistries which go to provethat a single human reason cannot know the truth, that the truthis only revealed to an association of men, and can only be knownby revelation, that revelation is kept by the church, etc. And sohe managed to be present at prayers, masses for the dead, toconfess, make signs of the cross in front of icons, with a quietmind, without being conscious of the lie, and to continue in theservice which gave him the feeling of being useful and somecomfort in his joyless family life. Although he believed this, hefelt with his entire being that this religion of his, more thanall else, was not "the right thing," and that is why his eyesalways looked sad.

　　And seeing Nekhludoff, whom he had known before all these lieshad rooted themselves within him, reminded him of what he thenwas. It was especially after he had hurried to hint at hisreligious views that he had most strongly felt all this "not theright thing," and had become painfully sad. Nekhludoff felt italso after the first joy of meeting his old friend had passed,and therefore, though they promised each other to meet, they didnot take any steps towards an interview, and did not again seeeach other during this stay of Nekhludoff's in Petersburg.

　　CHAPTER XXIV.

　　MARIETTE TEMPTS NEKHLUDOFF.

　　When they left the Senate, Nekhludoff and the advocate walked ontogether, the advocate having given the driver of his carriageorders to follow them. The advocate told Nekhludoff the story ofthe chief of a Government department, about whom the Senators hadbeen talking: how the thing was found out, and how the man, whoaccording to law should have been sent to the mines, had beenappointed Governor of a town in Siberia. Then he related withparticular pleasure how several high-placed persons stole a lotof money collected for the erection of the still unfinishedmonument which they had passed that morning; also, how themistress of So-and-so got a lot of money at the Stock Exchange,and how So-and-so agreed with So-and-so to sell him his wife. Theadvocate began another story about a swindle, and all sorts ofcrimes committed by persons in high places, who, instead of beingin prison, sat on presidential chairs in all sorts of Governmentinstitutions. These tales, of which the advocate seemed to havean unending supply, gave him much pleasure, showing as they did,with perfect clearness, that his means of getting money werequite just and innocent compared to the means which the highestofficials in Petersburg made use of. The advocate was thereforesurprised when Nekhludoff took an isvostchik before hearing theend of the story, said good-bye, and left him. Nekhludoff feltvery sad. It was chiefly the rejection of the appeal by theSenate, confirming the senseless torments that the innocentMaslova was enduring, that saddened him, and also the fact thatthis rejection made it still harder for him to unite his fatewith hers. The stories about existing evils, which the advocaterecounted with such relish, heightened his sadness, and so didthe cold, unkind look that the once sweet-natured, frank, nobleSelenin had given him, and which kept recurring to his mind.

　　On his return the doorkeeper handed him a note, and said, ratherscornfully, that some kind of woman had written it in the hall.It was a note from Shoustova's mother. She wrote that she hadcome to thank her daughter's benefactor and saviour, and toimplore him to come to see them on the Vasilievsky, Sth Line,house No. --. This was very necessary because of Vera Doukhova.He need not be afraid that they would weary him with expressionsof gratitude. They would not speak their gratitude, but be simplyglad to see him. Would he not come next morning, if he could?

　　There was another note from Bogotyreff, a former fellow-officer,aide-de-camp to the Emperor, whom Nekhludoff had asked to handpersonally to the Emperor his petition on behalf of thesectarians. Bogotyreff wrote, in his large, firm hand, that hewould put the petition into the Emperor's own hands, as he hadpromised; but that it had occurred to him that it might be betterfor Nekhludoff first to go and see the person on whom the matterdepended.

　　After the impressions received during the last few days,Nekhludoff felt perfectly hopeless of getting anything done. Theplans he had formed in Moscow seemed now something like thedreams of youth, which are inevitably followed by disillusionwhen life comes to be faced. Still, being now in Petersburg, heconsidered it his duty to do all he had intended, and he resolvednext day, after consulting Bogotyreff, to act on his advice andsee the person on whom the case of the sectarians depended.

　　He got out the sectarians' petition from his portfolio, and beganreading it over, when there was a knock at his door, and afootman came in with a message from the Countess KaterinaIvanovna, who asked him to come up and have a cup of tea withher.

　　Nekhludoff said he would come at once, and having put the papersback into the portfolio, he went up to his aunt's. He looked outof a window on his way, and saw Mariette's pair of bays standingin front of the house, and he suddenly brightened and feltinclined to smile.

　　Mariette, with a hat on her head, not in black but with a lightdress of many shades, sat with a cup in her hand beside theCountess's easy chair, prattling about something while herbeautiful, laughing eyes glistened. She had said somethingfunny--something indecently funny--just as Nekhludoff entered theroom. He knew it by the way she laughed, and by the way thegood-natured Countess Katerina Ivanovna's fat body was shakingwith laughter; while Mariette, her smiling mouth slightly drawnto one side, her head a little bent, a peculiarly mischievousexpression in her merry, energetic face, sat silently looking ather companion. From a few words which he overheard, Nekhludoffguessed that they were talking of the second piece of Petersburgnews, the episode of the Siberian Governor, and that it was inreference to this subject that Mariette had said something sofunny that the Countess could not control herself for a longtime.

　　"You will kill me," she said, coughing.

　　After saying "How d'you do?" Nekhludoff sat down. He was about tocensure Mariette in his mind for her levity when, noticing theserious and even slightly dissatisfied look in his eyes, shesuddenly, to please him, changed not only the expression of herface, but also the attitude of her mind; for she felt the wish toplease him as soon as she looked at him. She suddenly turnedserious, dissatisfied with her life, as if seeking and strivingafter something; it was not that she pretended, but she reallyreproduced in herself the very same state of mind that he was in,although it would have been impossible for her to express inwords what was the state of Nekhludoff's mind at that moment.

　　She asked him how he had accomplished his tasks. He told herabout his failure in the Senate and his meeting Selenin.

　　"Oh, what a pure soul! He is, indeed, a chevalier sans peur etsans reproche. A pure soul!" said both ladies, using the epithetcommonly applied to Selenin in Petersburg society.

　　"What is his wife like?" Nekhludoff asked.

　　"His wife? Well, I do not wish to judge, but she does notunderstand him."

　　"Is it possible that he, too, was for rejecting the appeal?Mariette asked with real sympathy. "It is dreadful. How sorry Iam for her," she added with a sigh.

　　He frowned, and in order to change the subject began to speakabout Shoustova, who had been imprisoned in the fortress and wasnow set free through the influence of Mariette's husband. Hethanked her for her trouble, and was going on to say how dreadfulhe thought it, that this woman and the whole of her family hadsuffered merely, because no one had reminded the authoritiesabout them, but Mariette interrupted him and expressed her ownindignation.

　　"Say nothing about it to me," she said. "When my husband told meshe could be set free, it was this that struck me, 'What was shekept in prison for if she is innocent?'" She went on expressingwhat Nekhludoff was about to say.

　　"It is revolting--revolting."

　　Countess Katerina Ivanovna noticed that Mariette was coquettingwith her nephew, and this amused her. "What do you think?" shesaid, when they were silent. "Supposing you come to Aline'sto-morrow night. Kiesewetter will be there. And you, too," shesaid, turning to Mariette. "Il vous a remarque," she went on toher nephew. "He told me that what you say (I repeated it all tohim) is a very good sign, and that you will certainly come toChrist. You must come absolutely. Tell him to, Mariette, and comeyourself."

　　"Countess, in the first place, I have no right whatever to giveany kind of advice to the Prince," said Mariette, and gaveNekhludoff a look that somehow established a full comprehensionbetween them of their attitude in relation to the Countess'swords and evangelicalism in general. "Secondly, I do not muchcare, you know."

　　Yes, I know you always do things the wrong way round, andaccording to your own ideas."

　　"My own ideas? I have faith like the most simple peasant woman,"said Mariette with a smile. "And, thirdly, I am going to theFrench Theatre to-morrow night."

　　"Ah! And have you seen that--What's her name?" asked CountessKaterina Ivanovna. Mariette gave the name of a celebrated Frenchactress.

　　"You must go, most decidedly; she is wonderful."

　　"Whom am I to see first, ma tante--the actress or the preacher?"Nekhludoff said with a smile.

　　"Please don't catch at my words."

　　"I should think the preacher first and then the actress, or elsethe desire for the sermon might vanish altogether," saidNekhludoff.

　　"No; better begin with the French Theatre, and do penanceafterwards."

　　"Now, then, you are not to hold me up for ridicule. The preacheris the preacher and the theatre is the theatre. One need not weepin order to be saved. One must have faith, and then one is sureto be gay."

　　"You, ma tante, preach better than any preacher."

　　"Do you know what?" said Mariette. "Come into my box to-morrow."

　　"I am afraid I shall not be able to."

　　The footman interrupted the conversation by announcing a visitor.It was the secretary of a philanthropic society of which theCountess was president.

　　"Oh, that is the dullest of men. I think I shall receive him outthere, and return to you later on. Mariette, give him his tea,"said the Countess, and left the room, with her quick, wrigglingwalk.

　　Mariette took the glove off her firm, rather flat hand, thefourth finger of which was covered with rings.

　　"Want any?" she said, taking hold of the silver teapot, underwhich a spirit lamp was burning, and extending her little fingercuriously. Her face looked sad and serious.

　　"It is always terribly painful to me to notice that people whoseopinion I value confound me with the position I am placed in."She seemed ready to cry as she said these last words. And thoughthese words had no meaning, or at any rate a very indefinitemeaning, they seemed to be of exceptional depth, meaning, orgoodness to Nekhludoff, so much was he attracted by the look ofthe bright eyes which accompanied the words of this young,beautiful, and well-dressed woman.

　　Nekhludoff looked at her in silence, and could not take his eyesfrom her face.

　　"You think I do not understand you and all that goes on in you.Why, everybody knows what you are doing. C'est le secret depolichinelle. And I am delighted with your work, and think highlyof you."

　　"Really, there is nothing to be delighted with; and I have doneso little as Yet."

　　"No matter. I understand your feelings, and I understand her.All right, all right. I will say nothing more about it," shesaid, noticing displeasure on his face. "But I also understandthat after seeing all the suffering and the horror in theprisons," Mariette went on, her only desire that of attractinghim, and guessing with her woman's instinct what was dear andimportant to him, "you wish to help the sufferers, those who aremade to suffer so terribly by other men, and their cruelty andindifference. I understand the willingness to give one's life,and could give mine in such a cause, but we each have our ownfate."

　　"Are you, then, dissatisfied with your fate?"

　　"I?" she asked, as if struck with surprise that such a questioncould be put to her. "I have to be satisfied, and am satisfied.But there is a worm that wakes up--"

　　"And he must not be allowed to fall asleep again. It is a voicethat must he obeyed," Nekhludoff said, failing into the trap.

　　Many a time later on Nekhludoff remembered with shame his talkwith her. He remembered her words, which were not so much lies asimitations of his own, and her face, which seemed looking at himwith sympathetic attention when he told her about the terrors ofthe prison and of his impressions in the country.

　　When the Countess returned they were talking not merely like old,but like exclusive friends who alone understood one another. Theywere talking about the injustice of power, of the sufferings ofthe unfortunate, the poverty of the people, yet in reality in themidst of the sound of their talk their eyes, gazing at eachother, kept asking, "Can you love me?" and answering, "I can,"and the sex-feeling, taking the most unexpected and brightestforms, drew them to each other. As she was going away she toldhim that she would always he willing to serve him in any way shecould, and asked him to come and see her, if only for a moment,in the theatre next day, as she had a very important thing totell him about.

　　"Yes, and when shall I see you again?" she added, with a sigh,carefully drawing the glove over her jewelled hand.

　　"Say you will come."

　　Nekhludoff promised.

　　That night, when Nekhludoff was alone in his room, and lay downafter putting out his candle, he could not sleep. He thought ofMaslova, of the decision of the Senate, of his resolve to followher in any case, of his having given up the land. The face ofMariette appeared to him as if in answer to those thoughts--herlook, her sigh, her words, "When shall I see you again?" and hersmile seemed vivid as if he really saw her, and he also smiled."Shall I be doing right in going to Siberia? And have I doneright in divesting myself of my wealth?" And the answers to thequestions on this Petersburg night, on which the daylightstreamed into the window from under the blind, were quiteindefinite. All seemed mixed in his head. He recalled his formerstate of mind, and the former sequence of his thoughts, but theyhad no longer their former power or validity.

　　"And supposing I have invented all this, and am unable to live itthrough--supposing I repent of having acted right," he thought;and unable to answer he was seized with such anguish and despairas he had long not felt. Unable to free himself from hisperplexity, he fell into a heavy sleep, such as he had sleptafter a heavy loss at cards.

　　CHAPTER XXV.

　　LYDIA SHOUSTOVA'S HOME.

　　Nekhludoff awoke next morning feeling as if he had been guilty ofsome iniquity the day before. He began considering. He could notremember having done anything wrong; he had committed no evilact, but he had had evil thoughts. He had thought that all hispresent resolutions to marry Katusha and to give up his land wereunachievable dreams; that he should be unable to bear it; that itwas artificial, unnatural; and that he would have to go on livingas he lived.

　　He had committed no evil action, but, what was far worse than anevil action, he had entertained evil thoughts whence all evilactions proceed. An evil action may not be repeated, and can berepented of; but evil thoughts generate all evil actions.

　　An evil action only smooths the path for other evil acts; evilthoughts uncontrollably drag one along that path.

　　When Nekhludoff repeated in his mind the thoughts of the daybefore, he was surprised that he could for a moment have believedthese thoughts. However new and difficult that which he haddecided to do might be, he knew that it was the only possible wayof life for him now, and however easy and natural it might havebeen to return to his former state, he knew that state to bedeath.

　　Yesterday's temptation seemed like the feeling when one awakesfrom deep sleep, and, without feeling sleepy, wants to liecomfortably in bed a little longer, yet knows that it is time torise and commence the glad and important work that awaits one.

　　On that, his last day in Petersburg, he went in the morning tothe Vasilievski Ostrov to see Shoustova. Shoustova lived on thesecond floor, and having been shown the back stairs, Nekhludoffentered straight into the hot kitchen, which smelt strongly offood. An elderly woman, with turned-up sleeves, with an apron andspectacles, stood by the fire stirring something in a steamingpan.

　　"Whom do you want?" she asked severely, looking at him over herspectacles.

　　Before Nekhludoff had time to answer, an expression of fright andjoy appeared on her face.

　　"Oh, Prince!" she exclaimed, wiping her hands on her apron. "Butwhy have you come the back way? Our Benefactor! I am her mother.They have nearly killed my little girl. You have saved us," shesaid, catching hold of Nekhludoff's hand and trying to kiss it.

　　"I went to see you yesterday. My sister asked me to. She is here.This way, this way, please," said Shoustova's mother, as she ledthe way through a narrow door, and a dark passage, arranging herhair and pulling at her tucked-up skirt. "My sister's name isKornilova. You must have heard of her," she added, stoppingbefore a closed door. "She was mixed up in a political affair.An extremely clever woman!"

　　Shoustova's mother opened the door and showed Nekhludoff into alittle room where on a sofa with a table before it sat a plump,short girl with fair hair that curled round her pale, round face,which was very like her mother's. She had a striped cotton blouseon.

　　Opposite her, in an armchair, leaning forward, so that he wasnearly bent double, sat a young fellow with a slight, black beardand moustaches.

　　"Lydia, Prince Nekhludoff!" he said.

　　The pale girl jumped up, nervously pushing back a lock of hairbehind her ear, and gazing at the newcomer with a frightened lookin her large, grey eyes.

　　"So you are that dangerous woman whom Vera Doukhova wished me tointercede for?" Nekhludoff asked, with a smile.

　　"Yes, I am," said Lydia Shoustova, her broad, kind, child-likesmile disclosing a row of beautiful teeth. "It was aunt who wasso anxious to see you. Aunt!" she called out, in a pleasant,tender voice through a door.

　　"Your imprisonment grieved Vera Doukhova very much," saidNekhludoff.

　　"Take a seat here, or better here," said Shoustova, pointing tothe battered easy-chair from which the young man had just risen.

　　"My cousin, Zakharov," she said, noticing that Nekhludoff lookedat the young man.

　　The young man greeted the visitor with a smile as kindly asShoustova's, and when Nekhludoff sat down he brought himselfanother chair, and sat by his side. A fair-haired schoolboy ofabout 10 also came into the room and silently sat down on thewindow-sill.

　　"Vera Doukhova is a great friend of my aunt's, but I hardly knowher," said Shoustova.

　　Then a woman with a very pleasant face, with a white blouse andleather belt, came in from the next room.

　　"How do you do? Thanks for coming," she began as soon as she hadtaken the place next Shoustova's on the sofa.

　　"Well, and how is Vera. You have seen her? How does she bear herfate?"

　　"She does not complain," said Nekhludoff. "She says she feelsperfectly happy."'

　　"Ah, that's like Vera. I know her," said the aunt, smiling andshaking her head. "One must know her. She has a fine character.Everything for others; nothing for herself."

　　"No, she asked nothing for herself, but only seemed concernedabout your niece. What seemed to trouble her most was, as shesaid, that your niece was imprisoned for nothing."

　　"Yes, that's true," said the aunt. "It is a dreadful business.She suffered, in reality, because of me."

　　"Not at all, aunt. I should have taken the papers without you allthe same.'

　　"Allow me to know better," said the aunt. "You see," she went onto Nekhludoff, "it all happened because a certain person asked meto keep his papers for a time, and I, having no house at thetime, brought them to her. And that very night the policesearched her room and took her and the papers, and have kept herup to now, demanding that she should say from whom she had them."

　　"But I never told them," said Shoustova quickly, pullingnervously at a lock that was not even out of place

　　"I never said you did" answered the aunt.

　　"If they took Mitin up it was certainly not through me," saidShoustova, blushing, and looking round uneasily.

　　"Don't speak about it, Lydia dear," said her mother.

　　"Why not? I should like to relate it," said Shoustova, no longersmiling nor pulling her lock, but twisting it round her fingerand getting redder.

　　"Don't forget what happened yesterday when you began talkingabout it."

　　"Not at all---Leave me alone, mamma. I did not tell, I only keptquiet. When he examined me about Mitin and about aunt, I saidnothing, and told him I would not answer."

　　"Then this--Petrov--"

　　"Petrov is a spy, a gendarme, and a blackguard," put in the aunt,to explain her niece's words to Nekhludoff.

　　"Then he began persuading," continued Shoustova, excitedly andhurriedly. "'Anything you tell me,' he said, 'can harm no one; onthe contrary, if you tell me, we may be able to set free innocentpeople whom we may be uselessly tormenting.' Well, I still said Iwould not tell. Then he said, 'All right, don't tell, but do notdeny what I am going to say.' And he named Mitin."

　　"Don't talk about it," said the aunt.

　　"Oh, aunt, don't interrupt," and she went on pulling the lock ofhair and looking round. "And then, only fancy, the next day Ihear--they let me know by knocking at the wall--that Mitin isarrested. Well, I think I have betrayed him, and this tormentedme so--it tormented me so that I nearly went mad."

　　"And it turned out that it was not at all because of you he wastaken up?"

　　"Yes, but I didn't know. I think, 'There, now, I have betrayedhim.' I walk and walk up and down from wall to wall, and cannothelp thinking. I think, 'I have betrayed him.' I lie down andcover myself up, and hear something whispering, 'Betrayed!betrayed Mitin! Mitin betrayed!' I know it is an hallucination,but cannot help listening. I wish to fall asleep, I cannot. Iwish not to think, and cannot cease. That is terrible!" and asShoustova spoke she got more and more excited, and twisted anduntwisted the lock of hair round her finger.

　　"Lydia, dear, be calm," the mother said, touching her shoulder.

　　But Shoustova could not stop herself.

　　"It is all the more terrible--" she began again, but did notfinish. and jumping up with a cry rushed out of the room

　　Her mother turned to follow her.

　　"They ought to be hanged, the rascals!" said the schoolboy whowas sitting on the window-sill.

　　"What's that?" said the mother.

　　"I only said--Oh, it's nothing," the schoolboy answered, andtaking a cigarette that lay on the table, he began to smoke.

　　CHAPTER XXVI.

　　LYDIA'S AUNT.

　　"Yes, that solitary confinement is terrible for the young," saidthe aunt, shaking her head and also lighting a cigarette.

　　"I should say for every one," Nekhludoff replied.

　　"No, not for all," answered the aunt. "For the realrevolutionists, I have been told, it is rest and quiet. A man whois wanted by the police lives in continual anxiety, materialwant, and fear for himself and others, and for his cause, and atlast, when he is taken up and it is all over, and allresponsibility is off his shoulders, he can sit and rest. I havebeen told they actually feel joyful when taken up. But the youngand innocent (they always first arrest the innocent, like Lydia),for them the first shock is terrible. It is not that they depriveyou of freedom; and the bad food and bad air--all that isnothing. Three times as many privations would be easily borne ifit were not for the moral shock when one is first taken."

　　"Have you experienced it?"

　　"I? I was twice in prison," she answered, with a sad, gentlesmile. "When I was arrested for the first time I had donenothing. I was 22, had a child, and was expecting another. Thoughthe loss of freedom and the parting with my child and husbandwere hard, they were nothing when compared with what I felt whenI found out that I had ceased being a human creature and hadbecome a thing. I wished to say good-bye to my little daughter. Iwas told to go and get into the trap. I asked where I was beingtaken to. The answer was that I should know when I got there. Iasked what I was accused of, but got no reply. After I had beenexamined, and after they had undressed me and put numbered prisonclothes on me, they led me to a vault, opened a door, pushed mein, and left me alone; a sentinel, with a loaded gun, paced upand down in front of my door, and every now and then looked inthrough a crack--I felt terribly depressed. What struck me mostat the time was that the gendarme officer who examined me offeredme a cigarette. So he knew that people liked smoking, and mustknow that they liked freedom and light; and that mothers lovetheir children, and children their mothers. Then how could theytear me pitilessly from all that was dear to me, and lock me upin prison like a wild animal? That sort of thing could not beborne without evil effects. Any one who believes in God and men,and believes that men love one another, will cease to believe itafter all that. I have ceased to believe in humanity since then,and have grown embittered," she finished, with a smile.

　　Shoustova's mother came in at the door through which her daughterhad gone out, and said that Lydia was very much upset, and wouldnot come in again.

　　"And what has this young life been ruined for?" said the aunt."What is especially painful to me is that I am the involuntarycause of it."

　　"She will recover in the country, with God's help," said themother. "We shall send her to her father."

　　"Yes, if it were not for you she would have perished altogether,"said the aunt. "Thank you. But what I wished to see you for isthis: I wished to ask you to take a letter to Vera Doukhova," andshe got the letter out of her pocket.

　　"The letter is not closed; you may read and tear it up, or handit to her, according to how far it coincides with yourprinciples," she said. "It contains nothing compromising."

　　Nekhludoff took the letter, and, having promised to give it toVera Doukhova, he took his leave and went away. He scaled theletter without reading it, meaning to take it to its destination.

　　CHAPTER XXVII.

　　THE STATE CHURCH AND THE PEOPLE.

　　The last thing that kept Nekhludoff in Petersburg was the case ofthe sectarians, whose petition he intended to get his formerfellow-officer, Aide-de-camp Bogatyreff, to hand to the Tsar. Hecame to Bogatyreff in the morning, and found him about to go out,though still at breakfast. Bogatyreff was not tall, but firmlybuilt and wonderfully strong (he could bend a horseshoe), a kind,honest, straight, and even liberal man. In spite of thesequalities, he was intimate at Court, and very fond of the Tsarand his family, and by some strange method he managed, whileliving in that highest circle, to see nothing but the good in itand to take no part in the evil and corruption. He nevercondemned anybody nor any measure, and either kept silent orspoke in a bold, loud voice, almost shouting what he had to say,and often laughing in the same boisterous manner. And he did notdo it for diplomatic reasons, but because such was his character.

　　"Ah, that's right that you have come. Would you like somebreakfast? Sit down, the beefsteaks are fine! I always begin withsomething substantial--begin and finish, too. Ha! ha! ha! Well,then, have a glass of wine," he shouted, pointing to a decanterof claret. "I have been thinking of you. I will hand on thepetition. I shall put it into his own hands. You may count onthat, only it occurred to me that it would be best for you tocall on Toporoff."

　　Nekhludoff made a wry face at the mention of Toporoff.

　　"It all depends on him. He will be consulted, anyhow. And perhapshe may himself meet your wishes."

　　"If you advise it I shall go."

　　"That's right. Well, and how does Petersburg agree with you?"shouted Bogatyreff. "Tell me. Eh?"

　　"I feel myself getting hypnotised," replied Nekhludoff.

　　"Hypnotised!" Bogatyreff repeated, and burst out laughing. "Youwon't have anything? Well, just as you please," and he wiped hismoustaches with his napkin. "Then you'll go? Eh? If he does notdo it, give the petition to me, and I shall hand it onto-morrow." Shouting these words, he rose, crossed himself justas naturally as he had wiped his mouth, and began buckling on hissword.

　　"And now good-bye; I must go. We are both going out," saidNekhludoff, and shaking Bogatyreff's strong, broad hand, and withthe sense of pleasure which the impression of something healthyand unconsciously fresh always gave him, Nekhludoff parted fromBogatyreff on the door-steps.

　　Though he expected no good result from his visit, stillNekhludoff, following Bogatyreff's advice, went to see Toporoff,on whom the sectarians' fate depended.

　　The position occupied by Toporoff, involving as it did anincongruity of purpose, could only be held by a dull man devoidof moral sensibility. Toporoff possessed both these negativequalities. The incongruity of the position he occupied was this.It was his duty to keep up and to defend, by external measures,not excluding violence, that Church which, by its owndeclaration, was established by God Himself and could not beshaken by the gates of hell nor by anything human. This divineand immutable God-established institution had to be sustained anddefended by a human institution--the Holy Synod, managed byToporoff and his officials. Toporoff did not see thiscontradiction, nor did he wish to see it, and he was thereforemuch concerned lest some Romish priest, some pastor, or somesectarian should destroy that Church which the gates of hellcould not conquer.

　　Toporoff, like all those who are quite destitute of thefundamental religious feeling that recognises the equality andbrotherhood of men, was fully convinced that the common peoplewere creatures entirely different from himself, and that thepeople needed what he could very well do without, for at thebottom of his heart he believed in nothing, and found such astate very convenient and pleasant. Yet he feared lest the peoplemight also come to such a state, and looked upon it as his sacredduty, as he called it, to save the people therefrom.

　　A certain cookery book declares that some crabs like to be boiledalive. In the same way he thought and spoke as if the peopleliked being kept in superstition; only he meant this in a literalsense, whereas the cookery book did not mean its words literally.

　　His feelings towards the religion he was keeping up were the sameas those of the poultry-keeper towards the carrion he fed hisfowls on. Carrion was very disgusting, but the fowls liked it;therefore it was right to feed the fowls on carrion. Of courseall this worship of the images of the Iberian, Kasan and SmolenskMothers of God was a gross superstition, but the people liked itand believed in it, and therefore the superstition must be keptup.

　　Thus thought Toporoff, not considering that the people only likedsuperstition because there always have been, and still are, menlike himself who, being enlightened, instead of using their lightto help others to struggle out of their dark ignorance, use it toplunge them still deeper into it.

　　When Nekhludoff entered the reception-room Toporoff was in hisstudy talking with an abbess, a lively and aristocratic lady, whowas spreading the Greek orthodox faith in Western Russia amongthe Uniates (who acknowledge the Pope of Rome), and who have theGreek religion enforced on them. An official who was in thereception-room inquired what Nekhludoff wanted, and when he heardthat Nekhludoff meant to hand in a petition to the Emperor, heasked him if he would allow the petition to be read first.Nekhludoff gave it him, and the official took it into the study.The abbess, with her hood and flowing veil and her long traintrailing behind, left the study and went out, her white hands(with their well-tended nails) holding a topaz rosary. Nekhludoffwas not immediately asked to come in. Toporoff was reading thepetition and shaking his head. He was unpleasantly surprised bythe clear and emphatic wording of it.

　　"If it gets into the hands of the Emperor it may causemisunderstandings, and unpleasant questions may be asked," hethought as he read. Then he put the petition on the table, rang,and ordered Nekhludoff to be asked in.

　　He remembered the case of the sectarians; he had had a petitionfrom them before. The case was this: These Christians, fallenaway from the Greek Orthodox Church, were first exhorted and thentried by law, but were acquitted. Then the Archdeacon and theGovernor arranged, on the plea that their marriages were illegal,to exile these sectarians, separating the husbands, wives, andchildren. These fathers and wives were now petitioning that theyshould not he parted. Toporoff recollected the first time thecase came to his notice: he had at that time hesitated whether hehad not better put a stop to it. But then he thought no harmcould result from his confirming the decision to separate andexile the different members of the sectarian families, whereasallowing the peasant sect to remain where it was might have a badeffect on the rest of the inhabitants of the place and cause themto fall away from Orthodoxy. And then the affair also proved thezeal of the Archdeacon, and so he let the case proceed along thelines it had taken. But now that they had a defender such asNekhludoff, who had some influence in Petersburg, the case mightbe specially pointed out to the Emperor as something cruel, or itmight get into the foreign papers. Therefore he at once took anunexpected decision.

　　"How do you do?" he said, with the air of a very busy man,receiving Nekhludoff standing, and at once starting on thebusiness. "I know this case. As soon as I saw the names Irecollected this unfortunate business," he said, taking up thepetition and showing it to Nekhludoff. "And I am much indebted toyou for reminding me of it. It is the over-zealousness of theprovincial authorities."

　　Nekhludoff stood silent, looking with no kindly feelings at theimmovable, pale mask of a face before him.

　　"And I shall give orders that these measures should he revokedand the people reinstated in their homes."

　　"So that I need not make use of this petition?"

　　"I promise you most assuredly," answered Toporoff, laying astress on the word I, as if quite convinced that his honesty, hisword was the best guarantee. "It will be best if I write at once.Take a seat, please."

　　He went up to the table and began to write. As Nekhludoff satdown he looked at the narrow, bald skull, at the fat, blue-veinedhand that was swiftly guiding the pen, and wondered why thisevidently indifferent man was doing what he did and why he wasdoing it with such care.

　　"Well, here you are," said Toporoff, sealing the envelope; "youmay let your clients know," and he stretched his lips to imitatea smile.

　　"Then what did these people suffer for?" Nekhludoff asked, as hetook the envelope.

　　Toporoff raised his head and smiled, as if Nekhludoff's questiongave him pleasure. "That I cannot tell. All I can say is that theinterests of the people guarded by us are so important that toogreat a zeal in matters of religion is not so dangerous or soharmful as the indifference which is now spreading--"

　　"But how is it that in the name of religion the very firstdemands of righteousness are violated--families are separated?"

　　Toporoff continued to smile patronisingly, evidently thinkingwhat Nekhludoff said very pretty. Anything that Nekhludoff couldsay he would have considered very pretty and very one-sided, fromthe height of what he considered his far-reaching office in theState.

　　"It may seem so from the point of view of a private individual,"he said, "but from an administrative point of view it appears ina rather different light. However, I must bid you good-bye, now,"said Toporoff, bowing his head and holding out his hand, whichNekhludoff pressed.

　　"The interests of the people! Your interests is what you mean!"thought Nekhludoff as he went out. And he ran over in his mindthe people in whom is manifested the activity of the institutionsthat uphold religion and educate the people. He began with thewoman punished for the illicit sale of spirits, the boy fortheft, the tramp for tramping, the incendiary for setting a houseon fire, the banker for fraud, and that unfortunate LydiaShoustova imprisoned only because they hoped to get suchinformation as they required from her. Then he thought of thesectarians punished for violating Orthodoxy, and Gourkevitch forwanting constitutional government, and Nekhludoff clearly sawthat all these people were arrested, locked up, exiled, notreally because they transgressed against justice or behavedunlawfully, but only because they were an obstacle hindering theofficials and the rich from enjoying the property they had takenaway from the people. And the woman who sold wine without havinga license, and the thief knocking about the town, and LydiaShoustova hiding proclamations, and the sectarians upsettingsuperstitions, and Gourkevitch desiring a constitution, were areal hindrance. It seemed perfectly clear to Nekhludoff that allthese officials, beginning with his aunt's husband, the Senators,and Toporoff, down to those clean and correct gentlemen who satat the tables in the Ministry Office, were not at all troubled bythe fact that that in such a state of things the innocent had tosuffer, but were only concerned how to get rid of the reallydangerous, so that the rule that ten guilty should escape ratherthan that one innocent should be condemned was not observed, but,on the contrary, for the sake of getting rid of one reallydangerous person, ten who seemed dangerous were punished, as,when cutting a rotten piece out of anything, one has to cut awaysome that is good.

　　This explanation seemed very simple and clear to Nekhludoff; butits very simplicity and clearness made him hesitate to accept it.Was it possible that so complicated a phenomenon could have sosimple and terrible an explanation? Was it possible that allthese words about justice, law, religion, and God, and so on,were mere words, hiding the coarsest cupidity and cruelty?

　　CHAPTER XXVIII.

　　THE MEANING OF MARIETTE'S ATTRACTION.

　　Nekhludoff would have left Petersburg on the evening of the sameday, but he had promised Mariette to meet her at the theatre, andthough he knew that he ought not to keep that promise, hedeceived himself into the belief that it would not be right tobreak his word.

　　"Am I capable of withstanding these temptations?" he askedhimself not quite honestly. "I shall try for the last time."

　　He dressed in his evening clothes, and arrived at the theatreduring the second act of the eternal Dame aux Camelias, in whicha foreign actress once again, and in a novel manner, showed howwomen die of consumption.

　　The theatre was quite full. Mariette's box was at once, and withgreat deference, shown to Nekhludoff at his request. A liveriedservant stood in the corridor outside; he bowed to Nekhludoff asto one whom he knew, and opened the door of the box.

　　All the people who sat and stood in the boxes on the oppositeside, those who sat near and those who were in the parterre, withtheir grey, grizzly, bald, or curly heads--all were absorbed inwatching the thin, bony actress who, dressed in silks and laces,was wriggling before them, and speaking in an unnatural voice.

　　Some one called "Hush!" when the door opened, and two streams,one of cool, the other of hot, air touched Nekhludoff's face.

　　Mariette and a lady whom he did not know, with a red cape and abig, heavy head-dress, were in the box, and two men also,Mariette's husband, the General, a tall, handsome man with asevere, inscrutable countenance, a Roman nose, and a uniformpadded round the chest, and a fair man, with a bit of shaved chinbetween pompous whiskers.

　　Mariette, graceful, slight, elegant, her low-necked dress showingher firm, shapely, slanting shoulders, with a little black molewhere they joined her neck, immediately turned, and pointed withher face to a chair behind her in an engaging manner, and smileda smile that seemed full of meaning to Nekhludoff.

　　The husband looked at him in the quiet way in which he dideverything, and bowed. In the look he exchanged with his wife,the master, the owner of a beautiful woman, was to be seen atonce.

　　When the monologue was over the theatre resounded with theclapping of hands. Mariette rose, and holding up her rustlingsilk skirt, went into the back of the box and introducedNekhludoff to her husband.

　　The General, without ceasing to smile with his eyes, said he wasvery pleased, and then sat inscrutably silent.

　　"I ought to have left to-day, had I not promised," saidNekhludoff to Mariette.

　　"If you do not care to see me," said Mariette, in answer to whathis words implied, "you will see a wonderful actress. Was she notsplendid in the last scene?" she asked, turning to her husband.

　　The husband bowed his head.

　　"This sort of thing does not touch me," said Nekhludoff. "I haveseen so much real suffering lately that--"

　　"Yes, sit down and tell me."

　　The husband listened, his eyes smiling more and more ironically."I have been to see that woman whom they have set free, and whohas been kept in prison for so long; she is quite broken down."

　　"That is the woman I spoke to you about," Mariette said to herhusband.

　　"Oh, yes, I was very pleased that she could be set free," saidthe husband quietly, nodding and smiling under his moustache withevident irony, so it seemed to Nekhludoff. "I shall go and have asmoke."

　　Nekhludoff sat waiting to hear what the something was thatMariette had to tell him. She said nothing, and did not even tryto say anything, but joked and spoke about the performance, whichshe thought ought to touch Nekhludoff. Nekhludoff saw that shehad nothing to tell, but only wished to show herself to him inall the splendour of her evening toilet, with her shoulders andlittle mole; and this was pleasant and yet repulsive to him.

　　The charm that had veiled all this sort of thing from Nekhludoffwas not removed, but it was as if he could see what lay beneath.Looking at Mariette, he admired her, and yet he knew that she wasa liar, living with a husband who was making his career by meansof the tears and lives of hundreds and hundreds of people, andthat she was quite indifferent about it, and that all she hadsaid the day before was untrue. What she wanted--neither he norshe knew why--was to make him fall in love with her. This bothattracted and disgusted him. Several times, on the point of goingaway, he took up his hat, and then stayed on.

　　But at last, when the husband returned with a strong smell oftobacco in his thick moustache, and looked at Nekhludoff with apatronising, contemptuous air, as if not recognising him,Nekhludoff left the box before the door was closed again, foundhis overcoat, and went out of the theatre. As he was walking homealong the Nevski, he could not help noticing a well-shaped andaggressively finely-dressed woman, who was quietly walking infront of him along the broad asphalt pavement. The consciousnessof her detestable power was noticeable in her face and the wholeof her figure. All who met or passed that woman looked at her.Nekhludoff walked faster than she did and, involuntarily, alsolooked her in the face. The face, which was probably painted, washandsome, and the woman looked at him with a smile and her eyessparkled. And, curiously enough, Nekhludoff was suddenly remindedof Mariette, because he again felt both attracted and disgustedjust as when in the theatre.

　　Having hurriedly passed her, Nekhludoff turned off on to theMorskaya, and passed on to the embankment, where, to the surpriseof a policeman, he began pacing up and down the pavement.

　　"The other one gave me just such a smile when I entered thetheatre," he thought, "and the meaning of the smile was the same.The only difference is, that this one said plainly, 'If you wantme, take me; if not, go your way,' and the other one pretendedthat she was not thinking of this, but living in some high andrefined state, while this was really at the root. Besides, thisone was driven to it by necessity, while the other amused herselfby playing with that enchanting, disgusting, frightful passion.This woman of the street was like stagnant, smelling wateroffered to those whose thirst was greater than their disgust;that other one in the theatre was like the poison which,unnoticed, poisons everything it gets into."

　　Nekhludoff recalled his liaison with the Marechal's wife, andshameful memories rose before him.

　　"The animalism of the brute nature in man is disgusting," thoughthe, "but as long as it remains in its naked form we observe itfrom the height of our spiritual life and despise it;and--whether one has fallen or resisted--one remains what one wasbefore. But when that same animalism hides under a cloak ofpoetry and aesthetic feeling and demands our worship--then we areswallowed up by it completely, and worship animalism, no longerdistinguishing good from evil. Then it is awful."

　　Nekhludoff perceived all this now as clearly as he saw thepalace, the sentinels, the fortress, the river, the boats, andthe Stock Exchange. And just as on this northern summer nightthere was no restful darkness on the earth, but only a dismal,dull light coming from an invisible source, so in Nekhludoff'ssoul there was no longer the restful darkness, ignorance.Everything seemed clear. It was clear that everything consideredimportant and good was insignificant and repulsive, and that allthe glamour and luxury hid the old, well-known crimes, which notonly remained unpunished but were adorned with all the splendourwhich men were capable of inventing.

　　Nekhludoff wished to forget all this, not to see it, but he couldno longer help seeing it. Though he could not see the source ofthe light which revealed it to him any more than he could see thesource of the light which lay over Petersburg; and though thelight appeared to him dull, dismal, and unnatural, yet he couldnot help seeing what it revealed, and he felt both joyful andanxious.

　　CHAPTER XXIX.

　　FOR HER SAKE AND FOR GOD'S.

　　On his return to Moscow Nekhludoff went at once to the prisonhospital to bring Maslova the sad news that the Senate hadconfirmed the decision of the Court, and that she must prepare togo to Siberia. He had little hope of the success of his petitionto the Emperor, which the advocate had written for him, and whichhe now brought with him for Maslova to sign. And, strange to say,he did not at present even wish to succeed; he had got used tothe thought of going to Siberia and living among the exiled andthe convicts, and he could not easily picture to himself how hislife and Maslova's would shape if she were acquitted. Heremembered the thought of the American writer, Thoreau, who atthe time when slavery existed in America said that "under agovernment that imprisons any unjustly the true place for a justman is also a prison." Nekhludoff, especially after his visit toPetersburg and all he discovered there, thought in the same way.

　　"Yes, the only place befitting an honest man in Russia at thepresent time is a prison," he thought, and even felt that thisapplied to him personally, when he drove up to the prison andentered its walls.

　　The doorkeeper recognised Nekhludoff, and told him at once thatMaslova was no longer there.

　　"Where is she, then?"

　　"In the cell again."

　　"Why has she been removed?" Nekhludoff asked.

　　"Oh, your excellency, what are such people?" said the doorkeeper,contemptuously. "She's been carrying on with the medicalassistant, so the head doctor ordered her back."

　　Nekhludoff had had no idea how near Maslova and the state of hermind were to him. He was stunned by the news.

　　He felt as one feels at the news of a great and unforeseenmisfortune, and his pain was very severe. His first feeling wasone of shame. He, with his joyful idea of the change that heimagined was going on in her soul, now seemed ridiculous in hisown eyes. He thought that all her pretence of not wishing toaccept his sacrifice, all the reproaches and tears, were only thedevices of a depraved woman, who wished to use him to the bestadvantage. He seemed to remember having seen signs of obduracy athis last interview with her. All this flashed through his mind ashe instinctively put on his hat and left the hospital.

　　"What am I to do now? Am I still bound to her? Has this action ofhers not set me free?" And as he put these questions to himselfhe knew at once that if he considered himself free, and threw herup, he would be punishing himself, and not her, which was what hewished to do, and he was seized with fear.

　　"No, what has happened cannot alter--it can only strengthen myresolve. Let her do what flows from the state her mind is in. Ifit is carrying on with the medical assistant, let her carry onwith the medical assistant; that is her business. I must do whatmy conscience demands of me. And my conscience expects me tosacrifice my freedom. My resolution to marry her, if only inform, and to follow wherever she may be sent, remainsunalterable." Nekhludoff said all this to himself with viciousobstinacy as he left the hospital and walked with resolute stepstowards the big gates of the prison. He asked the warder on dutyat the gate to inform the inspector that he wished to seeMaslova. The warder knew Nekhludoff, and told him of an importantchange that had taken place in the prison. The old inspector hadbeen discharged, and a new, very severe official appointed in hisplace.

　　"They are so strict nowadays, it's just awful," said the jailer."He is in here; they will let him know directly."

　　The new inspector was in the prison and soon came to Nekhludoff.He was a tall, angular man, with high cheek bones, morose, andvery slow in his movements.

　　"Interviews are allowed in the visiting room on the appointeddays," he said, without looking at Nekhludoff.

　　"But I have a petition to the Emperor, which I want signed."

　　"You can give it to me."

　　"I must see the prisoner myself. I was always allowed to before."

　　"That was so, before," said the inspector, with a furtive glanceat Nekhludoff.

　　"I have a permission from the governor," insisted Nekhludoff, andtook out his pocket-book.

　　"Allow me," said the inspector, taking the paper from Nekhludoffwith his long, dry, white fingers, on the first of which was agold ring, still without looking him in the eyes. He read thepaper slowly. "Step into the office, please."

　　This time the office was empty. The inspector sat down by thetable and began sorting some papers that lay on it, evidentlyintending to be present at the interview.

　　When Nekhludoff asked whether he might see the politicalprisoner, Doukhova, the inspector answered, shortly, that hecould not. "Interviews with political prisoners are notpermitted," he said, and again fixed his attention on his papers.With a letter to Doukhova in his pocket, Nekhludoff felt as if hehad committed some offence, and his plans had been discovered andfrustrated.

　　When Maslova entered the room the inspector raised his head, and,without looking at either her or Nekhludoff, remarked: "You maytalk," and went on sorting his papers. Maslova had again thewhite jacket, petticoat and kerchief on. When she came up toNekhludoff and saw his cold, hard look, she blushed scarlet, andcrumbling the hem of her jacket with her hand, she cast down hereyes. Her confusion, so it seemed to Nekhludoff, confirmed thehospital doorkeeper's words.

　　Nekhludoff had meant to treat her in the same way as before, butcould not bring himself to shake hands with her, so disgustingwas she to him now.

　　"I have brought you had news," he said, in a monotonous voice,without looking at her or taking her hand. "The Senate hasrefused."

　　"I knew it would," she said, in a strange tone, as if she weregasping for breath.

　　Formerly Nekhludoff would have asked why she said she knew itwould; now he only looked at her. Her eyes were full of tears.But this did not soften him; it roused his irritation against hereven more.

　　The inspector rose and began pacing up and down the room.

　　In spite of the disgust Nekhludoff was feeling at the moment, heconsidered it right to express his regret at the Senate'sdecision.

　　"You must not despair," he said. "The petition to the Emperor maymeet with success, and I hope---"

　　"I'm not thinking of that," she said, looking piteously at himwith her wet, squinting eyes.

　　"What is it, then?"

　　"You have been to the hospital, and they have most likely toldyou about me--"

　　"What of that? That is your affair," said Nekhludoff coldly, andfrowned. The cruel feeling of wounded pride that had quieted downrose with renewed force when she mentioned the hospital.

　　"He, a man of the world, whom any girl of the best families wouldthink it happiness to marry, offered himself as a husband to thiswoman, and she could not even wait, but began intriguing with themedical assistant," thought he, with a look of hatred.

　　"Here, sign this petition," he said, taking a large envelope fromhis pocket, and laying the paper on the table. She wiped thetears with a corner of her kerchief, and asked what to write andwhere.

　　He showed her, and she sat down and arranged the cuff of herright sleeve with her left hand; he stood behind her, andsilently looked at her back, which shook with suppressed emotion,and evil and good feelings were fighting in his breast--feelingsof wounded pride and of pity for her who was suffering--and thelast feeling was victorious.

　　He could not remember which came first; did the pity for herfirst enter his heart, or did he first remember his own sins--hisown repulsive actions, the very same for which he was condemningher? Anyhow, he both felt himself guilty and pitied her.

　　Having signed the petition and wiped her inky finger on herpetticoat, she got up and looked at him.

　　"Whatever happens, whatever comes of it, my resolve remainsunchanged," said Nekhludoff. The thought that he had forgiven herheightened his feeling of pity and tenderness for her, and hewished to comfort her. "I will do what I have said; wherever theytake you I shall be with you."

　　"What's the use?" she interrupted hurriedly, though her wholeface lighted up.

　　Think what you will want on the way--"

　　"I don't know of anything in particular, thank you."

　　The inspector came up, and without waiting for a remark from himNekhludoff took leave, and went out with peace, joy, and lovetowards everybody in his heart such as he had never felt before.The certainty that no action of Maslova could change his love forher filled him with joy and raised him to a level which he hadnever before attained. Let her intrigue with the medicalassistant; that was her business. He loved her not for his ownbut for her sake and for God's.

　　And this intrigue, for which Maslova was turned out of thehospital, and of which Nekhludoff believed she was really guilty,consisted of the following:

　　Maslova was sent by the head nurse to get some herb tea from thedispensary at the end of the corridor, and there, all alone, shefound the medical assistant, a tall man, with a blotchy face, whohad for a long time been bothering her. In trying to get awayfrom him Maslova gave him such a push that he knocked his headagainst a shelf, from which two bottles fell and broke. The headdoctor, who was passing at that moment, heard the sound ofbreaking glass, and saw Maslova run out, quite red, and shoutedto her:

　　"Ah, my good woman, if you start intriguing here, I'll send youabout your business. What is the meaning of it?" he went on,addressing the medical assistant, and looking at him over hisspectacles.

　　The assistant smiled, and began to justify himself. The doctorgave no heed to him, but, lifting his head so that he now lookedthrough his spectacles, he entered the ward. He told theinspector the same day to send another more sedateassistant-nurse in Maslova's place. And this was her "intrigue"with the medical assistant.

　　Being turned out for a love intrigue was particularly painful toMaslova, because the relations with men, which had long beenrepulsive to her, had become specially disgusting after meetingNekhludoff. The thought that, judging her by her past and presentposition, every man, the blotchy assistant among them, consideredhe had a right to offend her, and was surprised at her refusal,hurt her deeply, and made her pity herself and brought tears toher eyes.

　　When she went out to Nekhludoff this time she wished to clearherself of the false charge which she knew he would certainlyhave heard about. But when she began to justify herself she felthe did not believe her, and that her excuses would onlystrengthen his suspicions; tears choked her, and she was silent.

　　Maslova still thought and continued to persuade herself that shehad never forgiven him, and hated him, as she told him at theirsecond interview, but in reality she loved him again, and lovedhim so that she did all he wished her to do; left off drinking,smoking, coquetting, and entered the hospital because she knew hewished it. And if every time he reminded her of it, she refusedso decidedly to accept his sacrifice and marry him, it wasbecause she liked repeating the proud words she had once uttered,and because she knew that a marriage with her would be amisfortune for him.

　　She had resolutely made up her mind that she would not accept hissacrifice, and yet the thought that he despised her and believedthat she still was what she had been, and did not notice thechange that had taken place in her, was very painful. That hecould still think she had done wrong while in the hospitaltormented her more than the news that her sentence was confirmed.

　　CHAPTER XXX.

　　THE ASTONISHING INSTITUTION CALLED CRIMINAL LAW.

　　Maslova might be sent off with the first gang of prisoners,therefore Nekhludoff got ready for his departure. But there wasso much to be done that he felt that he could not finish it,however much time he might have. It was quite different now fromwhat it had been. Formerly he used to be obliged to look for anoccupation, the interest of which always centred in one person,i.e., Dmitri Ivanovitch Nekhludoff, and yet, though everyinterest of his life was thus centred, all these occupations werevery wearisome. Now all his occupations related to other peopleand not to Dmitri Ivanovitch, and they were all interesting andattractive, and there was no end to them. Nor was this all.Formerly Dmitri Ivanovitch Nekhludoff's occupations always madehim feel vexed and irritable; now they produced a joyful state ofmind. The business at present occupying Nekhludoff could bedivided under three headings. He himself, with his usualpedantry, divided it in that way, and accordingly kept the papersreferring to it in three different portfolios. The first referredto Maslova, and was chiefly that of taking steps to get herpetition to the Emperor attended to, and preparing for herprobable journey to Siberia.

　　The second was about his estates. In Panovo he had given the landto the peasants on condition of their paying rent to be put totheir own communal use. But he had to confirm this transaction bya legal deed, and to make his will, in accordance with it. InKousminski the state of things was still as he had first arrangedit, i.e., he was to receive the rent; but the terms had to befixed, and also how much of the money he would use to live on,and how much he would leave for the peasants' use. As he did notknow what his journey to Siberia would cost him, he could notdecide to lose this revenue altogether, though he reduced theincome from it by half.

　　The third part of his business was to help the convicts, whoapplied more and more often to him. At first when he came incontact with the prisoners, and they appealed to him for help, heat once began interceding for them, hoping to lighten their fate,but he soon had so many applications that he felt theimpossibility of attending to all of them, and that naturally ledhim to take up another piece of work, which at last roused hisinterest even more than the three first. This new part of hisbusiness was finding an answer to the following questions: Whatwas this astonishing institution called criminal law, of whichthe results were that in the prison, with some of the inmates ofwhich he had lately become acquainted, and in all those otherplaces of confinement, from the Peter and Paul Fortress inPetersburg to the island of Sakhalin, hundreds and thousands ofvictims were pining? What did this strange criminal law existfor? How had it originated?

　　From his personal relations with the prisoners, from notes bysome of those in confinement, and by questioning the advocate andthe prison priest, Nekhludoff came to the conclusion that theconvicts, the so-called criminals, could be divided into fiveclasses. The first were quite innocent people, condemned byjudicial blunder. Such were the Menshoffs, supposed to beincendiaries, Maslova, and others. There were not many of these;according to the priest's words, only seven per cent., but theircondition excited particular interest.

　　To the second class belong persons condemned for actions doneunder peculiar circumstances, i.e., in a fit of passion, jealousy,or drunkenness, circumstances under which those who judged themwould surely have committed the same actions.

　　The third class consisted of people punished for having committedactions which, according to their understanding, were quitenatural, and even good, but which those other people, the men whomade the laws, considered to be crimes. Such were the persons whosold spirits without a license, smugglers, those who gatheredgrass and wood on large estates and in the forests belonging tothe Crown; the thieving miners; and those unbelieving people whorobbed churches.

　　To the fourth class belonged those who were imprisoned onlybecause they stood morally higher than the average level ofsociety. Such were the Sectarians, the Poles, the Circassiansrebelling in order to regain their independence, the politicalprisoners, the Socialists, the strikers condemned forwithstanding the authorities. There was, according toNekhludoff's observations, a very large percentage belonging tothis class; among them some of the best of men.

　　The fifth class consisted of persons who had been far more sinnedagainst by society than they had sinned against it. These werecastaways, stupefied by continual oppression and temptation, suchas the boy who had stolen the rugs, and hundreds of others whomNekhludoff had seen in the prison and out of it. The conditionsunder which they lived seemed to lead on systematically to thoseactions which are termed crimes. A great many thieves andmurderers with whom he had lately come in contact, according toNekhludoff's estimate, belonged to this class. To this classNekhludoff also reckoned those depraved, demoralised creatureswhom the new school of criminology classify as the criminal type,and the existence of which is considered to be the chief proof ofthe necessity of criminal law and punishment. This demoralised,depraved, abnormal type was, according to Nekhludoff, exactly thesame as that against whom society had sinned, only here societyhad sinned not directly against them, but against their parentsand forefathers.

　　Among this latter class Nekhludoff was specially struck by oneOkhotin, an inveterate thief, the illegitimate son of aprostitute, brought up in a doss-house, who, up to the age of 30,had apparently never met with any one whose morality was abovethat of a policeman, and who had got into a band of thieves whenquite young. He was gifted with an extraordinary sense of humour,by means of which he made himself very attractive. He askedNekhludoff for protection, at the same time making fun ofhimself, the lawyers, the prison, and laws human and divine.

　　Another was the handsome Fedoroff, who, with a band of robbers,of whom he was the chief, had robbed and murdered an old man, anofficial. Fedoroff was a peasant, whose father had beenunlawfully deprived of his house, and who, later on, when servingas a soldier, had suffered much because he had fallen in lovewith an officer's mistress. He had a fascinating, passionatenature, that longed for enjoyment at any cost. He had never metanybody who restrained himself for any cause whatever, and hadnever heard a word about any aim in life other than enjoyment.

　　Nekhludoff distinctly saw that both these men were richly endowedby nature, but had been neglected and crippled like uncared-forplants.

　　He had also met a tramp and a woman who had repelled him by theirdulness and seeming cruelty, but even in them he could find notrace of the criminal type written about by the Italian school,but only saw in them people who were repulsive to him personally,just in the same way as some he had met outside the prison, inswallow-tail coats wearing epaulettes, or bedecked with lace. Andso the investigation of the reasons why all these very differentpersons were put in prison, while others just like them weregoing about free and even judging them, formed a fourth task forNekhludoff.

　　He hoped to find an answer to this question in books, and boughtall that referred to it. He got the works of Lombroso, Garofalo,Ferry, List, Maudsley, Tard, and read them carefully. But as heread he became more and more disappointed. It happened to him asit always happens to those who turn to science not in order toplay a part in it, nor to write, nor to dispute, nor to teach,but simply for an answer to an every-day question of life.Science answered thousands of different very subtle and ingeniousquestions touching criminal law, but not the one he was trying tosolve. He asked a very simple question: "Why, and with whatright, do some people lock up, torment, exile, flog, and killothers, while they are themselves just like those whom theytorment, flog, and kill?" And in answer he got deliberations asto whether human beings had free will or not. Whether signs ofcriminality could be detected by measuring the skulls or not.What part heredity played in crime. Whether immorality could beinherited. What madness is, what degeneration is, and whattemperament is. How climate, food, ignorance, imitativeness,hypnotism, or passion act. What society is. What are its duties,etc., etc.

　　These disquisitions reminded him of the answer he once got from alittle boy whom he met coming home from school. Nekhludoff askedhim if he had learned his spelling.

　　"I have," answered the boy.

　　"Well, then, tell me, how do you spell 'leg'?

　　"A dog's leg, or what kind of leg?" the boy answered, with a slylook.

　　Answers in the form of new questions, like the boy's, was allNekhludoff got in reply to his one primary question. He foundmuch that was clever, learned much that was interesting, but whathe did not find was an answer to the principal question: By whatright some people punish others?

　　Not only did he not find any answer, but all the arguments werebrought forward in order to explain and vindicate punishment, thenecessity of which was taken as an axiom.

　　Nekhludoff read much, but only in snatches, and putting down hisfailure to this superficial way of reading, hoped to find theanswer later on. He would not allow himself to believe in thetruth of the answer which began, more and more often, to presentitself to him.

　　CHAPTER XXXI.

　　NEKHLUDOFF'S SISTER AND HER HUSBAND.

　　The gang of prisoners, with Maslova among them, was to start onthe 5th July. Nekhludoff arranged to start on the same day.

　　The day before, Nekhludoff's sister and her husband came to townto see him.

　　Nekhludoff's sister, Nathalie Ivanovna Rogozhinsky, was 10 yearsolder than her brother. She had been very fond of him when he wasa boy, and later on, just before her marriage, they grew veryclose to each other, as if they were equals, she being a youngwoman of 25, he a lad of 15. At that time she was in love withhis friend, Nikolenka Irtenieff, since dead. They both lovedNikolenka, and loved in him and in themselves that which is good,and which unites all men. Since then they had both been depraved,he by military service and a vicious life, she by marriage with aman whom she loved with a sensual love, who did not care for thethings that had once been so dear and holy to her and to herbrother, nor even understand the meaning of those aspirationstowards moral perfection and the service of mankind, which onceconstituted her life, and put them down to ambition and the wishto show off; that being the only explanation comprehensible tohim.

　　Nathalie's husband had been a man without a name and withoutmeans, but cleverly steering towards Liberalism or Conservatism,according to which best suited his purpose, he managed to make acomparatively brilliant judicial career. Some peculiarity whichmade him attractive to women assisted him when he was no longerin his first youth. While travelling abroad he made Nekhludoff'sacquaintance, and managed to make Nathalie, who was also nolonger a girl, fall in love with him, rather against her mother'swishes who considered a marriage with him to be a misalliance forher daughter. Nekhludoff, though he tried to hide it fromhimself, though he fought against it, hated his brother-in-law.

　　Nekhludoff had a strong antipathy towards him because of thevulgarity of his feelings, his assurance and narrowness, butchiefly because of Nathalie, who managed to love him in spite ofthe narrowness of his nature, and loved him so selfishly, sosensually, and stifled for his sake all the good that had been inher.

　　It always hurt Nekhludoff to think of Nathalie as the wife ofthat hairy, self-assured man with the shiny, bald patch on hishead. He could not even master a feeling of revulsion towardstheir children, and when he heard that she was again going tohave a baby, he felt something like sorrow that she had once morebeen infected with something bad by this man who was so foreignto him. The Rogozhinskys had come to Moscow alone, having lefttheir two children--a boy and a girl--at home, and stopped in thebest rooms of the best hotel. Nathalie at once went to hermother's old house, but hearing from Agraphena Petrovna that herbrother had left, and was living in a lodging-house, she drovethere. The dirty servant met her in the stuffy passage, dark butfor a lamp which burnt there all day. He told her that the Princewas not in.

　　Nathalie asked to be shown into his rooms, as she wished to leavea note for him, and the man took her up.

　　Nathalie carefully examined her brother's two little rooms. Shenoticed in everything the love of cleanliness and order she knewso well in him, and was struck by the novel simplicity of thesurroundings. On his writing-table she saw the paper-weight withthe bronze dog on the top which she remembered; the tidy way inwhich his different portfolios and writing utensils were placedon the table was also familiar, and so was the large, crookedivory paper knife which marked the place in a French book byTard, which lay with other volumes on punishment and a book inEnglish by Henry George. She sat down at the table and wrote anote asking him to be sure to come that same day, and shaking herhead in surprise at what she saw, she returned to her hotel.

　　Two questions regarding her brother now interested Nathalie: hismarriage with Katusha, which she had heard spoken about in theirtown--for everybody was speaking about it--and his giving awaythe land to the peasants, which was also known, and struck manyas something of a political nature, and dangerous. The Carriagewith Katusha pleased her in a way. She admired that resolutenesswhich was so like him and herself as they used to be in thosehappy times before her marriage. And yet she was horrified whenshe thought her brother was going to marry such a dreadful woman.The latter was the stronger feeling of the two, and she decidedto use all her influence to prevent him from doing it, though sheknew how difficult this would be.

　　The other matter, the giving up of the land to the peasants, didnot touch her so nearly, but her husband was very indignant aboutit, and expected her to influence her brother against it.

　　Rogozhinsky said that such an action was the height ofinconsistency, flightiness, and pride, the only possibleexplanation of which was the desire to appear original, to brag,to make one's self talked about.

　　"What sense could there be in letting the land to the peasants,on condition that they pay the rent to themselves?" he said. "Ifhe was resolved to do such a thing, why not sell the land to themthrough the Peasants' Bank? There might have been some sense inthat. In fact, this act verges on insanity."

　　And Rogozhinsky began seriously thinking about putting Nekhludoffunder guardianship, and demanded of his wife that she shouldspeak seriously to her brother about his curious intention.

　　CHAPTER XXXII.

　　NEKHLUDOFF'S ANARCHISM.

　　As soon as Nekhludoff returned that evening and saw his sister'snote on the table he started to go and see her. He found Nathaliealone, her husband having gone to take a rest in the next room.She wore a tightly-fitting black silk dress, with a red bow infront. Her black hair was crimped and arranged according to thelatest fashion.

　　The pains she took to appear young, for the sake of her husband,whose equal she was in years, were very obvious.

　　When she saw her brother she jumped up and hurried towards him,with her silk dress rustling. They kissed, and looked smilinglyat each other. There passed between them that mysterious exchangeof looks, full of meaning, in which all was true, and whichcannot be expressed in words. Then came words which were nottrue. They had not met since their mother's death.

　　"You have grown stouter and younger," he said, and her lipspuckered up with pleasure.

　　"And you have grown thinner."

　　"Well, and how is your husband?" Nekhludoff asked.

　　"He is taking a rest; he did not sleep all night." There was muchto say, but it was not said in words; only their looks expressedwhat their words failed to say.

　　"I went to see you."

　　"Yes, I know. I moved because the house is too big for me. I waslonely there, and dull. I want nothing of all that is there, sothat you had better take it all--the furniture, I mean, andthings."

　　"Yes, Agraphena Petrovna told me. I went there. Thanks, verymuch. But--"

　　At this moment the hotel waiter brought in a silver tea-set.While he set the table they were silent. Then Nathalie sat downat the table and made the tea, still in silence. Nekhludoff alsosaid nothing.

　　At last Nathalie began resolutely. "Well, Dmitri, I know allabout it." And she looked at him.

　　"What of that? l am glad you know."

　　"How can you hope to reform her after the life she has led?" sheasked.

　　He sat quite straight on a small chair, and listened attentively,trying to understand her and to answer rightly. The state of mindcalled forth in him by his last interview with Maslova stillfilled his soul with quiet joy and good will to all men.

　　"It is not her but myself I wish to reform," he replied.

　　Nathalie sighed.

　　"There are other means besides marriage to do that."

　　"But I think it is the best. Besides, it leads me into that worldin which I can be of use."

　　"I cannot believe you will be happy," said Nathalie.

　　"It's not my happiness that is the point."

　　"Of course, but if she has a heart she cannot be happy--cannoteven wish it."

　　"She does not wish it."

　　"I understand; but life--"

　　"Yes--life?"

　　"Demands something different."

　　"It demands nothing but that we should do what is right," saidNekhludoff, looking into her face, still handsome, thoughslightly wrinkled round eyes and mouth.

　　"I do not understand," she said, and sighed.

　　"Poor darling; how could she change so?" he thought, calling backto his mind Nathalie as she had been before her marriage, andfeeling towards her a tenderness woven out of innumerablememories of childhood. At that moment Rogozhinsky entered theroom, with head thrown back and expanded chest, and steppinglightly and softly in his usual manner, his spectacles, his baldpatch, and his black beard all glistening.

　　"How do you do? How do you do?" he said, laying an unnatural andintentional stress on his words. (Though, soon after themarriage, they had tried to be more familiar with each other,they had never succeeded.)

　　They shook hands, and Rogozhinsky sank softly into an easy-chair.

　　"Am I not interrupting your conversation?"

　　"No, I do not wish to hide what I am saying or doing from anyone."

　　As soon as Nekhludoff saw the hairy hands, and heard thepatronising, self-assured tones, his meekness left him in amoment.

　　"Yes, we were talking about his intentions," said Nathalie."Shall I give you a cup of tea?" she added, taking the teapot.

　　"Yes, please. What particular intentions do you mean?"

　　That of going to Siberia with the gang of prisoners, among whomis the woman I consider myself to have wronged," utteredNekhludoff.

　　"I hear not only to accompany her, but more than that."

　　"Yes, and to marry her if she wishes it."

　　"Dear me! But if you do not object I should like to ask you toexplain your motives. I do not understand them."

　　"My motives are that this woman--that this woman's first step onher way to degradation--" Nekhludoff got angry with himself, andwas unable to find the right expression. "My motives are that Iam the guilty one, and she gets the punishment."

　　"If she is being punished she cannot be innocent, either."

　　"She is quite innocent." And Nekhludoff related the wholeincident with unnecessary warmth.

　　"Yes, that was a case of carelessness on the part of thepresident, the result of which was a thoughtless answer on thepart of the jury; but there is the Senate for cases like that."

　　"The Senate has rejected the appeal."

　　"Well, if the Senate has rejected it, there cannot have beensufficient reasons for an appeal," said Rogozhinsky, evidentlysharing the prevailing opinion that truth is the product ofjudicial decrees. "The Senate cannot enter into the question onits merits. If there is a real mistake, the Emperor should bepetitioned."

　　"That has been done, but there is no probability of success. Theywill apply to the Department of the Ministry, the Department willconsult the Senate, the Senate will repeat its decision, and, asusual, the innocent will get punished."

　　"In the first place, the Department of the Ministry won't consultthe Senate," said Rogozhinsky, with a condescending smile; "itwill give orders for the original deeds to be sent from the LawCourt, and if it discovers a mistake it will decide accordingly.And, secondly, the innocent are never punished, or at least invery rare, exceptional cases. It is the guilty who are punished,"Rogozhinsky said deliberately, and smiled self-complacently.

　　"And I have become fully convinced that most of those condemnedby law are innocent."

　　"How's that?

　　"Innocent in the literal sense. Just as this woman is innocent ofpoisoning any one; as innocent as a peasant I have just come toknow, of the murder he never committed; as a mother and son whowere on the point of being condemned for incendiarism, which wascommitted by the owner of the house that was set on fire."

　　"Well, of course there always have been and always will bejudicial errors. Human institutions cannot be perfect."

　　"And, besides, there are a great many people convicted who areinnocent of doing anything considered wrong by the society theyhave grown up in."

　　"Excuse me, this is not so; every thief knows that stealing iswrong, and that we should not steal; that it is immoral," saidRogozhinsky, with his quiet, self-assured, slightly contemptuoussmile, which specially irritated Nekhludoff.

　　"No, he does not know it; they say to him 'don't steal,' and heknows that the master of the factory steals his labour by keepingback his wages; that the Government, with its officials, robs himcontinually by taxation."

　　"Why, this is anarchism," Rogozhinsky said, quietly defining hisbrother-in-law's words.

　　"I don't know what it is; I am only telling you the truth,"Nekhludoff continued. "He knows that the Government is robbinghim, knows that we landed proprietors have robbed him long since,robbed him of the land which should be the common property ofall, and then, if he picks up dry wood to light his fire on thatland stolen from him, we put him in jail, and try to persuade himthat he is a thief. Of course he knows that not he but those whorobbed him of the land are thieves, and that to get anyrestitution of what has been robbed is his duty towards hisfamily."

　　"I don't understand, or if I do I cannot agree with it. The landmust be somebody's property," began Rogozhinsky quietly, and,convinced that Nekhludoff was a Socialist, and that Socialismdemands that all the land should be divided equally, that such adivision would be very foolish, and that he could easily prove itto be so, he said. "If you divided it equally to-day, it wouldto-morrow be again in the hands of the most industrious andclever."

　　"Nobody is thinking of dividing the land equally. The land mustnot be anybody's property; must not be a thing to be bought andsold or rented."

　　"The rights of property are inborn in man; without them thecultivation of land would present no interest. Destroy the rightsof property and we lapse into barbarism." Rogozhinsky utteredthis authoritatively, repeating the usual argument in favour ofprivate ownership of land which is supposed to be irrefutable,based on the assumption that people's desire to possess landproves that they need it.

　　"On the contrary, only when the land is nobody's property will itcease to lie idle, as it does now, while the landlords, like dogsin the manger, unable themselves to put it to use, will not letthose use it who are able."

　　"But, Dmitri Ivanovitch, what you are saying is sheer madness. Isit possible to abolish property in land in our age? I know it isyour old hobby. But allow me to tell you straight," andRogozhinsky grew pale, and his voice trembled. It was evidentthat this question touched him very nearly. "I should advise youto consider this question well before attempting to solve itpractically."

　　"Are you speaking of my personal affairs?"

　　"Yes, I hold that we who are placed in special circumstancesshould bear the responsibilities which spring from thosecircumstances, should uphold the conditions in which we wereborn, and which we have inherited from our predecessors, andwhich we ought to pass on to our descendants."

　　"I consider it my duty--"

　　"Wait a bit," said Rogozhinsky, not permitting the interruption."I am not speaking for myself or my children. The position of mychildren is assured, and I earn enough for us to livecomfortably, and I expect my children will live so too, so thatmy interest in your action--which, if you will allow me to sayso, is not well considered--is not based on personal motives; itis on principle that I cannot agree with you. I should advise youto think it well over, to read---?"

　　"Please allow me to settle my affairs, and to choose what to readand what not to read, myself," said Nekhludoff, turning pale.Feeling his hands grow cold, and that he was no longer master ofhimself, he stopped, and began drinking his tea.

　　CHAPTER XXXIII.

　　THE AIM OF THE LAW.

　　"Well, and how are the children?" Nekhludoff asked his sisterwhen he was calmer. The sister told him about the children. Shesaid they were staying with their grandmother (their father'smother), and, pleased that his dispute with her husband had cometo an end, she began telling him how her children played thatthey were travelling, just as he used to do with his three dolls,one of them a negro and another which he called the French lady.

　　"Can you really remember it all?" said Nekhludoff, smiling.

　　"Yes, and just fancy, they play in the very same way."

　　The unpleasant conversation had been brought to an end, andNathalie was quieter, but she did not care to talk in herhusband's presence of what could be comprehensible only to herbrother, so, wishing to start a general conversation, she begantalking about the sorrow of Kamenski's mother at losing her onlyson, who had fallen in a duel, for this Petersburg topic of theday had now reached Moscow. Rogozhinsky expressed disapproval atthe state of things that excluded murder in a duel from theordinary criminal offences. This remark evoked a rejoinder fromNekhludoff, and a new dispute arose on the subject. Nothing wasfully explained, neither of the antagonists expressed all he hadin his mind, each keeping to his conviction, which condemned theother. Rogozhinsky felt that Nekhludoff condemned him anddespised his activity, and he wished to show him the injustice ofhis opinions.

　　Nekhludoff, on the other hand, felt provoked by hisbrother-in-law's interference in his affairs concerning the land.And knowing in his heart of hearts that his sister, her husband,and their children, as his heirs, had a right to do so, wasindignant that this narrow-minded man persisted with calmassurance to regard as just and lawful what Nekhludoff no longerdoubted was folly and crime.

　　This man's arrogance annoyed Nekhludoff.

　　"What could the law do?" he asked.

　　"It could sentence one of the two duellists to the mines like anordinary murderer."

　　Nekhludoff's hands grew cold.

　　"Well, and what good would that be?" he asked, hotly.

　　"It would be just."

　　"As if justice were the aim of the law," said Nekhludoff.

　　"What else?"

　　"The upholding of class interests! I think the law is only aninstrument for upholding the existing order of things beneficialto our class."

　　"This is a perfectly new view," said Rogozhinsky with a quietsmile; "the law is generally supposed to have a totally differentaim."

　　"Yes, so it has in theory but not in practice, as I have foundout. The law aims only at preserving the present state of things,and therefore it persecutes and executes those who stand abovethe ordinary level and wish to raise it--the so-called politicalprisoners, as well as those who are below the average--theso-called criminal types."

　　"I do not agree with you. In the first place, I cannot admit thatthe criminals classed as political are punished because they areabove the average. In most cases they are the refuse of society,just as much perverted, though in a different way, as thecriminal types whom you consider below the average."

　　"But I happen to know men who are morally far above their judges;all the sectarians are moral, from--"

　　But Rogozhinsky, a man not accustomed to be interrupted when hespoke, did not listen to Nekhludoff, but went on talking at thesame time, thereby irritating him still more.

　　"Nor can I admit that the object of the law is the upholding ofthe present state of things. The law aims at reforming--"

　　"A nice kind of reform, in a prison!" Nekhludoff put in.

　　"Or removing," Rogozhinsky went on, persistently, "the pervertedand brutalised persons that threaten society."

　　"That's just what it doesn't do. Society has not the means ofdoing either the one thing or the other."

　　"How is that? I don't understand," said Rogozhinsky with a forcedsmile.

　　"I mean that only two reasonable kinds of punishment exist. Thoseused in the old days: corporal and capital punishment, which, ashuman nature gradually softens, come more and more into disuse,"said Nekhludoff.

　　"There, now, this is quite new and very strange to hear from yourlips."

　　"Yes, it is reasonable to hurt a man so that he should not do infuture what he is hurt for doing, and it is also quite reasonableto cut a man's head off when he is injurious or dangerous tosociety. These punishments have a reasonable meaning. But whatsense is there in locking up in a prison a man perverted by wantof occupation and bad example; to place him in a position wherehe is provided for, where laziness is imposed on him, and wherehe is in company with the most perverted of men? What reason isthere to take a man at public cost (it comes to more than 500roubles per head) from the Toula to the Irkoatsk government, orfrom Koursk--"

　　"Yes, but all the same, people are afraid of those journeys atpublic cost, and if it were not for such journeys and theprisons, you and I would not be sitting here as we are."

　　"The prisons cannot insure our safety, because these people donot stay there for ever, but are set free again. On the contrary,in those establishments men are brought to the greatest vice anddegradation, so that the danger is increased."

　　"You mean to say that the penitentiary system should beimproved."

　　"It cannot he improved. Improved prisons would cost more than allthat is being now spent on the people's education, and would laya still heavier burden on the people."

　　"The shortcomings of the penitentiary system in nowise invalidatethe law itself," Rogozhinsky continued again, without heeding hisbrother-in-law.

　　"There is no remedy for these shortcomings," said Nekhludoff,raising his voice.

　　"What of that? Shall we therefore go and kill, or, as a certainstatesman proposed, go putting out people's eyes?" Rogozhinskyremarked.

　　"Yes; that would be cruel, but it would be effective. What isdone now is cruel, and not only ineffective, but so stupid thatone cannot understand how people in their senses can take part inso absurd and cruel a business as criminal law."

　　"But I happen to take part in it," said Rogozhinsky, growingpale.

　　"That is your business. But to me it is incomprehensible."

　　"I think there are a good many things incomprehensible to you,"said Rogozhinsky, with a trembling voice.

　　"I have seen how one public prosecutor did his very best to getan unfortunate boy condemned, who could have evoked nothing butsympathy in an unperverted mind. I know how anothercross-examined a sectarian and put down the reading of theGospels as a criminal offence; in fact, the whole business of theLaw Courts consists in senseless and cruel actions of that sort."

　　"I should not serve if I thought so," said Rogozhinsky, rising.

　　Nekhludoff noticed a peculiar glitter under his brother-in-law'sspectacles. "Can it be tears?" he thought. And they were reallytears of injured pride. Rogozhinsky went up to the window, gotout his handkerchief, coughed and rubbed his spectacles, tookthem off, and wiped his eyes.

　　When he returned to the sofa he lit a cigar, and did not speakany more.

　　Nekhludoff felt pained and ashamed of having offended hisbrother-in-law and his sister to such a degree, especially as hewas going away the next day.

　　He parted with them in confusion, and drove home.

　　"All I have said may be true--anyhow he did not reply. But it wasnot said in the right way. How little I must have changed if Icould be carried away by ill-feeling to such an extent as to hurtand wound poor Nathalie in such a way!" he thought.

　　CHAPTER XXXIV.

　　THE PRISONERS START FOR SIBERIA.

　　The gang of prisoners, among whom was Maslova, was to leaveMoscow by rail at 3 p.m.; therefore, in order to see the gangstart, and walk to the station with the prisoners Nekhludoffmeant to reach the prison before 12 o'clock.

　　The night before, as he was packing up and sorting his papers, hecame upon his diary, and read some bits here and there. The lastbit written before he left for Petersburg ran thus: "Katushadoes not wish to accept my sacrifice; she wishes to make asacrifice herself. She has conquered, and so have I. She makes mehappy by the inner change, which seems to me, though I fear tobelieve it, to be going on in her. I fear to believe it, yet sheseems to be coming back to life." Then further on he read. "Ihave lived through something very hard and very joyful. I learntthat she has behaved very badly in the hospital, and I suddenlyfelt great pain. I never expected that it could be so painful. Ispoke to her with loathing and hatred, then all of a sudden Icalled to mind how many times I have been, and even still am,though but in thought, guilty of the thing that I hated her for,and immediately I became disgusting to myself, and pitied her andfelt happy again. If only we could manage to see the beam in ourown eye in time, how kind we should be." Then he wrote: "I havebeen to see Nathalie, and again self-satisfaction made me unkindand spiteful, and a heavy feeling remains. Well, what is to bedone? Tomorrow a new life will begin. A final good-bye to theold! Many new impressions have accumulated, but I cannot yetbring them to unity."

　　When he awoke the next morning Nekhludoff's first feeling wasregret about the affair between him and his brother-in-law.

　　"I cannot go away like this," he thought. "I must go and make itup with them." But when he looked at his watch he saw that he hadnot time to go, but must hurry so as not to be too late for thedeparture of the gang. He hastily got everything ready, and sentthe things to the station with a servant and Taras, Theodosia'shusband, who was going with them. Then he took the firstisvostchik he could find and drove off to the prison.

　　The prisoners' train started two hours before the train by whichhe was going, so Nekhludoff paid his bill in the lodgings andleft for good.

　　It was July, and the weather was unbearably hot. From the stones,the walls, the iron of the roofs, which the sultry night had notcooled, the beat streamed into the motionless air. When at rareintervals a slight breeze did arise, it brought but a whiff ofhot air filled with dust and smelling of oil paint.

　　There were few people in the streets, and those who were outtried to keep on the shady side. Only the sunburnt peasants, withtheir bronzed faces and bark shoes on their feet, who weremending the road, sat hammering the stones into the burning sandin the sun; while the policemen, in their holland blouses, withrevolvers fastened with orange cords, stood melancholy anddepressed in the middle of the road, changing from foot to foot;and the tramcars, the horses of which wore holland hoods on theirheads, with slits for the ears, kept passing up and down thesunny road with ringing bells.

　　When Nekhludoff drove up to the prison the gang had not left theyard. The work of delivering and receiving the prisoners that hadcommenced at 4 A.M. was still going on. The gang was to consistof 623 men and 64 women; they had all to be received according tothe registry lists. The sick and the weak to be sorted out, andall to be delivered to the convoy. The new inspector, with twoassistants, the doctor and medical assistant, the officer of theconvoy, and the clerk, were sitting in the prison yard at a tablecovered with writing materials and papers, which was placed inthe shade of a wall. They called the prisoners one by one,examined and questioned them, and took notes. The rays of the sunhad gradually reached the table, and it was growing very hot andoppressive for want of air and because of the breathing crowd ofprisoners that stood close by.

　　"Good gracious, will this never come to an end!" the convoyofficer, a tall, fat, red-faced man with high shoulders, who keptpuffing the smoke, of his cigarette into his thick moustache,asked, as he drew in a long puff. "You are killing me. From wherehave you got them all? Are there many more?" the clerk inquired.

　　"Twenty-four men and the women."

　　"What are you standing there for? Come on," shouted the convoyofficer to the prisoners who had not yet passed the revision, andwho stood crowded one behind the other. The prisoners had beenstanding there more than three hours, packed in rows in the fullsunlight, waiting their turns.

　　While this was going on in the prison yard, outside the gate,besides the sentinel who stood there as usual with a gun, weredrawn up about 20 carts, to carry the luggage of the prisonersand such prisoners as were too weak to walk, and a group ofrelatives and friends waiting to see the prisoners as they cameout and to exchange a few words if a chance presented itself andto give them a few things. Nekhludoff took his place among thegroup. He had stood there about an hour when the clanking ofchains, the noise of footsteps, authoritative voices, the soundof coughing, and the low murmur of a large crowd became audible.

　　This continued for about five minutes, during which severaljailers went in and out of the gateway. At last the word ofcommand was given. The gate opened with a thundering noise, theclattering of the chains became louder, and the convoy soldiers,dressed in white blouses and carrying guns, came out into thestreet and took their places in a large, exact circle in front ofthe gate; this was evidently a usual, often-practised manoeuvre.Then another command was given, and the prisoners began comingout in couples, with flat, pancake-shaped caps on their shavedheads and sacks over their shoulders, dragging their chained legsand swinging one arm, while the other held up a sack.

　　First came the men condemned to hard labour, all dressed alike ingrey trousers and cloaks with marks on the back. All ofthem--young and old, thin and fat, pale and red, dark and beardedand beardless, Russians, Tartars, and Jews--came out, clatteringwith their chains and briskly swinging their arms as if preparedto go a long distance, but stopped after having taken ten steps,and obediently took their places behind each other, four abreast.Then without interval streamed out more shaved men, dressed inthe same manner but with chains only on their legs. These werecondemned to exile. They came out as briskly and stopped assuddenly, taking their places four in a row. Then came thoseexiled by their Communes. Then the women in the same order, firstthose condemned to hard labour, with grey cloaks and kerchiefs;then the exiled women, and those following their husbands oftheir own free will, dressed in their own town or villageclothing. Some of the women were carrying babies wrapped in thefronts of their grey cloaks.

　　With the women came the children, boys and girls, who, like coltsin a herd of horses, pressed in among the prisoners.

　　The men took their places silently, only coughing now and then,or making short remarks.

　　The women talked without intermission. Nekhludoff thought he sawMaslova as they were coming out, but she was at once lost in thelarge crowd, and he could only see grey creatures, seeminglydevoid of all that was human, or at any rate of all that waswomanly, with sacks on their backs and children round them,taking their places behind the men.

　　Though all the prisoners had been counted inside the prisonwalls, the convoy counted them again, comparing the numbers withthe list. This took very long, especially as some of theprisoners moved and changed places, which confused the convoy.

　　The convoy soldiers shouted and pushed the prisoners (whocomplied obediently, but angrily) and counted them over again.When all had been counted, the convoy officer gave a command, andthe crowd became agitated. The weak men and women and childrenrushed, racing each other, towards the carts, and began placingtheir bags on the carts and climbing up themselves. Women withcrying babies, merry children quarrelling for places, and dull,careworn prisoners got into the carts.

　　Several of the prisoners took off their caps and came up to theconvoy officer with some request. Nekhludoff found out later thatthey were asking for places on the carts. Nekhludoff saw how theofficer, without looking at the prisoners, drew in a whiff fromhis cigarette, and then suddenly waved his short arm in front ofone of the prisoners, who quickly drew his shaved head backbetween his shoulders as if afraid of a blow, and sprang back.

　　"I will give you a lift such that you'll remember. You'll getthere on foot right enough," shouted the officer. Only one of themen was granted his request--an old man with chains on his legs;and Nekhludoff saw the old man take off his pancake-shaped cap,and go up to the cart crossing himself. He could not manage toget up on the cart because of the chains that prevented hislifting his old legs, and a woman who was sitting in the cart atlast pulled him in by the arm.

　　When all the sacks were in the carts, and those who were allowedto get in were seated, the officer took off his cap, wiped hisforehead, his bald head and fat, red neck, and crossed himself.

　　"March," commanded the officer. The soldiers' guns gave a click;the prisoners took off their caps and crossed themselves, thosewho were seeing them off shouted something, the prisoners shoutedin answer, a row arose among the women, and the gang, surroundedby the soldiers in their white blouses, moved forward, raisingthe dust with their chained feet. The soldiers went in front;then came the convicts condemned to hard labour, clattering withtheir chains; then the exiled and those exiled by the Communes,chained in couples by their wrists; then the women. After them,on the carts loaded with sacks, came the weak. High up on one ofthe carts sat a woman closely wrapped up, and she kept shriekingand sobbing.

　　CHAPTER XXXV.

　　NOT MEN BUT STRANGE AND TERRIBLE CREATURES?

　　The procession was such a long one that the carts with theluggage and the weak started only when those in front werealready out of sight. When the last of the carts moved,Nekhludoff got into the trap that stood waiting for him and toldthe isvostchik to catch up the prisoners in front, so that hecould see if he knew any of the men in the gang, and then try andfind out Maslova among the women and ask her if she had receivedthe things he sent.

　　It was very hot, and a cloud of dust that was raised by athousand tramping feet stood all the time over the gang that wasmoving down. the middle of the street. The prisoners were walkingquickly, and the slow-going isvostchik's horse was some time incatching them up. Row upon row they passed, those strange andterrible-looking creatures, none of whom Nekhludoff knew.

　　On they went, all dressed alike, moving a thousand feet all shodalike, swinging their free arms as if to keep up their spirits.There were so many of them, they all looked so much alike, andthey were all placed in such unusual, peculiar circumstances,that they seemed to Nekhludoff to be not men but some sort ofstrange and terrible creatures. This impression passed when herecognised in the crowd of convicts the murderer Federoff, andamong the exiles Okhotin the wit, and another tramp who hadappealed to him for assistance. Almost all the prisoners turnedand looked at the trap that was passing them and at the gentlemaninside. Federoff tossed his head backwards as a sign that he hadrecognised Nekhludoff, Okhotin winked, but neither of them bowed,considering it not the thing.

　　As soon as Nekhludoff came up to the women he saw Maslova; shewas in the second row. The first in the row was a short-legged,black-eyed, hideous woman, who had her cloak tucked up in hergirdle. This was Koroshavka. The next was a pregnant woman, whodragged herself along with difficulty. The third was Maslova; shewas carrying her sack on her shoulder, and looking straightbefore her. Her face looked calm and determined. The fourth inthe row was a young, lovely woman who was walking along briskly,dressed in a short cloak, her kerchief tied in peasant fashion.This was Theodosia.

　　Nekhludoff got down and approached the women, meaning to askMaslova if she had got the things he had sent her, and how shewas feeling, but the convoy sergeant, who was walking on thatside, noticed him at once, and ran towards him.

　　"You must not do that, sir. It is against the regulations toapproach the gang," shouted the sergeant as he came up.

　　But when he recognised Nekhludoff (every one in the prison knewNekhludoff) the sergeant raised his fingers to his cap, and,stopping in front of Nekhludoff, said: "Not now; wait till we getto the railway station; here it is not allowed. Don't lag behind;march!" he shouted to the convicts, and putting on a brisk air,he ran back to his place at a trot, in spite of the heat and theelegant new boots on his feet.

　　Nekhludoff went on to the pavement and told the isvostchik tofollow him; himself walking, so as to keep the convicts in sight.Wherever the gang passed it attracted attention mixed with horrorand compassion. Those who drove past leaned out of the vehiclesand followed the prisoners with their eyes. Those on foot stoppedand looked with fear and surprise at the terrible sight. Somecame up and gave alms to the prisoners. The alms were received bythe convoy. Some, as if they were hypnotised, followed the gang,but then stopped, shook their heads, and followed the prisonersonly with their eyes. Everywhere the people came out of the gatesand doors, and called others to come out, too, or leaned out ofthe windows looking, silent and immovable, at the frightfulprocession. At a cross-road a fine carriage was stopped by thegang. A fat coachman, with a shiny face and two rows of buttonson his back, sat on the box; a married couple sat facing thehorses, the wife, a pale, thin woman, with a light-colouredbonnet on her head and a bright sunshade in her hand, the husbandwith a top-hat and a well-cut light-coloured overcoat. On theseat in front sat their children--a well-dressed little girl,with loose, fair hair, and as fresh as a flower, who also held abright parasol, and an eight-year-old boy, with a long, thin neckand sharp collarbones, a sailor hat with long ribbons on hishead.

　　The father was angrily scolding the coachman because he had notpassed in front of the gang when he had a chance, and the motherfrowned and half closed her eyes with a look of disgust,shielding herself from the dust and the sun with her silksunshade, which she held close to her face.

　　The fat coachman frowned angrily at the unjust rebukes of hismaster--who had himself given the order to drive along thatstreet--and with difficulty held in the glossy, black horses,foaming under their harness and impatient to go on.

　　The policeman wished with all his soul to please the owner of thefine equipage by stopping the gang, yet felt that the dismalsolemnity of the procession could not be broken even for so richa gentleman. He only raised his fingers to his cap to show hisrespect for riches, and looked severely at the prisoners as ifpromising in any case to protect the owners of the carriage fromthem. So the carriage had to wait till the whole of theprocession had passed, and could only move on when the last ofthe carts, laden with sacks and prisoners, rattled by. Thehysterical woman who sat on one of the carts, and had grown calm,again began shrieking and sobbing when she saw the elegantcarriage. Then the coachman tightened the reins with a slighttouch, and the black trotters, their shoes ringing against thepaving stones, drew the carriage, softly swaying on its rubbertires, towards the country house where the husband, the wife, thegirl, and the boy with the sharp collar-bones were going to amusethemselves. Neither the father nor the mother gave the girl andboy any explanation of what they had seen, so that the childrenhad themselves to find out the meaning of this curious sight. Thegirl, taking the expression of her father's and mother's facesinto consideration, solved the problem by assuming that thesepeople were quite another kind of men and women than her fatherand mother and their acquaintances, that they were bad people,and that they had therefore to be treated in the manner they werebeing treated.

　　Therefore the girl felt nothing but fear, and was glad when shecould no longer see those people.

　　But the boy with the long, thin neck, who looked at theprocession of prisoners without taking his eyes off them, solvedthe question differently.

　　He still knew, firmly and without any doubt, for he had it fromGod, that these people were just the same kind of people as hewas, and like all other people, and therefore some one had donethese people some wrong, something that ought not to have beendone, and he was sorry for them, and felt no horror either ofthose who were shaved and chained or of those who had shaved andchained them. And so the boy's lips pouted more and more, and hemade greater and greater efforts not to cry, thinking it a shameto cry in such a case.

　　CHAPTER XXXVI.

　　THE TENDER MERCIES OF THE LORD.

　　Nekhludoff kept up with the quick pace of the convicts. Thoughlightly clothed he felt dreadfully hot, and it was hard tobreathe in the stifling, motionless, burning air filled withdust.

　　When he had walked about a quarter of a mile he again got intothe trap, but it felt still hotter in the middle of the street.He tried to recall last night's conversation with hisbrother-in-law, but the recollections no longer excited him asthey had done in the morning. They were dulled by the impressionsmade by the starting and procession of the gang, and chiefly bythe intolerable heat.

　　On the pavement, in the shade of some trees overhanging a fence,he saw two schoolboys standing over a kneeling man who sold ices.One of the boys was already sucking a pink spoon and enjoying hisices, the other was waiting for a glass that was being filledwith something yellowish.

　　"Where could I get a drink?" Nekhludoff asked his isvostchik,feeling an insurmountable desire for some refreshment.

　　"There is a good eating-house close by," the isvostchik answered,and turning a corner, drove up to a door with a large signboard.The plump clerk in a Russian shirt, who stood behind the counter,and the waiters in their once white clothing who sat at thetables (there being hardly any customers) looked with curiosityat the unusual visitor and offered him their services. Nekhludoffasked for a bottle of seltzer water and sat down some way fromthe window at a small table covered with a dirty cloth. Two mensat at another table with tea-things and a white bottle in frontof them, mopping their foreheads, and calculating something in afriendly manner. One of them was dark and bald, and had just sucha border of hair at the back as Rogozhinsky. This sight againreminded Nekhludoff of yesterday's talk with his brother-in-lawand his wish to see him and Nathalie.

　　"I shall hardly be able to do it before the train starts," hethought; "I'd better write." He asked for paper, an envelope, anda stamp, and as he was sipping the cool, effervescent water heconsidered what he should say. But his thoughts wandered, and hecould not manage to compose a letter.

　　My dear Nathalie,--I cannot go away with the heavy impressionthat yesterday's talk with your husband has left," he began."What next? Shall I ask him to forgive me what I said yesterday?But I only said what I felt, and he will think that I am takingit back. Besides, this interference of his in my private matters.. . No, I cannot," and again he felt hatred rising in his hearttowards that man so foreign to him. He folded the unfinishedletter and put it in his pocket, paid, went out, and again gotinto the trap to catch up the gang. It had grown still hotter.The stones and the walls seemed to be breathing out hot air. Thepavement seemed to scorch the feet, and Nekhludoff felt a burningsensation in his hand when he touched the lacquered splashguardof his trap.

　　The horse was jogging along at a weary trot, beating the uneven,dusty road monotonously with its hoofs, the isvostchik keptfalling into a doze, Nekhludoff sat without thinking of anything.

　　At the bottom of a street, in front of a large house, a group ofpeople had collected, and a convoy soldier stood by.

　　"What has happened?" Nekhludoff asked of a porter.

　　"Something the matter with a convict."

　　Nekhludoff got down and came up to the group. On the roughstones, where the pavement slanted down to the gutter, lay abroadly-built, red-bearded, elderly convict, with his head lowerthan his feet, and very red in the face. He had a grey cloak andgrey trousers on, and lay on his back with the palms of hisfreckled hands downwards, and at long intervals his broad, highchest heaved, and he groaned, while his bloodshot eyes were fixedon the sky. By him stood a cross-looking policeman, a pedlar, apostman, a clerk, an old woman with a parasol, and a short-hairedboy with an empty basket.

　　"They are weak. Having been locked up in prison they've got weak,and then they lead them through the most broiling heat," said theclerk, addressing Nekhludoff, who had just come up.

　　"He'll die, most likely," said the woman with the parasol, in adoleful tone.

　　"His shirt should be untied," said the postman.

　　The policeman began, with his thick, trembling fingers, clumsilyto untie the tapes that fastened the shirt round the red, sinewyneck. He was evidently excited and confused, but still thought itnecessary to address the crowd.

　　"What have you collected here for? It is hot enough without yourkeeping the wind off."

　　"They should have been examined by a doctor, and the weak onesleft behind," said the clerk, showing off his knowledge of thelaw.

　　The policeman, having undone the tapes of the shirt, rose andlooked round.

　　"Move on, I tell you. It is not your business, is it? What'sthere to stare at?" he said, and turned to Nekhludoff forsympathy, but not finding any in his face he turned to the convoysoldier.

　　But the soldier stood aside, examining the trodden-down heel ofhis boot, and was quite indifferent to the policeman'sperplexity.

　　"Those whose business it is don't care. Is it right to do men todeath like this? A convict is a convict, but still he is a man,"different voices were heard saying in the crowd.

　　"Put his head up higher, and give him some water," saidNekhludoff.

　　"Water has been sent for," said the policeman, and taking theprisoner under the arms he with difficulty pulled his body alittle higher up.

　　"What's this gathering here?" said a decided, authoritativevoice, and a police officer, with a wonderfully clean, shinyblouse, and still more shiny top-boots, came up to the assembledcrowd.

　　"Move on. No standing about here," he shouted to the crowd,before he knew what had attracted it.

　　When he came near and saw the dying convict, he made a sign ofapproval with his head, just as if he had quite expected it, and,turning to the policeman, said, "How is this?"

　　The policeman said that, as a gang of prisoners was passing, oneof the convicts had fallen down, and the convoy officer hadordered him to be left behind.

　　"Well, that's all right. He must be taken to the police station.Call an isvostchik."

　　"A porter has gone for one," said the policeman, with his fingersraised to his cap.

　　The shopman began something about the heat.

　　"Is it your business, eh? Move on," said the police officer, andlooked so severely at him that the clerk was silenced.

　　"He ought to have a little water," said Nekhludoff. The policeofficer looked severely at Nekhludoff also, but said nothing.When the porter brought a mug full of water, he told thepoliceman to offer some to the convict. The policeman raised thedrooping head, and tried to pour a little water down the mouth;but the prisoner could not swallow it, and it ran down his beard,wetting his jacket and his coarse, dirty linen shirt.

　　"Pour it on his head," ordered the officer; and the policemantook off the pancake-shaped cap and poured the water over the redcurls and bald part of the prisoner's head. His eyes opened wideas if in fear, but his position remained unchanged.

　　Streams of dirt trickled down his dusty face, but the mouthcontinued to gasp in the same regular way, and his whole bodyshook.

　　"And what's this? Take this one," said the police officer,pointing to Nekhludoff's isvostchik. "You, there, drive up.

　　"I am engaged," said the isvostchik, dismally, and withoutlooking up.

　　"It is my isvostchik; but take him. I will pay you," saidNekhludoff, turning to the isvostchik.

　　"Well, what are you waiting for?" shouted the officer. "Catchhold."

　　The policeman, the porter, and the convoy soldier lifted thedying man and carried him to the trap, and put him on the seat.But he could not sit up; his head fell back, and the whole of hisbody glided off the seat.

　　"Make him lie down," ordered the officer.

　　"It's all right, your honour; I'll manage him like this," saidthe policeman, sitting down by the dying man, and clasping hisstrong, right arm round the body under the arms. The convoysoldier lifted the stockingless feet, in prison shoes, and putthem into the trap.

　　The police officer looked around, and noticing the pancake-shapedhat of the convict lifted it up and put it on the wet, droopinghead.

　　"Go on," he ordered.

　　The isvostchik looked angrily round, shook his head, and,accompanied by the convoy soldier, drove back to the policestation. The policeman, sitting beside the convict, kept draggingup the body that was continually sliding down from the seat,while the head swung from side to side.

　　The convoy soldier, who was walking by the side of the trap, keptputting the legs in their place. Nekhludoff followed the trap.

　　CHAPTER XXXVII.

　　SPILLED LIKE WATER ON THE GROUND.

　　The trap passed the fireman who stood sentinel at the entrance,[the headquarters of the fire brigade and the police stations aregenerally together in Moscow] drove into the yard of the policestation, and stopped at one of the doors. In the yard severalfiremen with their sleeves tucked up were washing some kind ofcart and talking loudly. When the trap stopped, several policemensurrounded it, and taking the lifeless body of the convict underthe arms, took him out of the trap, which creaked under him. Thepoliceman who had brought the body got down, shook his numbedarm, took off his cap, and crossed himself. The body was carriedthrough the door and up the stairs. Nekhludoff followed. In thesmall, dirty room where the body was taken there stood four beds.On two of them sat a couple of sick men in dressing-gowns, onewith a crooked mouth, whose neck was bandaged, the other one inconsumption. Two of the beds were empty; the convict was laid onone of them. A little man, wish glistening eyes and continuallymoving brows, with only his underclothes and stockings on, cameup with quick, soft steps, looked at the convict and then at

　　Nekhludoff, and burst into loud laughter. This was a madman whowas being kept in the police hospital.

　　"They wish to frighten me, but no, they won't succeed," he said.

　　The policemen who carried the corpse were followed by a policeofficer and a medical assistant. The medical assistant came up tothe body and touched the freckled hand, already growing cold,which, though still soft, was deadly pale. He held it for amoment, and then let it go. It fell lifelessly on the stomach ofthe dead man.

　　"He's ready," said the medical assistant, but, evidently to bequite in order, he undid the wet, brown shirt, and tossing backthe curls from his ear, put it to the yellowish, broad, immovablechest of the convict. All were silent. The medical assistantraised himself again, shook his head, and touched with hisfingers first one and then the other lid over the open, fixedblue eyes.

　　"I'm not frightened, I'm not frightened." The madman keptrepeating these words, and spitting in the direction of themedical assistant.

　　"Well?" asked the police officer.

　　"Well! He must he put into the mortuary."

　　"Are you sure? Mind," said the police officer.

　　"It's time I should know," said the medical assistant, drawingthe shirt over the body's chest. "However, I will send forMathew Ivanovitch. Let him have a look. Petrov, call him," andthe medical assistant stepped away from the body.

　　"Take him to the mortuary," said the police officer. "And thenyou must come into the office and sign," he added to the convoysoldier, who had not left the convict for a moment.

　　"Yes, sir," said the soldier.

　　The policemen lifted the body and carried it down again.Nekhludoff wished to follow, but the madman kept him back.

　　"You are not in the plot! Well, then, give me a cigarette," hesaid. Nekhludoff got out his cigarette case and gave him one.

　　The madman, quickly moving his brows all the time, began relatinghow they tormented him by thought suggestion.

　　"Why, they are all against me, and torment and torture me throughtheir mediums."

　　"I beg your pardon," said Nekhludoff, and without listening anyfurther he left the room and went out into the yard, wishing toknow where the body would be put.

　　The policemen with their burden had already crossed the yard, andwere coming to the door of a cellar. Nekhludoff wished to go upto them, but the police officer stopped him.

　　"What do you want?"

　　"Nothing."

　　"Nothing? Then go away."

　　"Nekhludoff obeyed, and went back to his isvostchik, who wasdozing. He awoke him, and they drove back towards the railwaystation.

　　They had not made a hundred steps when they met a cartaccompanied by a convoy soldier with a gun. On the cart layanother convict, who was already dead. The convict lay on hisback in the cart, his shaved head, from which the pancake-shapedcap had slid over the black-bearded face down to the nose,shaking and thumping at every jolt. The driver, in his heavyboots, walked by the side of the cart, holding the reins; apoliceman followed on foot. Nekhludoff touched his isvostchik'sshoulder.

　　"Just look what they are doing," said the isvostchik, stoppinghis horse.

　　Nekhludoff got down and, following the cart, again passed thesentinel and entered the gate of the police station. By this timethe firemen had finished washing the cart, and a tall, bony man,the chief of the fire brigade, with a coloured band round hiscap, stood in their place, and, with his hands in his pockets,was severely looking at a fat-necked, well-fed, bay stallion thatwas being led up and down before him by a fireman. The stallionwas lame on one of his fore feet, and the chief of the firemenwas angrily saying something to a veterinary who stood by.

　　The police officer was also present. When he saw the cart he wentup to the convoy soldier.

　　"Where did you bring him from?" he asked, shaking his headdisapprovingly.

　　"From the Gorbatovskaya," answered the policeman.

　　"A prisoner?" asked the chief of the fire brigade.

　　"Yes. It's the second to-day."

　　"Well, I must say they've got some queer arrangements. Though ofcourse it's a broiling day," said the chief of the fire brigade;then, turning to the fireman who was leading the lame stallion,he shouted: "Put him into the corner stall. And as to you, youhound, I'll teach you how to cripple horses which are worth morethan you are, you scoundrel."

　　The dead man was taken from the cart by the policemen just in thesame way as the first had been, and carried upstairs into thehospital. Nekhludoff followed them as if he were hypnotised.

　　"What do you want?" asked one of the policemen. But Nekhludoffdid not answer, and followed where the body was being carried.The madman, sitting on a bed, was smoking greedily the cigaretteNekhludoff had given him.

　　"Ah, you've come back," he said, and laughed. When he saw thebody he made a face, and said, "Again! I am sick of it. I am nota boy, am I, eh?" and he turned to Nekhludoff with a questioningsmile.

　　Nekhludoff was looking at the dead man, whose face, which hadbeen hidden by his cap, was now visible. This convict was ashandsome in face and body as the other was hideous. He was a manin the full bloom of life. Notwithstanding that he was disfiguredby the half of his head being shaved, the straight, rather lowforehead, raised a bit over the black, lifeless eyes, was veryfine, and so was the nose above the thin, black moustaches. Therewas a smile on the lips that were already growing blue, a smallbeard outlined the lower part of the face, and on the shaved sideof the head a firm, well-shaped car was visible.

　　One could see what possibilities of a higher life had beendestroyed in this man. The fine bones of his hands and shackledfeet, the strong muscles of all his well-proportioned limbs,showed what a beautiful, strong, agile human animal this hadbeen. As an animal merely he had been a far more perfect one ofhis kind than the bay stallion, about the laming of which thefireman was so angry.

　　Yet he had been done to death, and no one was sorry for him as aman, nor was any one sorry that so fine a working animal hadperished. The only feeling evinced was that of annoyance becauseof the bother caused by the necessity of getting this body,threatening putrefaction, out of the way. The doctor and hisassistant entered the hospital, accompanied by the inspector ofthe police station. The doctor was a thick-set man, dressed inpongee silk coat and trousers of the same material, closelyfitting his muscular thighs. The inspector was a little fatfellow, with a red face, round as a ball, which he made stillbroader by a habit he had of filling his cheeks with air, andslowly letting it out again. The doctor sat down on the bed bythe side of the dead man, and touched the hands in the same wayas his assistant had done, put his ear to the heart, rose, andpulled his trousers straight. "Could not be more dead," he said.

　　The inspector filled his mouth with air and slowly blew it outagain.

　　"Which prison is he from?" he asked the convoy soldier.

　　The soldier told him, and reminded him of the chains on the deadman's feet.

　　"I'll have them taken off; we have got a smith about, the Lord bethanked," said the inspector, and blew up his cheeks again; hewent towards the door, slowly letting out the air.

　　"Why has this happened?" Nekhludoff asked the doctor.

　　The doctor looked at him through his spectacles.

　　"Why has what happened? Why they die of sunstroke, you mean? Thisis why: They sit all through the winter without exercise andwithout light, and suddenly they are taken out into the sunshine,and on a day like this, and they march in a crowd so that theyget no air, and sunstroke is the result."

　　"Then why are they sent out?"

　　"Oh, as to that, go and ask those who send them. But may I askwho are you?

　　"I am a stranger."

　　"Ah, well, good-afternoon; I have no time." The doctor was vexed;he gave his trousers a downward pull, and went towards the bedsof the sick.

　　"Well, how are you getting on?" he asked the pale man with thecrooked mouth and bandaged neck.

　　Meanwhile the madman sat on a bed, and having finished hiscigarette, kept spitting in the direction of the doctor.

　　Nekhludoff went down into the yard and out of the gate past thefiremen's horses and the hens and the sentinel in his brasshelmet, and got into the trap, the driver of which had againfallen asleep.

　　CHAPTER XXXVIII.

　　THE CONVICT TRAIN.

　　When Nekhludoff came to the station, the prisoners were allseated in railway carriages with grated windows. Several persons,come to see them off, stood on the platform, but were not allowedto come up to the carriages.

　　The convoy was much troubled that day. On the way from the prisonto the station, besides the two Nekhludoff had seen, three otherprisoners had fallen and died of sunstroke. One was taken to thenearest police station like the first two, and the other two diedat the railway station. [In Moscow, in the beginning of the eighthdecade of this century, five convicts died of sunstroke in oneday on their way from the Boutyrki prison to the Nijni railwaystation.] The convoy men were not troubled because five men whomight have been alive died while in their charge.  This did nottrouble them, but they were concerned lest anything that the lawrequired in such cases should be omitted. To convey the bodies tothe places appointed, to deliver up their papers, to take themoff the lists of those to be conveyed to Nijni--all this was verytroublesome, especially on so hot a day.

　　It was this that occupied the convoy men, and before it could allbe accomplished Nekhludoff and the others who asked for leave togo up to the carriages were not allowed to do so. Nekhludoff,however, was soon allowed to go up, because he tipped the convoysergeant. The sergeant let Nekhludoff pass, but asked him to bequick and get his talk over before any of the authoritiesnoticed. There were 15 carriages in all, and except one carriagefor the officials, they were full of prisoners. As Nekhludoffpassed the carriages he listened to what was going on in them. Inall the carriages was heard the clanging of chains, the sound ofbustle, mixed with loud and senseless language, but not a wordwas being said about their dead fellow-prisoners. The talk wasall about sacks, drinking water, and the choice of seats.

　　Looking into one of the carriages, Nekhludoff saw convoy soldierstaking the manacles off the hands of the prisoners. The prisonersheld out their arms, and one of the soldiers unlocked themanacles with a key and took them off; the other collected them.

　　After he had passed all the other carriages, Nekhludoff came upto the women's carriages. From the second of these he heard awoman's groans: "Oh, oh, oh! O God! Oh, oh! O God!"

　　Nekhludoff passed this carriage and went up to a window of thethird carriage, which a soldier pointed out to him. When heapproached his face to the window, he felt the hot air, filledwith the smell of perspiration, coming out of it, and hearddistinctly the shrill sound of women's voices. All the seats werefilled with red, perspiring, loudly-talking women, dressed inprison cloaks and white jackets. Nekhludoff's face at the windowattracted their attention. Those nearest ceased talking and drewcloser. Maslova, in her white jacket and her head uncovered, satby the opposite window. The white-skinned, smiling Theodosia sata little nearer. When she recognised Nekhludoff, she nudgedMaslova and pointed to the window. Maslova rose hurriedly, threwher kerchief over her black hair, and with a smile on her hot,red face came up to the window and took hold of one of the bars.

　　"Well, it is hot," she said, with a glad smile.

　　"Did you get the things?

　　"Yes, thank you."

　　"Is there anything more you want?" asked Nekhludoff, while theair came out of the hot carriage as out of an oven.

　　"I want nothing, thank you."

　　"If we could get a drink?" said Theodosia.

　　"Yes, if we could get a drink," repeated Maslova.

　　"Why, have you not got any water?"

　　"They put some in, but it is all gone."

　　"Directly, I will ask one of the convoy men. Now we shall not seeeach other till we get to Nijni."

　　"Why? Are you going?" said Maslova, as if she did not know it,and looked joyfully at Nekhludoff.

　　"I am going by the next train."

　　Maslova said nothing, but only sighed deeply.

　　"Is it true, sir, that 12 convicts have been done to death?" saida severe-looking old prisoner with a deep voice like a man's.

　　It was Korableva.

　　"I did not hear of 12; I have seen two," said Nekhludoff.

　　"They say there were 12 they killed. And will nothing be done tothem? Only think! The fiends!"

　　"And have none of the women fallen ill?" Nekhludoff asked.

　　"Women are stronger," said another of the prisoners--a shortlittle woman, and laughed; "only there's one that has taken itinto her head to be delivered. There she goes," she said,pointing to the next carriage, whence proceeded the groans.

　　"You ask if we want anything," said Maslova, trying to keep thesmile of joy from her lips; "could not this woman be left behind.suffering as she is? There, now, if you would tell theauthorities."

　　"Yes, I will."

　　"And one thing more; could she not see her husband, Taras?" sheadded, pointing with her eyes to the smiling Theodosia.

　　"He is going with you, is he not?"

　　"Sir, you must not talk," said a convoy sergeant, not the one whohad let Nekhludoff come up. Nekhludoff left the carriage and wentin search of an official to whom he might speak for the woman intravail and about Taras, but could not find him, nor get ananswer from any of the convoy for a long time. They were all in abustle; some were leading a prisoner somewhere or other, othersrunning to get themselves provisions, some were placing theirthings in the carriages or attending on a lady who was going toaccompany the convoy officer, and they answered Nekhludoff'squestions unwillingly. Nekhludoff found the convoy officer onlyafter the second bell had been rung. The officer with his shortarm was wiping the moustaches that covered his mouth andshrugging his shoulders, reproving the corporal for something orother.

　　"What is it you want?" he asked Nekhludoff.

　　You've got a woman there who is being confined, so I thoughtbest--"

　　"Well, let her be confined; we shall see later on," and brisklyswinging his short arms, he ran up to his carriage. At the momentthe guard passed with a whistle in his hand, and from the peopleon the platform and from the women's carriages there arose asound of weeping and words of prayer.

　　Nekhludoff stood on the platform by the side of Taras, and lookedhow, one after the other, the carriages glided past him, with theshaved heads of the men at the grated windows. Then the first ofthe women's carriages came up, with women's heads at the windows,some covered with kerchiefs and some uncovered, then the second,whence proceeded the same groans, then the carriage where Maslovawas. She stood with the others at the window, and looked atNekhludoff with a pathetic smile.

　　CHAPTER XXXIX.

　　BROTHER AND SISTER.

　　There were still two hours before the passenger train by whichNekhludoff was going would start. He had thought of using thisinterval to see his sister again; but after the impressions ofthe morning he felt much excited and so done up that, sittingdown on a sofa in the first-class refreshment-room, he suddenlygrew so drowsy that he turned over on to his side, and, layinghis face on his hand, fell asleep at once. A waiter in a dresscoat with a napkin in his hand woke him.

　　"Sir, sir, are you not Prince Nekhludoff? There's a lady lookingfor you."

　　Nekhludoff started up and recollected where he was and all thathad happened in the morning.

　　He saw in his imagination the procession of prisoners, the deadbodies, the railway carriages with barred windows, and the womenlocked up in them, one of whom was groaning in travail with noone to help her, and another who was pathetically smiling at himthrough the bars.

　　The reality before his eyes was very different, i.e., a tablewith vases, candlesticks and crockery, and agile waiters movinground the table, and in the background a cupboard and a counterladen with fruit and bottles, behind it a barman, and in frontthe backs of passengers who had come up for refreshments. WhenNekhludoff had risen and sat gradually collecting his thoughts,he noticed that everybody in the room was inquisitively lookingat something that was passing by the open doors.

　　He also looked, and saw a group of people carrying a chair onwhich sat a lady whose head was wrapped in a kind of airy fabric.

　　Nekhludoff thought he knew the footman who was supporting thechair in front. And also the man behind, and a doorkeeper withgold cord on his cap, seemed familiar. A lady's maid with afringe and an apron, who was carrying a parcel, a parasol, andsomething round in a leather case, was walking behind the chair.Then came Prince Korchagin, with his thick lips, apoplectic neck,and a travelling cap on his head; behind him Missy, her cousinMisha, and an acquaintance of Nekhludoff's--the long-neckeddiplomat Osten, with his protruding Adam's apple and hisunvarying merry mood and expression. He was saying something veryemphatically, though jokingly, to the smiling Missy. TheKorchagins were moving from their estate near the city to theestate of the Princess's sister on the Nijni railway. Theprocession--the men carrying the chair, the maid, and thedoctor--vanished into the ladies' waiting-room, evoking a feelingof curiosity and respect in the onlookers. But the old Princeremained and sat down at the table, called a waiter, and orderedfood and drink. Missy and Osten also remained in therefreshment-room and were about to sit down, when they saw anacquaintance in the doorway, and went up to her. It was NathalieRogozhinsky. Nathalie came into the refreshment-room accompaniedby Agraphena Petrovna, and both looked round the room. Nathalienoticed at one and the same moment both her brother and Missy.She first went up to Missy, only nodding to her brother; but,having kissed her, at once turned to him.

　　"At last I have found you," she said. Nekhludoff rose to greetMissy, Misha, and Osten, and to say a few words to them. Missytold him about their house in the country having been burnt down,which necessitated their moving to her aunt's. Osten beganrelating a funny story about a fire. Nekhludoff paid noattention, and turned to his sister.

　　"How glad I am that you have come."

　　"I have been here a long time," she said. "Agraphena Petrovna iswith me." And she pointed to Agraphena Petrovna, who, in awaterproof and with a bonnet on her head, stood some way off, andbowed to him with kindly dignity and some confusion, not wishingto intrude.

　　"We looked for you everywhere."

　　"And I had fallen asleep here. How glad I am that you have come,"repeated Nekhludoff. "I had begun to write to you."

　　"Really?" she said, looking frightened. "What about?"

　　Missy and the gentleman, noticing that an intimate conversationwas about to commence between the brother and sister, went away.Nekhludoff and his sister sat down by the window on avelvet-covered sofa, on which lay a plaid, a box, and a few otherthings.

　　"Yesterday, after I left you, I felt inclined to return andexpress my regret, but I did not know how he would take it," saidNekhludoff. "I spoke hastily to your husband, and this tormentedme."

　　"I knew," said his sister, "that you did not mean to. Oh, youknow!" and the tears came to her eyes, and she touched his hand.The sentence was not clear, but he understood it perfectly, andwas touched by what it expressed. Her words meant that, besidesthe love for her husband which held her in its sway, she prizedand considered important the love she had for him, her brother,and that every misunderstanding between them caused her deepsuffering.

　　"Thank you, thank you. Oh! what I have seen to-day!" he said,suddenly recalling the second of the dead convicts. "Twoprisoners have been done to death."

　　"Done to death? How?"

　　"Yes, done to death. They led them in this heat, and two died ofsunstroke."

　　"Impossible! What, to-day? just now?"

　　"Yes, just now. I have seen their bodies."

　　"But why done to death? Who killed them?" asked Nathalie.

　　"They who forced them to go killed them," said Nekhludoff, withirritation, feeling that she looked at this, too, with herhusband's eyes.

　　"Oh, Lord!" said Agraphena Petrovna, who had come up to them.

　　"Yes, we have not the slightest idea of what is being done tothese unfortunate beings. But it ought to be known," addedNekhludoff, and looked at old Korchagin, who sat with a napkintied round him and a bottle before him, and who looked round atNekhludoff.

　　"Nekhludoff," he called out, "won't you join me and take somerefreshment? It is excellent before a journey."

　　Nekhludoff refused, and turned away.

　　"But what are you going to do?" Nathalie continued.

　　"What I can. I don't know, but I feel I must do something. And Ishall do what I am able to."

　　"Yes, I understand. And how about them?" she continued, with asmile and a look towards Korchagin. "Is it possible that it isall over?"

　　"Completely, and I think without any regret on either side."

　　"It is a pity. I am sorry. I am fond of her. However, it's allright. But why do you wish to bind yourself?" she added shyly."Why are you going?"

　　"I go because I must," answered Nekhludoff, seriously and dryly,as if wishing to stop this conversation. But he felt ashamed ofhis coldness towards his sister at once. "Why not tell her all Iam thinking?" he thought, "and let Agraphena Petrovna also hearit," he thought, with a look at the old servant, whose presencemade the wish to repeat his decision to his sister even stronger.

　　"You mean my intention to marry Katusha? Well, you see, I made upmy mind to do it, but she refuses definitely and firmly," hesaid, and his voice shook, as it always did when he spoke of it."She does not wish to accept my sacrifice, but is herselfsacrificing what in her position means much, and I cannot acceptthis sacrifice, if it is only a momentary impulse. And so I amgoing with her, and shall be where she is, and shall try tolighten her fate as much as I can."

　　Nathalie said nothing. Agraphena Petrovna looked at her with aquestioning look, and shook her head. At this moment the formerprocession issued from the ladies' room. The same handsomefootman (Philip). and the doorkeeper were carrying the PrincessKorchagin. She stopped the men who were carrying her, andmotioned to Nekhludoff to approach, and, with a pitiful,languishing air, she extended her white, ringed hand, expectingthe firm pressure of his hand with a sense of horror.

　　"Epouvantable!" she said, meaning the heat. "I cannot stand it!Ce climat me tue!" And, after a short talk about the horrors ofthe Russian climate, she gave the men a sign to go on.

　　"Be sure and come," she added, turning her long face towardsNekhludoff as she was borne away.

　　The procession with the Princess turned to the right towards thefirst-class carriages. Nekhludoff, with the porter who wascarrying his things, and Taras with his bag, turned to the left.

　　"This is my companion," said Nekhludoff to his sister, pointingto Taras, whose story he had told her before.

　　"Surely not third class?" said Nathalie, when Nekhludoff stoppedin front of a third-class carriage, and Taras and the porter withthe things went in.

　　"Yes; it is more convenient for me to be with Taras," he said."One thing more," he added; "up to now I have not given theKousminski land to the peasants; so that, in case of my death,your children will inherit it."

　　"Dmitri, don't!" said Nathalie.

　　"If I do give it away, all I can say is that the rest will betheirs, as it is not likely I shall marry; and if I do marry Ishall have no children, so that--"

　　"Dmitri, don't talk like that!" said Nathalie. And yet Nekhludoffnoticed that she was glad to hear him say it.

　　Higher up, by the side of a first-class carriage, there stood agroup of people still looking at the carriage into which thePrincess Korchagin had been carried. Most of the passengers werealready seated. Some of the late comers hurriedly clattered alongthe boards of the platform, the guard was closing the doors andasking the passengers to get in and those who were seeing themoff to come out.

　　Nekhludoff entered the hot, smelling carriage, but at oncestepped out again on to the small platform at the back of thecarriage. Nathalie stood opposite the carriage, with herfashionable bonnet and cape, by the side of Agraphena Petrovna,and was evidently trying to find something to say.

　　She could not even say ecrivez, because they had long ago laughedat this word, habitually spoken by those about to part. The shortconversation about money matters had in a moment destroyed thetender brotherly and sisterly feelings that had taken hold ofthem. They felt estranged, so that Nathalie was glad when thetrain moved; and she could only say, nodding her head with a sadand tender look, "Goodbye, good-bye, Dmitri." But as soon as thecarriage had passed her she thought of how she should repeat herconversation with her brother to her husband, and her face becameserious and troubled.

　　Nekhludoff, too, though he had nothing but the kindest feelingsfor his sister, and had hidden nothing from her, now feltdepressed and uncomfortable with her, and was glad to part. Hefelt that the Nathalie who was once so near to him no longerexisted, and in her place was only a slave of that hairy,unpleasant husband, who was so foreign to him. He saw it clearlywhen her face lit up with peculiar animation as he spoke of whatwould peculiarly interest her husband, i.e., the giving up of theland to the peasants and the inheritance.

　　And this made him sad.

　　CHAPTER XL.

　　THE FUNDAMENTAL LAW OF HUMAN LIFE.

　　The heat in the large third-class carriage, which had beenstanding in the burning sun all day, was so great that Nekhludoffdid not go in, but stopped on the little platform behind thecarriage which formed a passage to the next one. But there wasnot a breath of fresh air here either, and Nekhludoff breathedfreely only when the train had passed the buildings and thedraught blew across the platform.

　　"Yes, killed," he repeated to himself, the words he had used tohis sister. And in his imagination in the midst of all otherimpressions there arose with wonderful clearness the beautifulface of the second dead convict, with the smile of the lips, thesevere expression of the brows, and the small, firm ear below theshaved bluish skull.

　　And what seemed terrible was that he had been murdered, and noone knew who had murdered him. Yet he had been murdered. He wasled out like all the rest of the prisoners by Maslennikoff'sorders. Maslennikoff had probably given the order in the usualmanner, had signed with his stupid flourish the paper with theprinted heading, and most certainly would not consider himselfguilty. Still less would the careful doctor who examined theconvicts consider himself guilty. He had performed his dutyaccurately, and had separated the weak. How could he haveforeseen this terrible heat, or the fact that they would start solate in the day and in such crowds? The prison inspector? But theinspector had only carried into execution the order that on agiven day a certain number of exiles and convicts--men andwomen--had to be sent off. The convoy officer could not be guiltyeither, for his business was to receive a certain number ofpersons in a certain place, and to deliver up the same number.He conducted them in the usual manner, and could not foresee thattwo such strong men as those Nekhludoff saw would not be able tostand it and would die. No one is guilty, and yet the men havebeen murdered by these people who are not guilty of their murder.

　　"All this comes," Nekhludoff thought, "from the fact that allthese people, governors, inspectors, police officers, and men,consider that there are circumstances in which human relationsare not necessary between human beings. All these men,Maslennikoff, and the inspector, and the convoy officer, if theywere not governor, inspector, officer, would have consideredtwenty times before sending people in such heat in such amass--would have stopped twenty times on the way, and, seeingthat a man was growing weak, gasping for breath, would have ledhim into the shade, would have given him water and let him rest,and if an accident had still occurred they would have expressedpity. But they not only did not do it, but hindered others fromdoing it, because they considered not men and their duty towardsthem but only the office they themselves filled, and held whatthat office demanded of them to be above human relations. "That'swhat it is," Nekhludoff went on in his thoughts. "If oneacknowledges but for a single hour that anything can be moreimportant than love for one's fellowmen, even in some oneexceptional case, any crime can be committed without a feeling ofguilt."

　　Nekhludoff was so engrossed by his thoughts that he did notnotice how the weather changed. The sun was covered over by alow-hanging, ragged cloud. A compact, light grey cloud wasrapidly coming from the west, and was already falling in heavy,driving rain on the fields and woods far in the distance.Moisture, coming from the cloud, mixed with the air. Now and thenthe cloud was rent by flashes of lightning, and peals of thundermingled more and more often with the rattling of the train. Thecloud came nearer and nearer, the rain-drops driven by the windbegan to spot the platform and Nekhludoff's coat; and he steppedto the other side of the little platform, and, inhaling thefresh, moist air--filled with the smell of corn and wet earththat had long been waiting for rain--he stood looking at thegardens, the woods, the yellow rye fields, the green oatfields,the dark-green strips of potatoes in bloom, that glided past.Everything looked as if covered over with varnish--the greenturned greener, the yellow yellower, the black blacker.

　　"More! more!" said Nekhludoff, gladdened by the sight of gardensand fields revived by the beneficent shower. The shower did notlast long. Part of the cloud had come down in rain, part passedover, and the last fine drops fell straight on to the earth. Thesun reappeared, everything began to glisten, and in the east--notvery high above the horizon--appeared a bright rainbow, with theviolet tint very distinct and broken only at one end.

　　"Why, what was I thinking about?" Nekhludoff asked himself whenall these changes in nature were over, and the train ran into acutting between two high banks.

　　"Oh! I was thinking that all those people (inspector, convoymen--all those in the service) are for the greater part kindpeople--cruel only because they are serving." He recalledMaslennikoff's indifference when he told him about what was beingdone in the prison, the inspector's severity, the cruelty of theconvoy officer when he refused places on the carts to those whoasked for them, and paid no attention to the fact that there wasa woman in travail in the train. All these people were evidentlyinvulnerable and impregnable to the simplest feelings ofcompassion only because they held offices. "As officials theywere impermeable to the feelings of humanity, as this pavedground is impermeable to the rain." Thus thought Nekhludoff as helooked at the railway embankment paved with stones of differentcolours, down which the water was running in streams instead ofsoaking into the earth. "Perhaps it is necessary to pave thebanks with stones, but it is sad to look at the ground, whichmight be yielding corn, grass, bushes, or trees in the same wayas the ground visible up there is doing--deprived of vegetation,and so it is with men," thought Nekhludoff. "Perhaps thesegovernors, inspectors, policemen, are needed, but it is terribleto see men deprived of the chief human attribute, that of loveand sympathy for one another. The thing is," he continued, "thatthese people consider lawful what is not lawful, and do notconsider the eternal, immutable law, written in the hearts of menby God, as law. That is why I feel so depressed when I am withthese people. I am simply afraid of them, and really they areterrible, more terrible than robbers. A robber might, after all,feel pity, but they can feel no pity, they are inured againstpity as these stones are against vegetation. That is what makesthem terrible. It is said that the Pougatcheffs, the Razins[leaders of rebellions in Russia: Stonka Razin in the 17th andPougatcheff in the 18th century] are terrible. These are athousand times more terrible," he continued, in his thoughts. "Ifa psychological problem were set to find means of making men ofour time--Christian, humane, simple, kind people--perform themost horrible crimes without feeling guilty, only one solutioncould be devised: to go on doing what is being done. It is onlynecessary that these people should he governors, inspectors,policemen; that they should be fully convinced that there is akind of business, called government service, which allows men totreat other men as things, without human brotherly relations withthem, and also that these people should be so linked together bythis government service that the responsibility for the resultsof their actions should not fall on any one of them separately.Without these conditions, the terrible acts I witnessed to-daywould be impossible in our times. It all lies in the fact thatmen think there are circumstances in which one may deal withhuman beings without love; and there are no such circumstances.One may deal with things without love. one may cut down trees,make bricks, hammer iron without love; but you cannot deal withmen without it, just as one cannot deal with bees without beingcareful. If you deal carelessly with bees you will injure them,and will yourself be injured. And so with men. It cannot beotherwise, because natural love is the fundamental law of humanlife. It is true that a man cannot force another to love him, ashe can force him to work for him; but it does not follow that aman may deal with men without love, especially to demand anythingfrom them.  If you feel no love, sit still," Nekhludoff thought;"occupy yourself with things, with yourself, with anything youlike, only not with men. You can only eat without injuringyourself when you feel inclined to eat, so you can only deal withmen usefully when you love. Only let yourself deal with a manwithout love, as I did yesterday with my brother-in-law, andthere are no limits to the suffering you will bring on yourself,as all my life proves.  Yes, yes, it is so," thought Nekhludoff;"it is good; yes, it is good," he repeated, enjoying thefreshness after the torturing heat, and conscious of havingattained to the fullest clearness on a question that had longoccupied him.

　　CHAPTER XLI.

　　TARAS'S STORY.

　　The carriage in which Nekhludoff had taken his place was halffilled with people. There were in it servants, working men,factory hands, butchers, Jews, shopmen, workmen's wives, asoldier, two ladies, a young one and an old one with bracelets onher arm, and a severe-looking gentleman with a cockade on hisblack cap. All these people were sitting quietly; the bustle oftaking their places was long over; some sat cracking and eatingsunflower seeds, some smoking, some talking.

　　Taras sat, looking very happy, opposite the door, keeping a placefor Nekhludoff, and carrying on an animated conversation with aman in a cloth coat who sat opposite to him, and who was, asNekhludoff afterwards found out, a gardener going to a newsituation. Before reaching the place where Taras sat Nekhludoffstopped between the seats near a reverend-looking old man with awhite beard and nankeen coat, who was talking with a young womanin peasant dress. A little girl of about seven, dressed in a newpeasant costume, sat, her little legs dangling above the floor,by the side of the woman, and kept cracking seeds.

　　The old man turned round, and, seeing Nekhludoff, he moved thelappets of his coat off the varnished seat next to him, and said,in a friendly manner:

　　"Please, here's a seat."

　　Nekhludoff thanked him, and took the seat. As soon as he wasseated the woman continued the interrupted conversation.

　　She was returning to her village, and related how her husband,whom she had been visiting, had received her in town.

　　"I was there during the carnival, and now, by the Lord's help,I've been again," she said. "Then, God willing, at Christmas I'llgo again."

　　"That's right," said the old man, with a look at Nekhludoff,"it's the best way to go and see him, else a young man can easilygo to the bad, living in a town."

　　"Oh, no, sir, mine is not such a man. No nonsense of any kindabout him; his life is as good as a young maiden's. The money heearns he sends home all to a copeck. And, as to our girl here, hewas so glad to see her, there are no words for it," said thewoman, and smiled.

　　The little girl, who sat cracking her seeds and spitting out theshells, listened to her mother's words, and, as if to confirmthem, looked up with calm, intelligent eyes into Nekhludoff's andthe old man's faces.

　　"Well, if he's good, that's better still," said the old man."And none of that sort of thing?" he added, with a look at acouple, evidently factory hands, who sat at the other side of thecarriage. The husband, with his head thrown back, was pouringvodka down his throat out of a bottle, and the wife sat holding abag, out of which they had taken the bottle, and watched himintently.

　　"No, mine neither drinks nor smokes," said the woman who wasconversing with the old man, glad of the opportunity of praisingher husband once more. "No, sir, the earth does not hold manysuch." And, turning to Nekhludoff, she added, "That's the sortof man he is."

　　"What could be better," said the old man, looking at the factoryworker, who had had his drink and had passed the bottle to hiswife. The wife laughed, shook her head, and also raised thebottle to her lips.

　　Noticing Nekhludoff's and the old man's look directed towardsthem, the factory worker addressed the former.

　　"What is it, sir? That we are drinking? Ah, no one sees how wework, but every one sees how we drink. I have earned it, and I amdrinking and treating my wife, and no one else."

　　"Yes, yes," said Nekhludoff, not knowing what to say.

　　"True, sir. My wife is a steady woman. I am satisfied with mywife, because she can feel for me. Is it right what I'm saying,Mavra?"

　　"There you are, take it, I don't want any more," said the wife,returning the bottle to him. "And what are you jawing for likethat?" she added.

　　"There now! She's good--that good; and suddenly she'll beginsqueaking like a wheel that's not greased. Mavra, is it rightwhat I'm saying?"

　　Mavra laughed and moved her hand with a tipsy gesture.

　　"Oh, my, he's at it again."

　　"There now, she's that good--that good; but let her get her tailover the reins, and you can't think what she'll be up to. . . .Is it right what I'm saying? You must excuse me, sir, I've had adrop! What's to be done?" said the factory worker, and, preparingto go to sleep, put his head in his wife's lap.

　　Nekhludoff sat a while with the old man, who told him all abouthimself. The old man was a stove builder, who had been workingfor 53 years, and had built so many stoves that he had lostcount, and now he wanted to rest, but had no time. He had been totown and found employment for the young ones, and was now goingto the country to see the people at home. After hearing the oldman's story, Nekhludoff went to the place that Taras was keepingfor him

　　"It's all right, sir; sit down; we'll put the bag here, said thegardener, who sat opposite Taras, in a friendly tone, looking upinto Nekhludoff's face.

　　"Rather a tight fit, but no matter since we are friends," saidTaras, smiling, and lifting the bag, which weighed more than fivestone, as if it were a feather, he carried it across to thewindow.

　　"Plenty of room; besides, we might stand up a bit; and even underthe seat it's as comfortable as you could wish. What's the goodof humbugging?" he said, beaming with friendliness and kindness.

　　Taras spoke of himself as being unable to utter a word when quitesober; but drink, he said, helped him to find the right words,and then he could express everything. And in reality, when he wassober Taras kept silent; but when he had been drinking, whichhappened rarely and only on special occasions, he became verypleasantly talkative. Then he spoke a great deal, spoke well andvery simply and truthfully, and especially with great kindliness,which shone in his gentle, blue eyes and in the friendly smilethat never left his lips. He was in such a state to-day.Nekhludoff's approach interrupted the conversation; but when hehad put the bag in its place, Taras sat down again, and with hisstrong hands folded in his lap, and looking straight into thegardener's face, continued his story. He was telling his newacquaintance about his wife and giving every detail: what she wasbeing sent to Siberia for, and why he was now following her.Nekhludoff had never heard a detailed account of this affair, andso he listened with interest. When he came up, the story hadreached the point when the attempt to poison was already anaccomplished fact, and the family had discovered that it wasTheodosia's doing.

　　"It's about my troubles that I'm talking," said Taras, addressingNekhludoff with cordial friendliness. "I have chanced to comeacross such a hearty man, and we've got into conversation, andI'm telling him all."

　　"I see," said Nekhludoff.

　　"Well, then in this way, my friend, the business became known.Mother, she takes that cake. 'I'm going,' says she, 'to thepolice officer.' My father is a just old man. 'Wait, wife,' sayshe, 'the little woman is a mere child, and did not herself knowwhat she was doing. We must have pity. She may come to hersenses.' But, dear me, mother would not hear of it. 'While wekeep her here,' she says, 'she may destroy us all likecockroaches.' Well, friend, so she goes off for the policeofficer. He bounces in upon us at once. Calls for witnesses."

　　"Well, and you?" asked the gardener.

　　"Well, I, you see, friend, roll about with the pain in mystomach, and vomit. All my inside is turned inside out; I can'teven speak. Well, so father he goes and harnesses the mare, andputs Theodosia into the cart, and is off to the police-station,and then to the magistrate's. And she, you know, just as she haddone from the first, so also there, confesses all to themagistrate--where she got the arsenic, and how she kneaded thecake. 'Why did you do it?' says he. 'Why,' says she, 'becausehe's hateful to me. I prefer Siberia to a life with him.' That'sme," and Taras smiled.

　　"Well, so she confessed all. Then, naturally--the prison, andfather returns alone. And harvest time just coming, and motherthe only woman at home, and she no longer strong. So we thinkwhat we are to do. Could we not bail her out? So father went tosee an official. No go. Then another. I think he went to five ofthem, and we thought of giving it up. Then we happened to comeacross a clerk--such an artful one as you don't often find. 'Yougive me five roubles, and I'll get her out,' says he. He agreedto do it for three. Well, and what do you think, friend? I wentand pawned the linen she herself had woven, and gave him themoney. As soon as he had written that paper," drawled out Taras,just as if he were speaking of a shot being fired, "we succeededat once. I went to fetch her myself. Well, friend, so I got totown, put up the mare, took the paper, and went to the prison.'What do you want?' 'This is what I want,' say I, 'you've got mywife here in prison.' 'And have you got a paper?' I gave him thepaper. He gave it a look. 'Wait,' says he. So I sat down on abench. It was already past noon by the sun. An official comesout. 'You are Vargoushoff?' 'I am.' 'Well, you may take her.' Thegates opened, and they led her out in her own clothes quite allright. 'Well, come along. Have you come on foot?' 'No, I have thehorse here.' So I went and paid the ostler, and harnessed, put inall the hay that was left, and covered it with sacking for her tosit on. She got in and wrapped her shawl round her, and off wedrove. She says nothing and I say nothing. just as we were comingup to the house she says, 'And how's mother; is she alive?' 'Yes,she's alive.' 'And father; is he alive? 'Yes, he is.' 'Forgiveme, Taras,' she says, 'for my folly. I did not myself know what Iwas doing.' So I say, 'Words won't mend matters. I have forgivenyou long ago,' and I said no more. We got home, and she just fellat mother's feet. Mother says, 'The Lord will forgive you.' Andfather said, 'How d'you do?' and 'What's past is past. Live asbest you can. Now,' says he, 'is not the time for all that;there's the harvest to be gathered in down at Skorodino,' hesays. 'Down on the manured acre, by the Lord's help, the groundhas borne such rye that the sickle can't tackle it. It's allinterwoven and heavy, and has sunk beneath its weight; that mustbe reaped. You and Taras had better go and see to it to-morrow.'Well, friend, from that moment she took to the work and worked sothat every one wondered. At that time we rented three desiatins,and by God's help we had a wonderful crop both of oats and rye. Imow and she binds the sheaves, and sometimes we both of us reap.I am good at work and not afraid of it, but she's better still atwhatever she takes up. She's a smart woman, young, and full oflife; and as to work, friend, she'd grown that eager that I hadto stop her. We get home, our fingers swollen, our arms aching,and she, instead of resting, rushes off to the barn to makebinders for the sheaves for next day. Such a change!"

　　"Well, and to you? Was she kinder, now?" asked the gardener.

　　"That's beyond question. She clings to me as if we were one soul.Whatever I think she understands. Even mother, angry as she was,could not help saying: 'It's as if our Theodosia had beentransformed; she's quite a different woman now!' We were oncegoing to cart the sheaves with two carts. She and I were in thefirst, and I say, 'How could you think of doing that, Theodosia?'and she says, 'How could I think of it? just so, I did not wishto live with you. I thought I'd rather die than live with you!' Isay, 'And now?' and she says, 'Now you're in my heart!'" Tarasstopped, and smiled joyfully, shook his head as if surprised."Hardly had we got the harvest home when I went to soak the hemp,and when I got home there was a summons, she must go to be tried,and we had forgotten all about the matter that she was to betried for."

　　"It can only be the evil one," said the gardener. "Could any manof himself think of destroying a living soul? We had a fellowonce--" and the gardener was about to commence his tale when thetrain began to stop.

　　"It seems we are coming to a station," he said. "I'll go and havea drink."

　　The conversation stopped, and Nekhludoff followed the gardenerout of the carriage onto the wet platform of the station.

　　CHAPTER XLII.

　　LE VRAI GRAND MONDE.

　　Before Nekhludoff got out he had noticed in the station yardseveral elegant equipages, some with three, some with four,well-fed horses, with tinkling bells on their harness. When hestepped out on the wet, dark-coloured boards of the platform, hesaw a group of people in front of the first-class carriage, amongwhom were conspicuous a stout lady with costly feathers on herhat, and a waterproof, and a tall, thin-legged young man in acycling suit. The young man had by his side an enormous, well-feddog, with a valuable collar. Behind them stood footmen, holdingwraps and umbrellas, and a coachman, who had also come to meetthe train.

　　On the whole of the group, from the fat lady down to the coachmanwho stood holding up his long coat, there lay the stamp of wealthand quiet self-assurance. A curious and servile crowd rapidlygathered round this group--the station-master, in his red cap, agendarme, a thin young lady in a Russian costume, with beadsround her neck, who made a point of seeing the trains come in allthrough the summer, a telegraph clerk, and passengers, men andwomen.

　　In the young man with the dog Nekhludoff recognised youngKorchagin, a gymnasium student. The fat lady was the Princess'ssister, to whose estate the Korchagins were now moving. Theguard, with his gold cord and shiny top-boots, opened the carriagedoor and stood holding it as a sign of deference, while Philipand a porter with a white apron carefully carried out thelong-faced Princess in her folding chair. The sisters greetedeach other, and French sentences began flying about. Would thePrincess go in a closed or an open carriage? At last theprocession started towards the exit, the lady's maid, with hercurly fringe, parasol and leather case in the rear.

　　Nekhludoff not wishing to meet them and to have to take leaveover again, stopped before he got to the door, waiting for theprocession to pass.

　　The Princess, her son, Missy, the doctor, and the maid went outfirst, the old Prince and his sister-in-law remained behind.Nekhludoff was too far to catch anything but a few disconnectedFrench sentences of their conversation One of the sentencesuttered by the Prince, as it often happens, for someunaccountable reason remained in his memory with all itsintonations and the sound of the voice.

　　"Oh, il est du vrai grand monde, du vrai grand monde," said thePrince in his loud, self-assured tone as he went out of thestation with his sister-in-law, accompanied by the respectfulguards and porters.

　　At this moment from behind the corner of the station suddenlyappeared a crowd of workmen in bark shoes, wearing sheepskincoats and carrying bags on their backs. The workmen went up tothe nearest carriage with soft yet determined steps, and wereabout to get in, but were at once driven away by a guard. Withoutstopping, the workmen passed on, hurrying and jostling oneanother, to the next carriage and began getting in, catchingtheir bags against the corners and door of the carriage, butanother guard caught sight of them from the door of the station,and shouted at them severely. The workmen, who had already gotin, hurried out again and went on, with the same soft and firmsteps, still further towards Nekhludoff's carriage. A guard wasagain going to stop them, but Nekhludoff said there was plenty ofroom inside, and that they had better get in. They obeyed and gotin, followed by Nekhludoff.

　　The workmen were about to take their seats, when the gentlemanwith the cockade and the two ladies, looking at this attempt tosettle in their carriage as a personal insult to themselves,indignantly protested and wanted to turn them out. Theworkmen--there were 20 of them, old men and quite young ones, allof them wearied, sunburnt, with haggard faces--began at once tomove on through the carriage, catching the seats, the walls, andthe doors with their bags. They evidently felt they had offendedin some way, and seemed ready to go on indefinitely wherever theywere ordered to go.

　　"Where are you pushing to, you fiends? Sit down here," shoutedanother guard they met.

　　"Voild encore des nouvelles," exclaimed the younger of the twoladies, quite convinced that she would attract Nekhludoff'snotice by her good French.

　　The other lady with the bracelets kept sniffing and making faces,and remarked something about how pleasant it was to sit withsmelly peasants.

　　The workmen, who felt the joy and calm experienced by people whohave escaped some kind of danger, threw off their heavy bags witha movement of their shoulders and stowed them away under theseats.

　　The gardener had left his own seat to talk with Taras, and nowwent back, so that there were two unoccupied seats opposite andone next to Taras. Three of the workmen took these seats, butwhen Nekhludoff came up to them, in his gentleman's clothing,they got so confused that they rose to go away, but Nekhludoffasked them to stay, and himself sat down on the arm of the seat,by the passage down the middle of the carriage.

　　One of the workmen, a man of about 50, exchanged a surprised andeven frightened look with a young man. That Nekhludoff, insteadof scolding and driving them away, as was natural to a gentleman,should give up his seat to them, astonished and perplexed them.They even feared that this might have some evil result for them.

　　However, they soon noticed that there was no underlying plot whenthey heard Nekhludoff talking quite simply with Taras, and theygrew quiet and told one of the lads to sit down on his bag andgive his seat to Nekhludoff. At first the elderly workman who satopposite Nekhludoff shrank and drew back his legs for fear oftouching the gentleman, but after a while he grew quite friendly,and in talking to him and Taras even slapped Nekhludoff on theknee when he wanted to draw special attention to what he wassaying.

　　He told them all about his position and his work in the peatbogs, whence he was now returning home. He had been working therefor two and a half months, and was bringing home his wages, whichonly came to 10 roubles, since part had been paid beforehand whenhe was hired. They worked, as he explained, up to their knees inwater from sunrise to sunset, with two hours' interval fordinner.

　　"Those who are not used to it find it hard, of course," he said;" but when one's hardened it doesn't matter, if only the food isright. At first the food was bad. Later the people complained,and they got good food, and it was easy to work."

　　Then he told them how, during 28 years he went out to work, andsent all his earnings home. First to his father, then to hiseldest brother, and now to his nephew, who was at the head of thehousehold. On himself he spent only two or three roubles of the50 or 60 he earned a year, just for luxuries--tobacco andmatches.

　　"I'm a sinner, when tired I even drink a little vodka sometimes,"he added, with a guilty smile.

　　Then he told them how the women did the work at home, and how thecontractor had treated them to half a pail of vodka before theystarted to-day, how one of them had died, and another wasreturning home ill. The sick workman he was talking about was ina corner of the same carriage. He was a young lad, with a pale,sallow face and bluish lips. He was evidently tormented byintermittent fever. Nekhludoff went up to him, but the lad lookedup with such a severe and suffering expression that Nekhludoffdid not care to bother him with questions, but advised the elderman to give him quinine, and wrote down the name of the medicine.He wished to give him some money, but the old workman said hewould pay for it himself.

　　"Well, much as I have travelled, I have never met such agentleman before. Instead of punching your head, he actuallygives up his place to you," said the old man to Taras. "It seemsthere are all sorts of gentlefolk, too."

　　"Yes, this is quite a new and different world," thoughtNekhludoff, looking at these spare, sinewy, limbs, coarse,home-made garments, and sunburnt, kindly, though weary-lookingfaces, and feeling himself surrounded on all sides with newpeople and the serious interests, joys, and sufferings of a lifeof labour.

　　"Here is le vrai grand monde," thought Nekhludoff, rememberingthe words of Prince Korchagin and all that idle, luxurious worldto which the Korchagins belonged, with their petty, meaninterests. And he felt the joy of a traveller on discovering anew, unknown, and beautiful world.

　　END OF BOOK II.

　　BOOK III.

　　CHAPTER I.

　　MASLOVA MAKES NEW FRIENDS.

　　The gang of prisoners to which Maslova belonged had walked aboutthree thousand three hundred miles. She and the other prisonerscondemned for criminal offences had travelled by rail and bysteamboats as far as the town of Perm. It was only here thatNekhludoff succeeded in obtaining a permission for her tocontinue the journey with the political prisoners, as VeraDoukhova, who was among the latter, advised him to do. Thejourney up to Perm had been very trying to Maslova both morallyand physically. Physically, because of the overcrowding, thedirt, and the disgusting vermin, which gave her no peace;morally, because of the equally disgusting men. The men, like thevermin, though they changed at each halting-place, wereeverywhere alike importunate; they swarmed round her, giving herno rest. Among the women prisoners and the men prisoners, thejailers and the convoy soldiers, the habit of a kind of cynicaldebauch was so firmly established that unless a female prisonerwas willing to utilise her position as a woman she had to beconstantly on the watch. To be continually in a state of fear andstrife was very trying. And Maslova was specially exposed toattacks, her appearance being attractive and her past known toevery one. The decided resistance with which she now met theimportunity of all the men seemed offensive to them, and awakenedanother feeling, that of ill-will towards her. But her positionwas made a little easier by her intimacy with Theodosia, andTheodosia's husband, who, having heard of the molestations hiswife was subject to, had in Nijni been arrested at his own desirein order to be able to protect her, and was now travelling withthe gang as a prisoner. Maslova's position became much morebearable when she was allowed to join the political prisoners,who were provided with better accomodations, better food, andwere treated less rudely, but besides all this Maslova'scondition was much improved because among the political prisonersshe was no longer molested by the men, and could live withoutbeing reminded of that past which she was so anxious to forget.But the chief advantage of the change lay in the fact that shemade the acquaintance of several persons who exercised a decidedand most beneficial influence on her character. Maslova wasallowed to stop with the political prisoners at all thehalting-places, but being a strong and healthy woman she wasobliged to march with the criminal convicts. In this way shewalked all the way from Tomsk. Two political prisoners alsomarched with the gang, Mary Pavlovna Schetinina, the girl withthe hazel eyes who had attracted Nekhludoff's attention when hehad been to visit Doukhova in prison, and one Simonson, who wason his way to the Takoutsk district, the dishevelled dark youngfellow with deep-lying eyes, whom Nekhludoff had also noticedduring that visit. Mary Pavlovna was walking because she hadgiven her place on the cart to one of the criminals, a womanexpecting to be confined, and Simonson because he did not dare toavail himself of a class privilege.

　　These three always started early in the morning before the restof the political prisoners, who followed later on in the carts.

　　They were ready to start in this way just outside a large town,where a new convoy officer had taken charge of the gang.

　　It was early on a dull September morning. It kept raining andsnowing alternately, and the cold wind blew in sudden gusts. Thewhole gang of prisoners, consisting of four hundred men and fiftywomen, was already assembled in the court of the halting station.Some of them were crowding round the chief of the convoy, who wasgiving to specially appointed prisoners money for two days' keepto distribute among the rest, while others were purchasing foodfrom women who had been let into the courtyard. One could hearthe voices of the prisoners counting their money and making theirpurchases, and the shrill voices of the women with the food.

　　Simonson, in his rubber jacket and rubber overshoes fastened witha string over his worsted stockings (he was a vegetarian andwould not wear the skin of slaughtered animals), was also in thecourtyard waiting for the gang to start. He stood by the porchand jotted down in his notebook a thought that had occurred tohim. This was what he wrote: "If a bacteria watched and examineda human nail it would pronounce it inorganic matter, and thus we,examining our globe and watching its crust, pronounce it to beinorganic. This is incorrect."

　　Katusha and Mary Pavlovna, both wearing top-boots and with shawlstied round their heads, came out of the building into thecourtyard where the women sat sheltered from the wind by thenorthern wall of the court, and vied with one another, offeringtheir goods, hot meat pie, fish, vermicelli, buckwheat porridge,liver, beef, eggs, milk. One had even a roast pig to offer.

　　Having bought some eggs, bread, fish, and some rusks, Maslova wasputting them into her bag, while Mary Pavlovna was paying thewomen, when a movement arose among the convicts. All were silentand took their places. The officer came out and began giving thelast orders before starting. Everything was done in the usualmanner. The prisoners were counted, the chains on their legsexamined, and those who were to march in couples linked togetherwith manacles. But suddenly the angry, authoritative voice of theofficer shouting something was heard, also the sound of a blowand the crying of a child. All was silent for a moment and thencame a hollow murmur from the crowd. Maslova and Mary Pavlovnaadvanced towards the spot whence the noise proceeded.

　　CHAPTER II.

　　AN INCIDENT OF THE MARCH.

　　This is what Mary Pavlovna and Katusha saw when they came up tothe scene whence the noise proceeded. The officer, a sturdyfellow, with fair moustaches, stood uttering words of foul andcoarse abuse, and rubbing with his left the palm of his righthand, which he had hurt in hitting a prisoner on the face. Infront of him a thin, tall convict, with half his head shaved anddressed in a cloak too short for him and trousers much too short,stood wiping his bleeding face with one hand, and holding alittle shrieking girl wrapped in a shawl with the other.

　　"I'll give it you" (foul abuse); "I'll teach you to reason" (moreabuse); "you're to give her to the women!" shouted the officer."Now, then, on with them."

　　The convict, who was exiled by the Commune, had been carrying hislittle daughter all the way from Tomsk, where his wife had diedof typhus, and now the officer ordered him to be manacled. Theexile's explanation that he could not carry the child if he wasmanacled irritated the officer, who happened to be in a badtemper, and he gave the troublesome prisoner a beating. [A factdescribed by Lineff in his "Transportation".] Before the injuredconvict stood a convoy soldier, and a black-bearded prisoner withmanacles on one hand and a look of gloom on his face, which heturned now to the officer, now to the prisoner with the littlegirl.

　　The officer repeated his orders for the soldiers to take away thegirl. The murmur among the prisoners grew louder.

　　"All the way from Tomsk they were not put on," came a hoarsevoice from some one in the rear. "It's a child, and not a puppy."

　　"What's he to do with the lassie? That's not the law," said someone else.

　　"Who's that?" shouted the officer as if he had been stung, andrushed into the crowd.

　　"I'll teach you the law. Who spoke. You? You?"

　　"Everybody says so, because-" said a short, broad-faced prisoner.

　　Before he had finished speaking the officer hit him in the face.

　　"Mutiny, is it? I'll show you what mutiny means. I'll have youall shot like dogs, and the authorities will be only toothankful. Take the girl."

　　The crowd was silent. One convoy soldier pulled away the girl,who was screaming desperately, while another manacled theprisoner, who now submissively held out his hand.

　　"Take her to the women," shouted the officer, arranging his swordbelt.

　　The little girl, whose face had grown quite red, was trying todisengage her arms from under the shawl, and screamedunceasingly. Mary Pavlovna stepped out from among the crowd andcame up to the officer.

　　"Will you allow me to carry the little girl?" she said.

　　"Who are you?" asked the officer.

　　"A political prisoner."

　　Mary Pavlovna's handsome face, with the beautiful prominent eyes(he had noticed her before when the prisoners were given into hischarge), evidently produced an effect on the officer. He lookedat her in silence as if considering, then said: "I don't care;carry her if you like. It is easy for you to show pity; if he ranaway who would have to answer?"

　　"How could he run away with the child in his arms?" said MaryPavlovna.

　　"I have no time to talk with you. Take her if you like."

　　"Shall I give her?" asked the soldier.

　　"Yes, give her."

　　"Come to me," said Mary Pavlovna, trying to coax the child tocome to her.

　　But the child in the soldier's arms stretched herself towards herfather and continued to scream, and would not go to MaryPavlovna.

　　"Wait a bit, Mary Pavlovna," said Maslova, getting a rusk out ofher bag; "she will come to me."

　　The little girl knew Maslova, and when she saw her face and therusk she let her take her. All was quiet. The gates were opened,and the gang stepped out, the convoy counted the prisoners overagain, the bags were packed and tied on to the carts, the weakseated on the top. Maslova with the child in her arms took herplace among the women next to Theodosia. Simonson, who had allthe time been watching what was going on, stepped with large,determined strides up to the officer, who, having given hisorders, was just getting into a trap, and said, "You have behavedbadly."

　　"Get to your place; it is no business of yours."

　　"It is my business to tell you that you have behaved badly and Ihave said it," said Simonson, looking intently into the officer'sface from under his bushy eyebrows.

　　"Ready? March!" the officer called out, paying no heed toSimonson, and, taking hold of the driver's shoulder, he got intothe trap. The gang started and spread out as it stepped on to themuddy high road with ditches on each side, which passed through adense forest.

　　CHAPTER III.

　　MARY PAVLOVNA.

　　In spite of the hard conditions in which they were placed, lifeamong the political prisoners seemed very good to Katusha afterthe depraved, luxurious and effeminate life she had led in townfor the last six years, and after two months' imprisonment withcriminal prisoners. The fifteen to twenty miles they did per day,with one day's rest after two days' marching, strengthened herphysically, and the fellowship with her new companions opened outto her a life full of interests such as she had never dreamed of.People so wonderful (as she expressed it) as those whom she wasnow going with she had not only never met but could not even haveimagined.

　　"There now, and I cried when I was sentenced," she said. "Why, Imust thank God for it all the days of my life. I have learned toknow what I never should have found out else."

　　The motives she understood easily and without effort that guidedthese people, and, being of the people, fully sympathised withthem. She understood that these persons were for the people andagainst the upper classes, and though themselves belonging to theupper classes had sacrificed their privileges, their liberty andtheir lives for the people. This especially made her value andadmire them. She was charmed with all the new companions, butparticularly with Mary Pavlovna, and she was not only charmedwith her, but loved her with a peculiar, respectful and rapturouslove. She was struck by the fact that this beautiful girl, thedaughter of a rich general, who could speak three languages, gaveaway all that her rich brother sent her, and lived like thesimplest working girl, and dressed not only simply, but poorly,paying no heed to her appearance. This trait and a completeabsence of coquetry was particularly surprising and thereforeattractive to Maslova. Maslova could see that Mary Pavlovna knew,and was even pleased to know, that she was handsome, and yet theeffect her appearance had on men was not at all pleasing to her;she was even afraid of it, and felt an absolute disgust to alllove affairs. Her men companions knew it, and if they feltattracted by her never permitted themselves to show it to her,but treated her as they would a man; but with strangers, whooften molested her, the great physical strength on which sheprided herself stood her in good stead.

　　"It happened once," she said to Katusha, "that a man followed mein the street and would not leave me on any account. At last Igave him such a shaking that he was frightened and ran away."

　　She became a revolutionary, as she said, because she felt adislike to the life of the well-to-do from childhood up, andloved the life of the common people, and she was always beingscolded for spending her time in the servants' hall, in thekitchen or the stables instead of the drawing-room.

　　"And I found it amusing to be with cooks and the coachmen, anddull with our gentlemen and ladies," she said. "Then when I cameto understand things I saw that our life was altogether wrong; Ihad no mother and I did not care for my father, and so when I wasnineteen I left home, and went with a girl friend to work as afactory hand."

　　After she left the factory she lived in the country, thenreturned to town and lived in a lodging, where they had a secretprinting press. There she was arrested and sentenced to hardlabour. Mary Pavlovna said nothing about it herself, but Katushaheard from others that Mary Pavlovna was sentenced because, whenthe lodging was searched by the police and one of therevolutionists fired a shot in the dark, she pleaded guilty.

　　As soon as she had learned to know Mary Pavlovna, Katusha noticedthat, whatever the conditions she found herself in, Mary Pavlovnanever thought of herself, but was always anxious to serve, tohelp some one, in matters small or great. One of her presentcompanions, Novodvoroff, said of her that she devoted herself tophilanthropic amusements. And this was true. The interest of herwhole life lay in the search for opportunities of serving others.This kind of amusement had become the habit, the business of herlife. And she did it all so naturally that those who knew her nolonger valued but simply expected it of her.

　　When Maslova first came among them, Mary Pavlovna felt repulsedand disgusted. Katusha noticed this, but she also noticed that,having made an effort to overcome these feelings, Mary Pavlovnabecame particularly tender and kind to her. The tenderness andkindness of so uncommon a being touched Maslova so much that shegave her whole heart, and unconsciously accepting her views,could not help imitating her in everything.

　　This devoted love of Katusha touched Mary Pavlovna in her turn,and she learned to love Katusha.

　　These women were also united by the repulsion they both felt tosexual love. The one loathed that kind of love, havingexperienced all its horrors, the other, never having experiencedit, looked on it as something incomprehensible and at the sametime as something repugnant and offensive to human dignity.

　　CHAPTER IV.

　　SIMONSON.

　　Mary Pavlovna's influence was one that Maslova submitted tobecause she loved Mary Pavlovna. Simonson influenced her becausehe loved her.

　　Everybody lives and acts partly according to his own, partlyaccording to other people's, ideas. This is what constitutes oneof the great differences among men. To some, thinking is a kindof mental game; they treat their reason as if it were a fly-wheelwithout a connecting strap, and are guided in their actions byother people's ideas, by custom or laws; while others look upontheir own ideas as the chief motive power of all their actions,and always listen to the dictates of their own reason and submitto it, accepting other people's opinions only on rare occasionsand after weighing them critically. Simonson was a man of thelatter sort; he settled and verified everything according to hisown reason and acted on the decisions he arrived at. When aschoolboy he made up his mind that his father's income, made as apaymaster in government office was dishonestly gained, and hetold his father that it ought to be given to the people. When hisfather, instead of listening to him, gave him a scolding, he lefthis father's house and would not make use of his father's means.Having come to the conclusion that all the existing misery was aresult of the people's ignorance, he joined the socialists, whocarried on propaganda among the people, as soon as he left theuniversity and got a place as a village schoolmaster. He taughtand explained to his pupils and to the peasants what heconsidered to be just, and openly blamed what he thought unjust.He was arrested and tried. During his trial he determined to tellhis judges that his was a just cause, for which he ought not tobe tried or punished. When the judges paid no heed to his words,but went on with the trial, he decided not to answer them andkept resolutely silent when they questioned him. He was exiled tothe Government of Archangel. There he formulated a religiousteaching which was founded on the theory that everything in theworld was alive, that nothing is lifeless, and that all theobjects we consider to be without life or inorganic are onlyparts of an enormous organic body which we cannot compass. Aman's task is to sustain the life of that huge organism and allits animate parts. Therefore he was against war, capitalpunishment and every kind of killing, not only of human beings,but also of animals. Concerning marriage, too, he had a peculiaridea of his own; he thought that increase was a lower function ofman, the highest function being to serve the already existinglives. He found a confirmation of his theory in the fact thatthere were phacocytes in the blood. Celibates, according to hisopinion, were the same as phacocytes, their function being tohelp the weak and the sickly particles of the organism. From themoment he came to this conclusion he began to consider himself aswell as Mary Pavlovna as phacocytes, and to live accordingly,though as a youth he had been addicted to vice. His love forKatusha did not infringe this conception, because he loved herplatonically, and such love he considered could not hinder hisactivity as a phacocytes, but acted, on the contrary, as aninspiration.

　　Not only moral, but also most practical questions he decided inhis own way. He applied a theory of his own to all practicalbusiness, had rules relating to the number of hours for rest andfor work, to the kind of food to eat, the way to dress, to heatand light up the rooms. With all this Simonson was very shy andmodest; and yet when he had once made up his mind nothing couldmake him waver. And this man had a decided influence on Maslovathrough his love for her. With a woman's instinct Maslova verysoon found out that he loved her. And the fact that she couldawaken love in a man of that kind raised her in her ownestimation. It was Nekhludoff's magnanimity and what had been inthe past that made him offer to marry her, but Simonson loved hersuch as she was now, loved her simply because of the love he boreher. And she felt that Simonson considered her to be anexceptional woman, having peculiarly high moral qualities. Shedid not quite know what the qualities he attributed to her were,but in order to be on the safe side and that he should not bedisappointed in her, she tried with all her might to awaken inherself all the highest qualities she could conceive, and shetried to be as good as possible. This had begun while they werestill in prison, when on a common visiting day she had noticedhis kindly dark blue eyes gazing fixedly at her from under hisprojecting brow. Even then she had noticed that this was apeculiar man, and that he was looking at her in a peculiarmanner, and had also noticed the striking combination ofsternness--the unruly hair and the frowning forehead gave himthis appearance--with the child-like kindness and innocence ofhis look. She saw him again in Tomsk, where she joined thepolitical prisoners. Though they had not uttered a word, theirlooks told plainly that they had understood one another. Evenafter that they had had no serious conversation with each other,but Maslova felt that when he spoke in her presence his wordswere addressed to her, and that he spoke for her sake, trying toexpress himself as plainly as he could; but it was when hestarted walking with the criminal prisoners that they grewspecially near to one another.

　　CHAPTER V.

　　THE POLITICAL PRISONERS.

　　Until they left Perm Nekhludoff only twice managed to seeKatusha, once in Nijni, before the prisoners were embarked on abarge surrounded with a wire netting, and again in Perm in theprison office. At both these interviews he found her reserved andunkind. She answered his questions as to whether she was in wantof anything, and whether she was comfortable, evasively andbashfully, and, as he thought, with the same feeling of hostilereproach which she had shown several times before. Her depressedstate of mind, which was only the result of the molestations fromthe men that she was undergoing at the time, tormentedNekhludoff. He feared lest, influenced by the hard and degradingcircumstances in which she was placed on the journey, she shouldagain get into that state of despair and discord with her ownself which formerly made her irritable with him, and which hadcaused her to drink and smoke excessively to gain oblivion. Buthe was unable to help her in any way during this part of thejourney, as it was impossible for him to be with her. It was onlywhen she joined the political prisoners that he saw how unfoundedhis fears were, and at each interview he noticed that innerchange he so strongly desired to see in her becoming more andmore marked. The first time they met in Tomsk she was again justas she had been when leaving Moscow. She did not frown or becomeconfused when she saw him, but met him joyfully and simply,thanking him for what he had done for her, especially forbringing her among the people with whom she now was.

　　After two months' marching with the gang, the change that hadtaken place within her became noticeable in her appearance. Shegrew sunburned and thinner, and seemed older; wrinkles appearedon her temples and round her mouth. She had no ringlets on herforehead now, and her hair was covered with the kerchief; in theway it was arranged, as well as in her dress and her manners,there was no trace of coquetry left. And this change, which hadtaken place and was still progressing in her, made Nekhludoffvery happy.

　　He felt for her something he had never experienced before. Thisfeeling had nothing in common with his first poetic love for her,and even less with the sensual love that had followed, nor evenwith the satisfaction of a duty fulfilled, not unmixed withself-admiration, with which he decided to marry her after thetrial. The present feeling was simply one of pity and tenderness.He had felt it when he met her in prison for the first time, andthen again when, after conquering his repugnance, he forgave herthe imagined intrigue with the medical assistant in the hospital(the injustice done her had since been discovered); it was thesame feeling he now had, only with this difference, that formerlyit was momentary, and that now it had become permanent. Whateverhe was doing, whatever he was thinking now, a feeling of pity andtenderness dwelt with him, and not only pity and tenderness forher, but for everybody. This feeling seemed to have opened thefloodgates of love, which had found no outlet in Nekhludoff'ssoul, and the love now flowed out to every one he met.

　　During this journey Nekhludoff's feelings were so stimulated thathe could not help being attentive and considerate to everybody,from the coachman and the convoy soldiers to the prisoninspectors and governors whom he had to deal with. Now thatMaslova was among the political prisoners, Nekhludoff could nothelp becoming acquainted with many of them, first inEkaterinburg, where they had a good deal of freedom and were keptaltogether in a large cell, and then on the road when Maslova wasmarching with three of the men and four of the women. Coming incontact with political exiles in this way made Nekhludoffcompletely change his mind concerning them.

　　From the very beginning of the revolutionary movement in Russia,but especially since that first of March, when Alexander II wasmurdered, Nekhludoff regarded the revolutionists with dislike andcontempt. He was repulsed by the cruelty and secrecy of themethods they employed in their struggles against the government,especially the cruel murders they committed, and their arrogancealso disgusted him. But having learned more intimately to knowthem and all they had suffered at the hands of the government, hesaw that they could not be other than they were

　　Terrible and endless as were the torments which were inflicted onthe criminals, there was at least some semblance of justice shownthem before and after they were sentenced, but in the case of thepolitical prisoners there was not even that semblance, asNekhludoff saw in the case of Sholostova and that of many andmany of his new acquaintances. These people were dealt with likefish caught with a net; everything that gets into the nets ispulled ashore, and then the big fish which are required aresorted out and the little ones are left to perish unheeded on theshore. Having captured hundreds that were evidently guiltless,and that could not be dangerous to the government, they left themimprisoned for years, where they became consumptive, went out oftheir minds or committed suicide, and kept them only because theyhad no inducement to set them free, while they might be of use toelucidate some question at a judicial inquiry, safe in prison.The fate of these persons, often innocent even from thegovernment point of view, depended on the whim, the humour of, orthe amount of leisure at the disposal of some police officer orspy, or public prosecutor, or magistrate, or governor, orminister. Some one of these officials feels dull, or inclined todistinguish himself, and makes a number of arrests, and imprisonsor sets free, according to his own fancy or that of the higherauthorities. And the higher official, actuated by like motives,according to whether he is inclined to distinguish himself, or towhat his relations to the minister are, exiles men to the otherside of the world or keeps them in solitary confinement, condemnsthem to Siberia, to hard labour, to death, or sets them free atthe request of some lady.

　　They were dealt with as in war, and they naturally employed themeans that were used against them. And as the military men livein an atmosphere of public opinion that not only conceals fromthem the guilt of their actions, but sets these actions up asfeats of heroism, so these political offenders were alsoconstantly surrounded by an atmosphere of public opinion whichmade the cruel actions they committed, in the face of danger andat the risk of liberty and life, and all that is dear to men,seem not wicked but glorious actions. Nekhludoff found in thisthe explanation of the surprising phenomenon that men, with themildest characters, who seemed incapable of witnessing thesufferings of any living creature, much less of inflicting pain,quietly prepared to murder men, nearly all of them consideringmurder lawful and just on certain occasions as a means forself-defence, for the attainment of higher aims or for thegeneral welfare.

　　The importance they attribute to their cause, and consequently tothemselves, flowed naturally from the importance the governmentattached to their actions, and the cruelty of the punishments itinflicted on them. When Nekhludoff came to know them better hebecame convinced that they were not the right-down villains thatsome imagined them to be, nor the complete heroes that othersthought them, but ordinary people, just the same as others, amongwhom there were some good and some bad, and some mediocre, asthere are everywhere.

　　There were some among them who had turned revolutionists becausethey honestly considered it their duty to fight the existingevils, but there were also those who chose this work for selfish,ambitious motives; the majority, however, was attracted to therevolutionary idea by the desire for danger, for risks, theenjoyment of playing with one's life, which, as Nekhludoff knewfrom his military experiences, is quite common to the mostordinary people while they are young and full of energy. Butwherein they differed from ordinary people was that their moralstandard was a higher one than that of ordinary men. Theyconsidered not only self-control, hard living, truthfulness, butalso the readiness to sacrifice everything, even life, for thecommon welfare as their duty. Therefore the best among them stoodon a moral level that is not often reached, while the worst werefar below the ordinary level, many of them being untruthful,hypocritical and at the same time self-satisfied and proud. Sothat Nekhludoff learned not only to respect but to love some ofhis new acquaintances, while he remained more than indifferent toothers.

　　CHAPTER VI.

　　KRYLTZOFF'S STORY.

　　Nekhludoff grew especially fond of Kryltzoff, a consumptive youngman condemned to hard labour, who was going with the same gang asKatusha. Nekhludoff had made his acquaintance already inEkaterinburg, and talked with him several times on the road afterthat. Once, in summer, Nekhludoff spent nearly the whole of a daywith him at a halting station, and Kryltzoff, having once startedtalking, told him his story and how he had become arevolutionist. Up to the time of his imprisonment his story wassoon told. He lost his father, a rich landed proprietor in thesouth of Russia, when still a child. He was the only son, and hismother brought him up. He learned easily in the university, aswell as the gymnasium, and was first in the mathematical facultyin his year. He was offered a choice of remaining in theuniversity or going abroad. He hesitated. He loved a girl and wasthinking of marriage, and taking part in the ruraladministration. He did not like giving up either offer, and couldnot make up his mind. At this time his fellow-students at theuniversity asked him for money for a common cause. He did notknow that this common cause was revolutionary, which he was notinterested in at that time, but gave the money from a sense ofcomradeship and vanity, so that it should not be said that he wasafraid. Those who received the money were caught, a note wasfound which proved that the money had been given by Kryltzoff. hewas arrested, and first kept at the police station, thenimprisoned.

　　"The prison where I was put," Kryltzoff went on to relate (he wassitting on the high shelf bedstead, his elbows on his knees, withsunken chest, the beautiful, intelligent eyes with which helooked at Nekhludoff glistening feverishly)-- "they were notspecially strict in that prison. We managed to converse, not onlyby tapping the wall, but could walk about the corridors, shareour provisions and our tobacco, and in the evenings we even sangin chorus. I had a fine voice--yes, if it had not been for motherit would have been all right, even pleasant and interesting. HereI made the acquaintance of the famous Petroff--he afterwardskilled himself with a piece of glass at the fortress --and alsoof others. But I was not yet a revolutionary. I also becameacquainted with my neighbours in the cells next to mine. Theywere both caught with Polish proclamations and arrested in thesame cause, and were tried for an attempt to escape from theconvoy when they were being taken to the railway station. One wasa Pole, Lozinsky; the other a Jew, Rozovsky. Yes. Well, thisRozovsky was quite a boy. He said he was seventeen, but he lookedfifteen--thin, small, active, with black, sparkling eyes, and,like most Jews, very musical. His voice was still breaking, andyet he sang beautifully. Yes. I saw them both taken to be tried.They were taken in the morning. They returned in the evening,and said they were condemned to death. No one had expected it.Their case was so unimportant; they only tried to get away fromthe convoy, and had not even wounded any one. And then it was sounnatural to execute such a child as Rozovsky. And we in prisonall came to the conclusion that it was only done to frightenthem, and would not be confirmed. At first we were excited, andthen we comforted ourselves, and life went on as before. Yes.Well, one evening, a watchman comes to my door and mysteriouslyannounces to me that carpenters had arrived, and were putting upthe gallows. At first I did not understand. What's that? Whatgallows? But the watchman was so excited that I saw at once itwas for our two. I wished to tap and communicate with mycomrades, but was afraid those two would hear. The comrades werealso silent. Evidently everybody knew. In the corridors and inthe cells everything was as still as death all that evening. Theydid not tap the wall nor sing. At ten the watchman came again andannounced that a hangman had arrived from Moscow. He said it andwent away. I began calling him back. Suddenly I hear Rozovskyshouting to me across the corridor: 'What's the matter? Why doyou call him?' I answered something about asking him to get mesome tobacco, but he seemed to guess, and asked me: 'Why did wenot sing to-night, why did we not tap the walls?' I do notremember what I said, but I went away so as not to speak to him.Yes. It was a terrible night. I listened to every sound allnight. Suddenly, towards morning, I hear doors opening andsomebody walking--many persons. I went up to my window. Therewas a lamp burning in the corridor. The first to pass was theinspector. He was stout, and seemed a resolute, self-satisfiedman, but he looked ghastly pale, downcast, and seemed frightened;then his assistant, frowning but resolute; behind them thewatchman. They passed my door and stopped at the next, and I hearthe assistant calling out in a strange voice: 'Lozinsky, get upand put on clean linen.' Yes. Then I hear the creaking of thedoor; they entered into his cell. Then I hear Lozinsky's stepsgoing to the opposite side of the corridor. I could only see theinspector. He stood quite pale, and buttoned and unbuttoned hiscoat, shrugging his shoulders. Yes. Then, as if frightened ofsomething, he moved out of the way. It was Lozinsky, who passedhim and came up to my door. A handsome young fellow he was, youknow, of that nice Polish type: broad shouldered, his headcovered with fine, fair, curly hair as with a cap, and withbeautiful blue eyes. So blooming, so fresh, so healthy. Hestopped in front of my window, so that I could see the whole ofhis face. A dreadful, gaunt, livid face. 'Kryltzoff, have you anycigarettes?' I wished to pass him some, but the assistanthurriedly pulled out his cigarette case and passed it to him. Hetook out one, the assistant struck a match, and he lit thecigarette and began to smoke and seemed to be thinking. Then, asif he had remembered something, he began to speak. 'It is crueland unjust. I have committed no crime. I--' I saw somethingquiver in his white young throat, from which I could not take myeyes, and he stopped. Yes. At that moment I hear Rozovskyshouting in his fine, Jewish voice. Lozinsky threw away thecigarette and stepped from the door. And Rozovsky appeared at thewindow. His childish face, with the limpid black eyes, was redand moist. He also had clean linen on, the trousers were toowide, and he kept pulling them up and trembled all over. Heapproached his pitiful face to my window. 'Kryltzoff, it's truethat the doctor has prescribed cough mixture for me, is it not? Iam not well. I'll take some more of the mixture.' No oneanswered, and he looked inquiringly, now at me, now at theinspector. What he meant to say I never made out. Yes. Suddenlythe assistant again put on a stern expression, and called out ina kind of squeaking tone: 'Now, then, no nonsense. Let us go.'Rozovsky seemed incapable of understanding what awaited him, andhurried, almost ran, in front of him all along the corridor. Butthen he drew back, and I could hear his shrill voice and hiscries, then the trampling of feet, and general hubbub. He wasshrieking and sobbing. The sounds came fainter and fainter, andat last the door rattled and all was quiet. Yes. And so theyhanged them. Throttled them both with a rope. A watchman, anotherone, saw it done, and told me that Lozinsky did not resist, butRozovsky struggled for a long time, so that they had to pull himup on to the scaffold and to force his head into the noose. Yes.This watchman was a stupid fellow. He said: 'They told me, sir,that it would be frightful, but it was not at all frightful.After they were hanged they only shrugged their shoulders twice,like this.' He showed how the shoulders convulsively rose andfell. 'Then the hangman pulled a bit so as to tighten the noose,and it was all up, and they never budged."' And Kryltzoffrepeated the watchman's words, "Not at all frightful," and triedto smile, but burst into sobs instead.

　　For a long time after that he kept silent, breathing heavily, andrepressing the sobs that were choking him.

　　"From that time I became a revolutionist. Yes," he said, when hewas quieter and finished his story in a few words. He belonged tothe Narodovoltzy party, and was even at the head of thedisorganising group, whose object was to terrorise the governmentso that it should give up its power of its own accord. With thisobject he travelled to Petersburg, to Kiev, to Odessa and abroad,and was everywhere successful. A man in whom he had fullconfidence betrayed him. He was arrested, tried, kept in prisonfor two years, and condemned to death, but the sentence wasmitigated to one of hard labour for life.

　　He went into consumption while in prison, and in the conditionshe was now placed he had scarcely more than a few months longerto live. This he knew, but did not repent of his action, but saidthat if he had another life he would use it in the same way todestroy the conditions in which such things as he had seen werepossible.

　　This man's story and his intimacy with him explained toNekhludoff much that he had not previously understood.

　　CHAPTER VII.

　　NEKHLUDOFF SEEKS AN INTERVIEW WITH MASLOVA.

　　On the day when the convoy officer had the encounter with theprisoners at the halting station about the child, Nekhludoff, whohad spent the night at the village inn, woke up late, and wassome time writing letters to post at the next Government town, sothat he left the inn later than usual, and did not catch up withthe gang on the road as he had done previously, but came to thevillage where the next halting station was as it was growingdusk.

　　Having dried himself at the inn, which was kept by an elderlywoman who had an extraordinarily fat, white neck, he had his teain a clean room decorated with a great number of icons andpictures and then hurried away to the halting station to ask theofficer for an interview with Katusha. At the last six haltingstations he could not get the permission for an interview fromany of the officers. Though they had been changed several times,not one of them would allow Nekhludoff inside the haltingstations, so that he had not seen Katusha for more than a week.This strictness was occasioned by the fact that an importantprison official was expected to pass that way. Now this officialhad passed without looking in at the gang, after all, andNekhludoff hoped that the officer who had taken charge of thegang in the morning would allow him an interview with theprisoners, as former officers had done.

　　The landlady offered Nekhludoff a trap to drive him to thehalting station, situated at the farther end of the village, butNekhludoff preferred to walk. A young labourer, abroad-shouldered young fellow of herculean dimensions, withenormous top-boots freshly blackened with strongly smelling tar,offered himself as a guide.

　　A dense mist obscured the sky, and it was so dark that when theyoung fellow was three steps in advance of him Nekhludoff couldnot see him unless the light of some window happened to fall onthe spot, but he could hear the heavy boots wading through thedeep, sticky slush. After passing the open place in front of thechurch and the long street, with its rows of windows shiningbrightly in the darkness, Nekhludoff followed his guide to theoutskirts of the village, where it was pitch dark. But soon here,too, rays of light, streaming through the mist from the lamps inthe front of the halting station, became discernible through thedarkness. The reddish spots of light grew bigger and bigger; atlast the stakes of the palisade, the moving figure of thesentinel, a post painted with white and black stripes and thesentinel's box became visible.

　　The sentinel called his usual "Who goes there?" as theyapproached, and seeing they were strangers treated them with suchseverity that he would not allow them to wait by the palisade;but Nekhludoff's guide was not abashed by this severity.

　　"Hallo, lad! why so fierce? You go and rouse your boss while wewait here?"

　　The sentinel gave no answer, but shouted something in at the gateand stood looking at the broad-shouldered young labourer scrapingthe mud off Nekhludoff's boots with a chip of wood by the lightof the lamp. From behind the palisade came the hum of male andfemale voices. In about three minutes more something rattled, thegate opened, and a sergeant, with his cloak thrown over hisshoulders, stepped out of the darkness into the lamplight.

　　The sergeant was not as strict as the sentinel, but he wasextremely inquisitive. He insisted on knowing what Nekhludoffwanted the officer for, and who he was, evidently scenting hisbooty and anxious not to let it escape. Nekhludoff said he hadcome on special business, and would show his gratitude, and wouldthe sergeant take a note for him to the officer. The sergeanttook the note, nodded, and went away. Some time after the gaterattled again, and women carrying baskets, boxes, jugs and sackscame out, loudly chattering in their peculiar Siberian dialect asthey stepped over the threshold of the gate. None of them worepeasant costumes, but were dressed town fashion, wearing jacketsand fur-lined cloaks. Their skirts were tucked up high, and theirheads wrapped up in shawls. They examined Nekhludoff and hisguide curiously by the light of the lamp. One of them showedevident pleasure at the sight of the broad-shouldered fellow, andaffectionately administered to him a dose of Siberian abuse.

　　"You demon, what are you doing here? The devil take you," shesaid, addressing him.

　　"I've been showing this traveller here the way," answered theyoung fellow. "And what have you been bringing here?"

　　"Dairy produce, and I am to bring more in the morning."

　　The guide said something in answer that made not only the womenbut even the sentinel laugh, and, turning to Nekhludoff, he said:

　　"You'll find your way alone? Won't get lost, will you?

　　"I shall find it all right."

　　"When you have passed the church it's the second from thetwo-storied house. Oh, and here, take my staff," he said, handingthe stick he was carrying, and which was longer than himself, toNekhludoff; and splashing through the mud with his enormousboots, he disappeared in the darkness, together with the women.

　　His voice mingling with the voices of the women was still audiblethrough the fog, when the gate again rattled, and the sergeantappeared and asked Nekhludoff to follow him to the officer.

　　CHAPTER VIII.

　　NEKHLUDOFF AND THE OFFICER.

　　This halting station, like all such stations along the Siberianroad, was surrounded by a courtyard, fenced in with a palisade ofsharp-pointed stakes, and consisted of three one-storied houses.One of them, the largest, with grated windows, was for theprisoners, another for the convoy soldiers, and the third, inwhich the office was, for the officers.

　　There were lights in the windows of all the three houses, and,like all such lights, they promised, here in a speciallydeceptive manner, something cosy inside the walls. Lamps wereburning before the porches of the houses and about five lampsmore along the walls lit up the yard.

　　The sergeant led Nekhludoff along a plank which lay across theyard up to the porch of the smallest of the houses.

　　When he had gone up the three steps of the porch he letNekhludoff pass before him into the ante-room, in which a smalllamp was burning, and which was filled with smoky fumes. By thestove a soldier in a coarse shirt with a necktie and blacktrousers, and with one top-boot on, stood blowing the charcoal ina somovar, using the other boot as bellows. [The long boots wornin Russia have concertina-like sides, and when held to thechimney of the somovar can be used instead of bellows to make thecharcoal inside burn up.] When he saw Nekhludoff, the soldierleft the somovar and helped him off with his waterproof; thenwent into the inner room.

　　"He has come, your honour."

　　"Well, ask him in," came an angry voice.

　　"Go in at the door," said the soldier, and went back to thesomovar.

　　In the next room an officer with fair moustaches and a very redface, dressed in an Austrian jacket that closely fitted his broadchest and shoulders, sat at a covered table, on which were theremains of his dinner and two bottles; there was a strong smellof tobacco and some very strong, cheap scent in the warm room. Onseeing Nekhludoff the officer rose and gazed ironically andsuspiciously, as it seemed, at the newcomer.

　　"What is it you want?" he asked, and, not waiting for a reply,he shouted through the open door:

　　"Bernoff, the somovar! What are you about?"

　　"Coming at once."

　　"You'll get it 'at once' so that you'll remember it," shouted theofficer, and his eyes flashed.

　　"I'm coming," shouted the soldier, and brought in the somovar.Nekhludoff waited while the soldier placed the somovar on thetable. When the officer had followed the soldier out of the roomwith his cruel little eyes looking as if they were aiming wherebest to hit him, he made the tea, got the four-cornered decanterout of his travelling case and some Albert biscuits, and havingplaced all this on the cloth he again turned to Nekhludoff."Well, how can I he of service to you?"

　　"I should like to be allowed to visit a prisoner," saidNekhludoff, without sitting down.

　　"A political one? That's forbidden by the law," said the officer.

　　"The woman I mean is not a political prisoner," said Nekhludoff.

　　"Yes. But pray take a scat," said the officer. Nekhludoff satdown.

　　"She is not a political one, but at my request she has beenallowed by the higher authorities to join the politicalprisoners--"

　　"Oh, yes, I know," interrupted the other; "a little dark one?Well, yes, that can be managed. Won't you smoke?" He moved a boxof cigarettes towards Nekhludoff, and, having carefully pouredout two tumblers of tea, he passed one to Nekhludoff. "If youplease," he said.

　　"Thank you; I should like to see--"

　　"The night is long. You'll have plenty of time. I shall order herto be sent out to you."

　　"But could I not see her where she is? Why need she be sent for?"Nekhludoff said.

　　"In to the political prisoners? It is against the law."

　　"I have been allowed to go in several times. If there is anydanger of my passing anything in to them I could do it throughher just as well.'

　　"Oh, no; she would be searched," said the officer, and laughed inan unpleasant manner.

　　"Well, why not search me?"

　　"All right; we'll manage without that," said the officer, openingthe decanter, and holding it out towards Nekhludoff's tumbler oftea. "May I? No? Well, just as you like. When you are living herein Siberia you are too glad to meet an educated person. Our work,as you know, is the saddest, and when one is used to betterthings it is very hard. The idea they have of us is that convoyofficers are coarse, uneducated men, and no one seems to rememberthat we may have been born for a very different position."

　　This officer's red face, his scents, his rings, and especiallyhis unpleasant laughter disgusted Nekhludoff very much, butto-day, as during the whole of his journey, he was in thatserious, attentive state which did not allow him to behaveslightingly or disdainfully towards any man, but made him feelthe necessity of speaking to every one "entirely," as heexpressed to himself, this relation to men. When he had heard theofficer and understood his state of mind, he said in a seriousmanner:

　　"I think that in your position, too, some comfort could be foundin helping the suffering people," he said.

　　"What are their sufferings? You don't know what these peopleare."

　　"They are not special people," said Nekhludoff ; "they are justsuch people as others, and some of them are quite innocent."

　　"Of course, there are all sorts among them, and naturally onepities them. Others won't let anything off, but I try to lightentheir condition where I can. It's better that I should suffer,but not they. Others keep to the law in every detail, even as faras to shoot, but I show pity. May I?--Take another," he said, andpoured out another tumbler of tea for Nekhludoff.

　　"And who is she, this woman that you want to see?" he asked.

　　"It is an unfortunate woman who got into a brothel, and was therefalsely accused of poisoning, and she is a very good woman,"Nekhludoff answered.

　　The officer shook his head. "Yes, it does happen. I can tell youabout a certain Ernma who lived in Kasan. She was a Hungarian bybirth, but she had quite Persian eyes," he continued, unable torestrain a smile at the recollection; "there was so much chicabout her that a countess--"

　　Nekhludoff interrupted the officer and returned to the formertopic of conversation.

　　"I think that you could lighten the condition of the people whilethey are in your charge. And in acting that way I am sure youwould find great joy!" said Nekhludoff, trying to pronounce asdistinctly as possible, as he might if talking to a foreigner ora child.

　　The officer looked at Nekhludoff impatiently, waiting for him tostop so as to continue the tale about the Hungarian with Persianeyes, who evidently presented herself very vividly to hisimagination and quite absorbed his attention.

　　"Yes, of course, this is all quite true," he said, "and I do pitythem; but I should like to tell you about Emma. What do you thinkshe did--?"

　　"It does not interest me," said Nekhludoff, "and I will tell youstraight, that though I was myself very different at one time, Inow hate that kind of relation to women."

　　The officer gave Nekhludoff a frightened look.

　　"Won't you take some more tea?" he said.

　　"No, thank you."

　　"Bernoff!" the officer called, "take the gentleman to Vakouloff.Tell him to let him into the separate political room. He mayremain there till the inspection."

　　CHAPTER IX.

　　THE POLITICAL PRISONERS.

　　Accompanied by the orderly, Nekhludoff went out into thecourtyard, which was dimly lit up by the red light of the lamps.

　　"Where to?" asked the convoy sergeant, addressing the orderly.

　　"Into the separate cell, No. 5."

　　"You can't pass here; the boss has gone to the village and takenthe keys."

　　"Well, then, pass this way."

　　The soldier led Nekhludoff along a board to another entrance.While still in the yard Nekhludoff could hear the din of voicesand general commotion going on inside as in a beehive when thebees are preparing to swarm; but when he came nearer and the dooropened the din grew louder, and changed into distinct sounds ofshouting, abuse and laughter. He heard the clatter of chairs andsmelt the well-known foul air. This din of voices and the clatterof the chairs, together with the close smell, always flowed intoone tormenting sensation, and produced in Nekhludoff a feeling ofmoral nausea which grew into physical sickness, the two feelingsmingling with and heightening each other.

　　The first thing Nekhludoff saw, on entering, was a large,stinking tub. A corridor into which several doors opened led fromthe entrance. The first was the family room, then the bachelors'room, and at the very end two small rooms were set apart for thepolitical prisoners.

　　The buildings, which were arranged to hold one hundred and fiftyprisoners, now that there were four hundred and fifty inside,were so crowded that the prisoners could not all get into therooms, but filled the passage, too. Some were sitting or lying onthe floor, some were going out with empty teapots, or bringingthem back filled with boiling water. Among the latter was Taras.He overtook Nekhludoff and greeted him affectionately. The kindface of Taras was disfigured by dark bruises on his nose andunder his eye.

　　"What has happened to you?" asked Nekhludoff.

　　"Yes, something did happen," Taras said, with a smile.

　　"All because of the woman," added a prisoner, who followed Taras;"he's had a row with Blind Fedka."

　　"And how's Theodosia?"

　　"She's all right. Here I am bringing her the water for her tea,"Taras answered, and went into the family room.

　　Nekhludoff looked in at the door. The room was crowded with womenand men, some of whom were on and some under the bedsteads; itwas full of steam from the wet clothes that were drying, and thechatter of women's voices was unceasing. The next door led intothe bachelors' room. This room was still more crowded; even thedoorway and the passage in front of it were blocked by a noisycrowd of men, in wet garments, busy doing or deciding somethingor other.

　　The convoy sergeant explained that it was the prisoner appointedto buy provisions, paying off out of the food money what wasowing to a sharper who had won from or lent money to theprisoners, and receiving back little tickets made of playingcards. When they saw the convoy soldier and a gentleman, thosewho were nearest became silent, and followed them with looks ofill-will. Among them Nekhludoff noticed the criminal Fedoroff,whom he knew, and who always kept a miserable lad with a swelledappearance and raised eyebrows beside him, and also a disgusting,noseless, pock-marked tramp, who was notorious among theprisoners because he killed his comrade in the marshes whiletrying to escape, and had, as it was rumoured, fed on his flesh.The tramp stood in the passage with his wet cloak thrown over oneshoulder, looking mockingly and boldly at Nekhludoff, and did notmove out of the way. Nekhludoff passed him by.

　　Though this kind of scene had now become quite familiar to him,though he had during the last three months seen these fourhundred criminal prisoners over and over again in many differentcircumstances; in the heat, enveloped in clouds of dust whichthey raised as they dragged their chained feet along the road,and at the resting places by the way, where the most horriblescenes of barefaced debauchery had occurred, yet every time hecame among them, and felt their attention fixed upon him as itwas now, shame and consciousness of his sin against themtormented him. To this sense of shame and guilt was added anunconquerable feeling of loathing and horror. He knew that,placed in a position such as theirs, they could not he other thanthey were, and yet he was unable to stifle his disgust.

　　"It's well for them do-nothings," Nekhludoff heard some one sayin a hoarse voice as he approached the room of the politicalprisoners. Then followed a word of obscene abuse, and spiteful,mocking laughter.

　　CHAPTER X.

　　MAKAR DEVKIN.

　　When they had passed the bachelors' room the sergeant whoaccompanied Nekhludoff left him, promising to come for him beforethe inspection would take place. As soon as the sergeant was gonea prisoner, quickly stepping with his bare feet and holding upthe chains, came close up to Nekhludoff, enveloping him in thestrong, acid smell of perspiration, and said in a mysteriouswhisper:

　　"Help the lad, sir; he's got into an awful mess. Been drinking.To-day he's given his name as Karmanoff at the inspection. Takehis part, sir. We dare not, or they'll kill us," and lookinguneasily round he turned away.

　　This is what had happened. The criminal Kalmanoff had persuaded ayoung fellow who resembled him in appearance and was sentenced toexile to change names with him and go to the mines instead ofhim, while he only went to exile. Nekhludoff knew all this. Someconvict had told him about this exchange the week before. Henodded as a sign that he understood and would do what was in hispower, and continued his way without looking round.

　　Nekhludoff knew this convict, and was surprised by his action.When in Ekaterinburg the convict had asked Nekhludoff to get apermission for his wife to follow him. The convict was a man ofmedium size and of the most ordinary peasant type, about thirtyyears old. He was condemned to hard labour for an attempt tomurder and rob. His name was Makar Devkin. His crime was a verycurious one. In the account he gave of it to Nekhludoff, he saidit was not his but his devil's doing. He said that a travellerhad come to his father's house and hired his sledge to drive himto a village thirty miles off for two roubles. Makar's fathertold him to drive the stranger. Makar harnessed the horse,dressed, and sat down to drink tea with the stranger. Thestranger related at the tea-table that he was going to be marriedand had five hundred roubles, which he had earned in Moscow, withhim. When he had heard this, Makar went out into the yard and putan axe into the sledge under the straw. "And I did not myselfknow why I was taking the axe," he said. "'Take the axe,' saysHE, and I took it. We got in and started. We drove along allright; I even forgot about the axe. Well, we were getting nearthe village; only about four miles more to go. The way from thecross-road to the high road was up hill, and I got out. I walkedbehind the sledge and HE whispers to me, 'What are you thinkingabout? When you get to the top of the hill you will meet peoplealong the highway, and then there will be the village. He willcarry the money away. If you mean to do it, now's the time.' Istooped over the sledge as if to arrange the straw, and the axeseemed to jump into my hand of itself. The man turned round.'What are you doing?' I lifted the axe and tried to knock himdown, but he was quick, jumped out, and took hold of my hands.'What are you doing, you villain?' He threw me down into thesnow, and I did not even struggle, but gave in at once. He boundmy arms with his girdle, and threw me into the sledge, and tookme straight to the police station. I was imprisoned and tried.The commune gave me a good character, said that I was a good man,and that nothing wrong had been noticed about me. The masters forwhom I worked also spoke well of me, but we had no money toengage a lawyer, and so I was condemned to four years' hardlabour."

　　It was this man who, wishing to save a fellow-villager, knowingthat he was risking his life thereby, told Nekhludoff theprisoner's secret, for doing which (if found out) he shouldcertainly be throttled.

　　CHAPTER XI.

　　MASLOVA AND HER COMPANIONS.

　　The political prisoners were kept in two small rooms, the doorsof which opened into a part of the passage partitioned off fromthe rest. The first person Nekhludoff saw on entering into thispart of the passage was Simonson in his rubber jacket and with alog of pine wood in his hands, crouching in front of a stove, thedoor of which trembled, drawn in by the heat inside.

　　When he saw Nekhludoff he looked up at him from under hisprotruding brow, and gave him his hand without rising.

　　"I am glad you have come; I want to speak to you," he said,looking Nekhludoff straight in the eyes with an expression ofimportance.

　　"Yes; what is it?" Nekhludoff asked.

　　"It will do later on; I am busy just now," and Simonson turnedagain towards the stove, which he was heating according to atheory of his own, so as to lose as little heat energy aspossible.

　　Nekhludoff was going to enter in at the first door, when Maslova,stooping and pushing a large heap of rubbish and dust towards thestove with a handleless birch broom, came out of the other. Shehad a white jacket on, her skirt was tucked up, and a kerchief,drawn down to her eyebrows, protected her hair from the dust.When she saw Nekhludoff, she drew herself up, flushing andanimated, put down the broom, wiped her hands on her skirt, andstopped right in front of him. "You are tidying up theapartments, I see," said Nekhludoff, shaking hands.

　　"Yes; my old occupation," and she smiled. "But the dirt! Youcan't imagine what it is. We have been cleaning and cleaning.Well, is the plaid dry?" she asked, turning to Simonson.

　　"Almost," Simonson answered, giving her a strange look, whichstruck Nekhludoff.

　　"All right, I'll come for it, and will bring the cloaks to dry.Our people are all in here," she said to Nekhludoff, pointing tothe first door as she went out of the second.

　　Nekhludoff opened the door and entered a small room dimly lit bya little metal lamp, which was standing low down on the shelfbedstead. It was cold in the room, and there was a smell of thedust, which had not had time to settle, damp and tobacco smoke.

　　Only those who were close to the lamp were clearly visible, thebedsteads were in the shade and wavering shadows glided over thewalls. Two men, appointed as caterers, who had gone to fetchboiling water and provisions, were away; most of the politicalprisoners were gathered together in the small room. There wasNekhludoff's old acquaintance, Vera Doukhova, with her large,frightened eyes, and the swollen vein on her forehead, in a greyjacket with short hair, and thinner and yellower than ever.. Shehad a newspaper spread out in front of her, and sat rollingcigarettes with a jerky movement of her hands.

　　Emily Rintzeva, whom Nekhludoff considered to be the pleasantestof the political prisoners, was also here. She looked after thehousekeeping, and managed to spread a feeling of home comforteven in the midst of the most trying surroundings. She sat besidethe lamp, with her sleeves rolled up, wiping cups and mugs, andplacing them, with her deft, red and sunburnt hands, on a cloththat was spread on the bedstead. Rintzeva was a plain-lookingyoung woman, with a clever and mild expression of face, which,when she smiled, had a way of suddenly becoming merry, animatedand captivating. It was with such a smile that she now welcomedNekhludoff.

　　"Why, we thought you had gone back to Russia," she said.

　　Here in a dark corner was also Mary Pavlovna, busy with a little,fair-haired girl, who kept prattling in her sweet, childishaccents.

　　"How nice that you have come," she said to Nekhludoff.

　　Have you seen Katusha? And we have a visitor here," and shepointed to the little girl.

　　Here was also Anatole Kryltzoff with felt boots on, sitting in afar corner with his feet under him, doubled up and shivering, hisarms folded in the sleeves of his cloak, and looking atNekhludoff with feverish eyes. Nekhludoff was going up to him,but to the right of the door a man with spectacles and reddishcurls, dressed in a rubber jacket, sat talking to the pretty,smiling Grabetz. This was the celebrated revolutionistNovodvoroff. Nekhludoff hastened to greet him. He was in aparticular hurry about it, because this man was the only oneamong all the political prisoners whom he disliked. Novodvoroff'seyes glistened through his spectacles as he looked at Nekhludoffand held his narrow hand out to him.

　　"Well, are you having a pleasant journey?" he asked, withapparent irony.

　　"Yes, there is much that is interesting," Nekhludoff answered, asif he did not notice the irony, but took the question forpoliteness, and passed on to Kryltzoff.

　　Though Nekhludoff appeared indifferent, he was really far fromindifferent, and these words of Novodvoroff, showing his evidentdesire to say or do something unpleasant, interfered with thestate of kindness in which Nekhludoff found himself, and he feltdepressed and sad.

　　"Well, how are you?" he asked, pressing Kryltzoff's cold andtrembling hand.

　　"Pretty well, only I cannot get warm; I got wet through,"Kryltzoff answered, quickly replacing his hands into the sleevesof his cloak. "And here it is also beastly cold. There, look, thewindow-panes are broken," and he pointed to the broken panesbehind the iron bars. "And how are you? Why did you not come?"

　　"I was not allowed to, the authorities were so strict, but to-daythe officer is lenient."

　　"Lenient indeed!" Kryltzoff remarked. "Ask Mary what she did thismorning."

　　Mary Pavlovna from her place in the corner related what hadhappened about the little girl that morning when they left thehalting station.

　　"I think it is absolutely necessary to make a collectiveprotest," said Vera Doukhova, in a determined tone, and yetlooking now at one, now at another, with a frightened, undecidedlook. "Valdemar Simonson did protest, but that is notsufficient."

　　"What protest!" muttered Kryltzoff, cross and frowning. Her wantof simplicity, artificial tone and nervousness had evidently beenirritating him for a long time.

　　"Are you looking for Katusha?" he asked, addressing Nekhludoff."She is working all the time. She has cleaned this, the men'sroom, and now she has gone to clean the women's! Only it is notpossible to clean away the fleas. And what is Mary doing there?"he asked, nodding towards the corner where Mary Pavlovna sat.

　　"She is combing out her adopted daughter's hair," repliedRintzeva.

　　"But won't she let the insects loose on us?" asked Kryltzoff.

　　"No, no; I am very careful. She is a clean little girl now. Youtake her," said Mary, turning to Rintzeva, "while I go and helpKatusha, and I will also bring him his plaid."

　　Rintzeva took the little girl on her lap, pressing her plump,bare, little arms to her bosom with a mother's tenderness, andgave her a bit of sugar. As Mary Pavlovna left the room, two mencame in with boiling water and provisions.

　　CHAPTER XII.

　　NABATOFF AND MARKEL.

　　One of the men who came in was a short, thin, young man, who hada cloth-covered sheepskin coat on, and high top-boots. He steppedlightly and quickly, carrying two steaming teapots, and holding aloaf wrapped in a cloth under his arm.

　　"Well, so our prince has put in an appearance again," he said, ashe placed the teapot beside the cups, and handed the bread toRintzeva. "We have bought wonderful things," he continued, as hetook off his sheepskin, and flung it over the heads of the othersinto the corner of the bedstead. "Markel has bought milk andeggs. Why, we'll have a regular ball to-day. And Rintzeva isspreading out her aesthetic cleanliness," he said, and lookedwith a smile at Rintzeva, "and now she will make the tea."

　　The whole presence of this man--his motion, his voice, hislook--seemed to breathe vigour and merriment. The other newcomerwas just the reverse of the first. He looked despondent and sad.He was short, bony, had very prominent cheek bones, a sallowcomplexion, thin lips and beautiful, greenish eyes, rather farapart. He wore an old wadded coat, top-boots and goloshes, andwas carrying two pots of milk and two round boxes made of birchbark, which he placed in front of Rintzeva. He bowed toNekhludoff, bending only his neck, and with his eyes fixed onhim. Then, having reluctantly given him his damp hand to shake,he began to take out the provisions.

　　Both these political prisoners were of the people; the first wasNabatoff, a peasant; the second, Markel Kondratieff, a factoryhand. Markel did not come among the revolutionists till he wasquite a man, Nabatoff only eighteen. After leaving the villageschool, owing to his exceptional talents Nabatoff entered thegymnasium, and maintained himself by giving lessons all the timehe studied there, and obtained the gold medal. He did not go tothe university because, while still in the seventh class of thegymnasium, he made up his mind to go among the people andenlighten his neglected brethren. This he did, first getting theplace of a Government clerk in a large village. He was soonarrested because he read to the peasants and arranged aco-operative industrial association among them. They kept himimprisoned for eight months and then set him free, but heremained under police supervision. As soon as he was liberated hewent to another village, got a place as schoolmaster, and did thesame as he had done in the first village. He was again taken upand kept fourteen months in prison, where his convictions becameyet stronger. After that he was exiled to the Perm Government,from where he escaped. Then he was put to prison for seven monthsand after that exiled to Archangel. There he refused to take theoath of allegiance that was required of them and was condemned tobe exiled to the Takoutsk Government, so that half his life sincehe reached manhood was passed in prison and exile. All theseadventures did not embitter him nor weaken his energy, but ratherstimulated it. He was a lively young fellow, with a splendiddigestion, always active, gay and vigorous. He never repented ofanything, never looked far ahead, and used all his powers, hiscleverness, his practical knowledge to act in the present. Whenfree he worked towards the aim he had set himself, theenlightening and the uniting of the working men, especially thecountry labourers. When in prison he was just as energetic andpractical in finding means to come in contact with the outerworld, and in arranging his own life and the life of his group ascomfortably as the conditions would allow. Above all things hewas a communist. He wanted, as it seemed to him, nothing forhimself and contented himself with very little, but demanded verymuch for the group of his comrades, and could work for it eitherphysically or mentally day and night, without sleep or food. As apeasant he had been industrious, observant, clever at his work,and naturally self-controlled, polite without any effort, andattentive not only to the wishes but also the opinions of others.His widowed mother, an illiterate, superstitious, old peasantwoman, was still living, and Nabatoff helped her and went to seeher while he was free. During the time he spent at home heentered into all the interests of his mother's life, helped herin her work, and continued his intercourse with formerplayfellows; smoked cheap tobacco with them in so-called "dog'sfeet," [a kind of cigarette that the peasants smoke, made of abit of paper and bent at one end into a hook] took part in theirfist fights, and explained to them how they were all beingdeceived by the State, and how they ought to disentanglethemselves out of the deception they were kept in.  When hethought or spoke of what a revolution would do for the people healways imagined this people from whom he had sprung himself leftin very nearly the same conditions as they were in, only withsufficient land and without the gentry and without officials. Therevolution, according to him, and in this he differed fromNovodvoroff and Novodvoroff's follower, Markel Kondratieff,should not alter the elementary forms of the life of the people,should not break down the whole edifice, but should only alterthe inner walls of the beautiful, strong, enormous old structurehe loved so dearly. He was also a typical peasant in his views onreligion, never thinking about metaphysical questions, about theorigin of all origin, or the future life.  God was to him, asalso to Arago, an hypothesis, which he had had no need of up tonow. He had no business with the origin of the world, whetherMoses or Darwin was right. Darwinism, which seemed so importantto his fellows, was only the same kind of plaything of the mindas the creation in six days. The question how the world hadoriginated did not interest him, just because the question how itwould be best to live in this world was ever before him. He neverthought about future life, always bearing in the depth of hissoul the firm and quiet conviction inherited from hisforefathers, and common to all labourers on the land, that justas in the world of plants and animals nothing ceases to exist,but continually changes its form, the manure into grain, thegrain into a food, the tadpole into a frog, the caterpillar intoa butterfly, the acorn into an oak, so man also does not perish,but only undergoes a change. He believed in this, and thereforealways looked death straight in the face, and bravely bore thesufferings that lead towards it, but did not care and did notknow how to speak about it. He loved work, was always employed insome practical business, and put his comrades in the way of thesame kind of practical work.

　　The other political prisoner from among the people, MarkelKondratieff, was a very different kind of man. He began to workat the age of fifteen, and took to smoking and drinking in orderto stifle a dense sense of being wronged. He first realised hewas wronged one Christmas when they, the factory children, wereinvited to a Christmas tree, got up by the employer's wife, wherehe received a farthing whistle, an apple, a gilt walnut and afig, while the employer's children had presents given them whichseemed gifts from fairyland, and had cost more than fiftyroubles, as he afterwards heard.

　　When he was twenty a celebrated revolutionist came to theirfactory to work as a working girl, and noticing his superiorqualities began giving books and pamphlets to Kondratieff and totalk and explain his position to him, and how to remedy it. Whenthe possibility of freeing himself and others from theiroppressed state rose clearly in his mind, the injustice of thisstate appeared more cruel and more terrible than before, and helonged passionately not only for freedom, but also for thepunishment of those who had arranged and who kept up this cruelinjustice. Kondratieff devoted himself with passion to theacquirement of knowledge. It was not clear to him how knowledgeshould bring about the realisation of the social ideal, but hebelieved that the knowledge that had shown him the injustice ofthe state in which he lived would also abolish that injusticeitself. Besides knowledge would, in his opinion, raise him aboveothers. Therefore he left off drinking_ and smoking, and devotedall his leisure time to study. The revolutionist gave himlessons, and his thirst for every kind of knowledge, and thefacility with which he took it in, surprised her. In two years hehad mastered algebra, geometry, history--which he was speciallyfond of--and made acquaintance with artistic and critical, andespecially socialistic literature. The revolutionist wasarrested, and Kondratieff with her, forbidden books having beenfound in their possession, and they were imprisoned and thenexiled to the Vologda Government. There Kondratieff becameacquainted with Novodvoroff, and read a great deal morerevolutionary literature, remembered it all, and became stillfirmer in his socialistic views. While in exile he became leaderin a large strike, which ended in the destruction of a factoryand the murder of the director. He was again arrested andcondemned to Siberia.

　　His religious views were of the same negative nature as his viewsof the existing economic conditions. Having seen the absurdity ofthe religion in which he was brought up, and having gained withgreat effort, and at first with fear, but later with rapture,freedom from it, he did not tire of viciously and with venomridiculing priests and religious dogmas, as if wishing to revengehimself for the deception that had been practised on him.

　　He was ascetic through habit, contented himself with very little,and, like all those used to work from childhood and whose muscleshave been developed, he could work much and easily, and was quickat any manual labour; but what he valued most was the leisure inprisons and halting stations, which enabled him to continue hisstudies. He was now studying the first volume of Karl Marks's,and carefully hid the book in his sack as if it were a greattreasure. He behaved with reserve and indifference to all hiscomrades, except Novodvoroff, to whom he was greatly attached,and whose arguments on all subjects he accepted as unanswerabletruths.

　　He had an indefinite contempt for women, whom he looked upon as ahindrance in all necessary business. But he pitied Maslova andwas gentle with her, for he considered her an example of the waythe lower are exploited by the upper classes. The same reasonmade him dislike Nekhludoff, so that he talked little with him,and never pressed Nekhludoff's hand, but only held out his own tobe pressed when greeting him.

　　CHAPTER XIII.

　　LOVE AFFAIRS OF THE EXILES.

　　The stove had burned up and got warm, the tea was made and pouredout into mugs and cups, and milk was added to it; rusks, freshrye and wheat bread, hard-boiled eggs, butter, and calf's headand feet were placed on the cloth. Everybody moved towards thepart of the shelf beds which took the place of the table and sateating and talking. Rintzeva sat on a box pouring out the tea.The rest crowded round her, only Kryltzoff, who had taken off hiswet cloak and wrapped himself in his dry plaid and lay in his ownplace talking to Nekhludoff.

　　After the cold and damp march and the dirt and disorder they hadfound here, and after the pains they had taken to get it tidy,after having drunk hot tea and eaten, they were all in the bestand brightest of spirits.

　　The fact that the tramp of feet, the screams and abuse of thecriminals, reached them through the wall, reminding them of theirsurroundings, seemed only to increase the sense of coziness. Ason an island in the midst of the sea, these people feltthemselves for a brief interval not swamped by the degradationand sufferings which surrounded them; this made their spiritsrise, and excited them. They talked about everything except theirpresent position and that which awaited them. Then, as itgenerally happens among young men, and women especially, if theyare forced to remain together, as these people were, all sorts ofagreements and disagreements and attractions, curiously blended,had sprung up among them. Almost all of them were in love.Novodvoroff was in love with the pretty, smiling Grabetz. ThisGrabetz was a young, thoughtless girl who had gone in for acourse of study, perfectly indifferent to revolutionaryquestions, but succumbing to the influence of the day, shecompromised herself in some way and was exiled. The chiefinterest of her life during the time of her trial in prison andin exile was her success with men, just as it had been when shewas free. Now on the way she comforted herself with the fact thatNovodvoroff had taken a fancy to her, and she fell in love withhim. Vera Doukhova, who was very prone to fall in love herself,but did not awaken love in others, though she was always hopingfor mutual love, was sometimes drawn to Nabatoff, then toNovodvoroff. Kryltzoff felt something like love for MaryPavlovna. He loved her with a man's love, but knowing how sheregarded this sort of love, hid his feelings under the guise offriendship and gratitude for the tenderness with which sheattended to his wants. Nabatoff and Rintzeva were attached toeach other by very complicated ties. Just as Mary Pavlovna was aperfectly chaste maiden, in the same way Rintzeva was perfectlychaste as her own husband's wife. When only a schoolgirl ofsixteen she fell in love with Rintzeff, a student of thePetersburg University, and married him before he left theuniversity, when she was only nineteen years old. During hisfourth year at the university her husband had become involved inthe students' rows, was exiled from Petersburg, and turnedrevolutionist. She left the medical courses she was attending,followed him, and also turned revolutionist. If she had notconsidered her husband the cleverest and best of men she wouldnot have fallen in love with him; and if she had not fallen inlove would not have married; but having fallen in love andmarried him whom she thought the best and cleverest of men, shenaturally looked upon life and its aims in the way the best andcleverest of men looked at them. At first he thought the aim oflife was to learn, and she looked upon study as the aim of life.He became a revolutionist, and so did she. She could demonstratevery clearly that the existing state of things could not go on,and that it was everybody's duty to fight this state of thingsand to try to bring about conditions in which the individualcould develop freely, etc. And she imagined that she reallythought and felt all this, but in reality she only regardedeverything her husband thought as absolute truth, and only soughtfor perfect agreement, perfect identification of her own soulwith his which alone could give her full moral satisfaction. Theparting with her husband and their child, whom her mother hadtaken, was very hard to bear; but she bore it firmly and quietly,since it was for her husband's sake and for that cause which shehad not the slightest doubt was true, since he served it. She wasalways with her husband in thoughts, and did not love and couldnot love any other any more than she had done before. ButNabatoff's devoted and pure love touched and excited her. Thismoral, firm man, her husband's friend, tried to treat her as asister, but something more appeared in his behaviour to her, andthis something frightened them both, and yet gave colour to theirlife of hardship.

　　So that in all this circle only Mary Pavlovna and Kondratieffwere quite free from love affairs.

　　CHAPTER XIV.

　　CONVERSATIONS IN PRISON.

　　Expecting to have a private talk with Katusha, as usual, aftertea, Nekhludoff sat by the side of Kryltzoff, conversing withhim. Among other things he told him the story of Makar's crimeand about his request to him. Kryltzoff listened attentively,gazing at Nekhludoff with glistening eyes.

　　"Yes," said Kryltzoff suddenly, "I often think that here we aregoing side by side with them, and who are they? The same forwhose sake we are going, and yet we not only do not know them,but do not even wish to know them. And they, even worse thanthat, they hate us and look upon us as enemies. This isterrible."

　　"There is nothing terrible about it," broke in Novodvoroff. "Themasses always worship power only. The government is in power, andthey worship it and hate us. To-morrow we shall have the power,and they will worship us," he said with his grating voice. Atthat moment a volley of abuse and the rattle of chains soundedfrom behind the wall, something was heard thumping against it andscreaming and shrieking, some one was being beaten, and some onewas calling out, "Murder! help!"

　　"Hear them, the beasts! What intercourse can there be between usand such as them?" quietly remarked Novodvoroff.

　　"You call them beasts, and Nekhludoff was just telling me aboutsuch an action!" irritably retorted Kryltzoff, and went on to sayhow Makar was risking his life to save a fellow-villager. "Thatis not the action of a beast, it is heroism."

　　"Sentimentality!" Novodvoroff ejaculated ironically; "it isdifficult for us to understand the emotions of these people andthe motives on which they act. You see generosity in the act, andit may be simply jealousy of that other criminal."

　　"How is it that you never wish to see anything good inanother? " Mary Pavlovna said suddenly, flaring up.

　　"How can one see what does not exist!"

　　"How does it not exist, when a man risks dying a terribledeath?"

　　"I think," said Novodvoroff, "that if we mean to do ourwork, the first condition is that" (here Kondratieff putdown the book he was reading by the lamplight and beganto listen attentively to his master's words) "we should notgive way to fancy, but look at things as they are. We shoulddo all in our power for the masses, and expect nothing inreturn. The masses can only be the object of our activity,but cannot be our fellow-workers as long as they remain inthat state of inertia they are in at present," he went on, asif delivering a lecture. "Therefore, to expect help fromthem before the process of development--that process whichwe are preparing them for--has taken place is an illusion."

　　"What process of development? " Kryltzoff began, flushingall over. "We say that we are against arbitrary ruleand despotism, and is this not the most awful despotism?"

　　"No despotism whatever," quietly rejoined Novodvoroff. "I amonly saying that I know the path that the people must travel, andcan show them that path."

　　"But how can you be sure that the path you show is the true path?Is this not the same kind of despotism that lay at the bottom ofthe Inquisition, all persecutions, and the great revolution?They, too, knew the one true way, by means of their science."

　　"Their having erred is no proof of my going to err; besides,there is a great difference between the ravings of idealogues andthe facts based on sound, economic science." Novodvoroff's voicefilled the room; he alone was speaking, all the rest were silent.

　　"They are always disputing," Mary Pavlovna said, when there was amoment's silence.

　　"And you yourself, what do you think about it?" Nekhludoff asked her.

　　"I think Kryltzoff is right when he says we should not force ourviews on the people."

　　"And you, Katusha? " asked Nekhludoff with a smile,waiting anxiously for her answer, fearing she would saysomething awkward.

　　I think the common people are wronged," she said, and blushedscarlet. "I think they are dreadfully wronged."

　　"That's right, Maslova, quite right," cried Nabatoff. "They areterribly wronged, the people, and they must not he wronged, andtherein lies the whole of our task."

　　"A curious idea of the object of revolution," Novodvoroffremarked crossly, and began to smoke.

　　"I cannot talk to him," said Kryltzoff in a whisper, and wassilent.

　　"And it is much better not to talk," Nekhludoff said.

　　CHAPTER XV.

　　NOVODVOROFF.

　　Although Novodvoroff was highly esteemed of all therevolutionists, though he was very learned, and considered verywise, Nekhludoff reckoned him among those of the revolutionistswho, being below the average moral level, were very far below it.His inner life was of a nature directly opposite to that ofSimonson's. Simonson was one of those people (of an essentiallymasculine type) whose actions follow the dictates of theirreason, and are determined by it. Novodvoroff belonged, on thecontrary, to the class of people of a feminine type, whose reasonis directed partly towards the attainment of aims set by theirfeelings, partly to the justification of acts suggested by theirfeelings. The whole of Novodvoroff's revolutionary activity,though he could explain it very eloquently and very convincingly,appeared to Nekhludoff to be founded on nothing but ambition andthe desire for supremacy. At first his capacity for assimilatingthe thoughts of others, and of expressing them correctly, hadgiven him a position of supremacy among pupils and teachers inthe gymnasium and the university, where qualities such as his arehighly prized, and he was satisfied. When he had finished hisstudies and received his diploma he suddenly altered his views,and from a modern liberal he turned into a rabid Narodovoletz, inorder (so Kryltzoff, who did not like him, said) to gainsupremacy in another sphere.

　　As he was devoid of those moral and aesthetic qualities whichcall forth doubts and hesitation, he very soon acquired aposition in the revolutionary world which satisfied him--that ofthe leader of a party. Having once chosen a direction, he neverdoubted or hesitated, and was therefore certain that he nevermade a mistake. Everything seemed quite simple, clear andcertain. And the narrowness and one-sidedness of his views didmake everything seem simple and clear. One only had to belogical, as he said. His self-assurance was so great that iteither repelled people or made them submit to him. As he carriedon his work among very young people, his boundless self-assuranceled them to believe him very profound and wise; the majority didsubmit to him, and he had a great success in revolutionarycircles. His activity was directed to the preparation of a risingin which he was to usurp the power and call together a council. Aprogramme, composed by him, should he proposed before thecouncil, and he felt sure that this programme of his solved everyproblem, and that it would he impossible not to carry it out.

　　His comrades respected but did not love him. He did not love anyone, looked upon all men of note as upon rivals, and would havewillingly treated them as old male monkeys treat young ones if hecould have done it. He would have torn all mental power, everycapacity, from other men, so that they should not interfere withthe display of his talents. He behaved well only to those whobowed before him. Now, on the journey he behaved well toKondratieff, who was influenced by his propaganda; to VeraDoukhova and pretty little Grabetz, who were both in love withhim. Although in principle he was in favour of the woman'smovement, yet in the depth of his soul he considered all womenstupid and insignificant except those whom he was sentimentallyin love with (as he was now in love with Grabetz), and such womenhe considered to be exceptions, whose merits he alone was capableof discerning.

　　The question of the relations of the sexes he also looked upon asthoroughly solved by accepting free union. He had one nominal andone real wife, from both of whom he was separated, having come tothe conclusion that there was no real love between them, and nowhe thought of entering on a free union with Grabetz. He despisedNekhludoff for "playing the fool," as Novodvoroff termed it, withMaslova, but especially for the freedom Nekhludoff took ofconsidering the defects of the existing system and the methods ofcorrecting those defects in a manner which was not only notexactly the same as Novodvoroff's, but was Nekhludoff's own--aprince's, that is, a fool's manner. Nekhludoff felt this relationof Novodvoroff's towards him, and knew to his sorrow that inspite of the state of good will in which he found himself on thisjourney he could not help paying this man in his own coin, andcould not stifle the strong antipathy he felt for him.

　　CHAPTER XVI.

　　SIMONSON SPEAKS TO NEKHLUDOFF.

　　The voices of officials sounded from the next room. All theprisoners were silent, and a sergeant, followed by two convoysoldiers, entered. The time of the inspection had come. Thesergeant counted every one, and when Nekhludoff's turn came headdressed him with kindly familiarity.

　　"You must not stay any longer, Prince, after the inspection; youmust go now."

　　Nekhludoff knew what this meant, went up to the sergeant andshoved a three-rouble note into his hand.

　　"Ah, well, what is one to do with you; stay a bit longer, if youlike." The sergeant was about to go when another sergeant,followed by a convict, a spare man with a thin beard and a bruiseunder his eye, came in.

　　"It's about the girl I have come," said the convict.

　　"Here's daddy come," came the ringing accents of a child's voice,and a flaxen head appeared from behind Rintzeva, who, withKatusha's and Mary Pavlovna's help, was making a new garment forthe child out of one of Rintzeva's own petticoats.

　　"Yes, daughter, it's me," Bousovkin, the prisoner, said softly.

　　"She is quite comfortable here," said Mary Pavlovna, looking withpity at Bousovkin's bruised face. "Leave her with us."

　　"The ladies are making me new clothes," said the girl, pointingto Rintzeva's sewing--"nice red ones," she went on, prattling.

　　"Do you wish to sleep with us?" asked Rintzeva, caressing thechild.

　　"Yes, I wish. And daddy, too."

　　"No, daddy can't. Well, leave her then," she said, turning to thefather.

　　"Yes, you may leave her," said the first sergeant, and went outwith the other.

　　As soon as they were out of the room Nabatoff went up toBousovkin, slapped him on the shoulder, and said: "I say, oldfellow, is it true that Karmanoff wishes to exchange?"

　　Bousovkin's kindly, gentle face turned suddenly sad and a veilseemed to dim his eyes.

　　"We have heard nothing--hardly," he said, and with the samedimness still over his eyes he turned to the child.

　　"Well, Aksutka, it seems you're to make yourself comfortable withthe ladies," and he hurried away.

　　"It's true about the exchange, and he knows it very well," saidNabatoff.

　　"What are you going to do?"

　　"I shall tell the authorities in the next town. I know bothprisoners by sight," said Nekhludoff.

　　All were silent, fearing a recommencement of the dispute.

　　Simonson, who had been lying with his arms thrown back behind hishead, and not speaking, rose, and determinately walked up toNekhludoff, carefully passing round those who were sitting.

　　"Could you listen to me now?

　　"Of course," and Nekhludoff rose and followed him.

　　Katusha looked up with an expression of suspense, and meetingNekhludoff's eyes, she blushed and shook her head.

　　"What I want to speak to you about is this," Simonson began, whenthey had come out into the passage. In the passage the din of thecriminal's voices and shouts sounded louder. Nekhludoff made aface, but Simonson did not seem to take any notice.

　　"Knowing of your relations to Katerina Maslova," he beganseriously and frankly, with his kind eyes looking straight intoNekhludoff's face, "I consider it my duty"--He was obliged tostop because two voices were heard disputing and shouting, bothat once, close to the door.

　　"I tell you, blockhead, they are not mine," one voice shouted.

　　"May you choke, you devil," snorted the other.

　　At this moment Mary Pavlovna came out into the passage.

　　"How can one talk here?" she said; "go in, Vera is alone there,"and she went in at the second door, and entered a tiny room,evidently meant for a solitary cell, which was now placed at thedisposal of the political women prisoners, Vera Doukhova laycovered up, head and all, on the bed.

　　"She has got a headache, and is asleep, so she cannot hear you,and I will go away," said Mary Pavlovna.

　　"On the contrary, stay here," said Simonson; "I have no secretsfrom any one, certainly none from you."

　　"All right," said Mary Pavlovna, and moving her whole body fromside to side, like a child, so as to get farther back on to thebed, she settled down to listen, her beautiful hazel eyes seemingto look somewhere far away.

　　"Well, then, this is my business," Simonson repeated. "Knowing ofyour relations to Katerina Maslova, I consider myself bound toexplain to you my relations to her."

　　Nekhludoff could not help admiring the simplicity andtruthfulness with which Simonson spoke to him.

　　"What do you mean?"

　　"I mean that I should like to marry Katerina Maslova--"

　　"How strange!" said Mary Pavlovna, fixing her eyes on Simonson.

　　"--And so I made up my mind to ask her to be my wife," Simonsoncontinued.

　　"What can I do? It depends on her," said Nekhludoff.

　　"Yes; but she will not come to any decision without you."

　　"Why?"

　　"Because as long as your relations with her are unsettled shecannot make up her mind."

　　"As far as I am concerned, it is finally settled. I should liketo do what I consider to be my duty and also to lighten her fate,but on no account would I wish to put any restraint on her."

　　"Yes, but she does not wish to accept your sacrifice."

　　"It is no sacrifice."

　　"And I know that this decision of hers is final."

　　"Well, then, there is no need to speak to me," said Nekhludoff.

　　"She wants you to acknowledge that you think as she does."

　　"How can I acknowledge that I must not do what I consider to bemy duty? All I can say is that I am not free, but she is."

　　Simonson was silent; then, after thinking a little, he said:"Very well, then, I'll tell her. You must not think I am in lovewith her," he continued; "I love her as a splendid, unique,human being who has suffered much. I want nothing from her. Ihave only an awful longing to help her, to lighten her posi--"

　　Nekhludoff was surprised to hear the trembling in Simonson'svoice.

　　"--To lighten her position," Simonson continued. "If she does notwish to accept your help, let her accept mine. If she consents, Ishall ask to be sent to the place where she will be imprisoned.Four years are not an eternity. I would live near her, andperhaps might lighten her fate--" and he again stopped, tooagitated to continue.

　　"What am I to say?" said Nekhludoff. "I am very glad she hasfound such a protector as you--"

　　"That's what I wanted to know," Simonson interrupted.

　　"I wanted to know if, loving her and wishing her happiness, youwould consider it good for her to marry me?"

　　"Oh, yes," said Nekhludoff decidedly.

　　"It all depends on her; I only wish that this suffering soulshould find rest," said Simonson, with such childlike tendernessas no one could have expected from so morose-looking a man.

　　Simonson rose, and stretching his lips out to Nekhludoff, smiledshyly and kissed him.

　　"So I shall tell her," and he went away.

　　CHAPTER XVII.

　　"I HAVE NOTHING MORE TO SAY."

　　"What do you think of that?" said Mary Pavlovna. "In love--quitein love. Now, that's a thing I never should have expected, thatValdemar Simonson should be in love, and in the silliest, mostboyish manner. It is strange, and, to say the truth, it is sad,"and she sighed.

　　"But she? Katusha? How does she look at it, do you think?"Nekhludoff asked.

　　"She?" Mary Pavlovna waited, evidently wishing to give as exactan answer as possible. "She? Well, you see, in spite of her pastshe has one of the most moral natures--and such fine feelings.She loves you--loves you well, and is happy to be able to do youeven the negative good of not letting you get entangled with her.Marriage with you would be a terrible fall for her, worse thanall that's past, and therefore she will never consent to it. Andyet your presence troubles her."

　　"Well, what am I to do? Ought I to vanish?"

　　Mary Pavlovna smiled her sweet, childlike smile, and said, "Yes,partly."

　　"How is one to vanish partly?"

　　"I am talking nonsense. But as for her, I should like to tell youthat she probably sees the silliness of this rapturous kind oflove (he has not spoken to her), and is both flattered and afraidof it. I am not competent to judge in such affairs, you know,still I believe that on his part it is the most ordinary man'sfeeling, though it is masked. He says that this love arouses hisenergy and is Platonic, but I know that even if it isexceptional, still at the bottom it is degrading."

　　Mary Pavlovna had wandered from the subject, having started onher favourite theme.

　　"Well, but what am I to do?" Nekhludoff asked.

　　"I think you should tell her everything; it is always best thateverything should be clear. Have a talk with her; I shall callher. Shall I?" said Mary Pavlovna.

　　"If you please," said Nekhludoff, and Mary Pavlovna went.

　　A strange feeling overcame Nekhludoff when he was alone in thelittle room with the sleeping Vera Doukhova, listening to hersoft breathing, broken now and then by moans, and to theincessant dirt that came through the two doors that separated himfrom the criminals. What Simonson had told him freed him from theself-imposed duty, which had seemed hard and strange to him inhis weak moments, and yet now he felt something that was notmerely unpleasant but painful.

　　He had a feeling that this offer of Simonson's destroyed theexceptional character of his sacrifice, and thereby lessened itsvalue in his own and others' eyes; if so good a man who was notbound to her by any kind of tie wanted to join his fate to hers,then this sacrifice was not so great. There may have also been anadmixture of ordinary jealousy. He had got so used to her lovethat he did not like to admit that she loved another.

　　Then it also upset the plans he had formed of living near herwhile she was doing her term. If she married Simonson hispresence would be unnecessary, and he would have to form newplans.

　　Before he had time to analyse his feelings the loud din of theprisoners' voices came in with a rush (something special wasgoing on among them to-day) as the door opened to let Katusha in.

　　She stepped briskly close up to him and said, "Mary Pavlovna hassent me."

　　"Yes, I must have a talk with you. Sit down. Valdemar Simonsonhas been speaking to me."

　　She sat down and folded her hands in her lap and seemed quitecalm, but hardly had Nekhludoff uttered Simonson's name when sheflushed crimson.

　　"What did he say?" she asked.

　　"He told me he wanted to marry you."

　　Her face suddenly puckered up with pain, but she said nothing andonly cast down her eyes.

　　"He is asking for my consent or my advice. I told him that it alldepends entirely on you--that you must decide."

　　"Ah, what does it all mean? Why?" she muttered, and looked inhis eyes with that peculiar squint that always strangely affectedNekhludoff.

　　They sat silent for a few minutes looking into each other's eyes,and this look told much to both of them.

　　"You must decide," Nekhludoff repeated.

　　"What am I to decide? Everything has long been decided."

　　"No; you must decide whether you will accept Mr. Simonson'soffer," said Nekhludoff.

　　"What sort of a wife can I be--I, a convict? Why should I ruinMr. Simonson, too?" she said, with a frown.

　　"Well, but if the sentence should be mitigated."

　　"Oh, leave me alone. I have nothing more to say," she said, androse to leave the room.

　　CHAPTER XVIII.

　　NEVEROFF'S FATE.

　　When, following Katusha, Nekhludoff returned to the men's room,he found every one there in agitation. Nabatoff, who went aboutall over the place, and who got to know everybody, and noticedeverything, had just brought news which staggered them all. Thenews was that he had discovered a note on a wall, written by therevolutionist Petlin, who had been sentenced to hard labour, andwho, every one thought, had long since reached the Kara; and nowit turned out that he had passed this way quite recently, theonly political prisoner among criminal convicts.

　　"On the 17th of August," so ran the note, "I was sent off alonewith the criminals. Neveroff was with me, but hanged himself inthe lunatic asylum in Kasan. I am well and in good spirits andhope for the best."

　　All were discussing Petlin's position and the possible reasons ofNeveroff's suicide. Only Kryltzoff sat silent and preoccupied,his glistening eyes gazing fixedly in front of him.

　　"My husband told me that Neveroff had a vision while still in thePetropavlovski prison," said Rintzeva.

　　"Yes, he was a poet, a dreamer; this sort of people cannot standsolitary confinement," said Novodvoroff. "Now, I never gave myimagination vent when in solitary confinement, but arranged mydays most systematically, and in this way always bore it verywell."

　　"What is there unbearable about it? Why, I used to be glad whenthey locked me up," said Nabatoff cheerfully, wishing to dispelthe general depression.

　　"A fellow's afraid of everything; of being arrested himself andentangling others, and of spoiling the whole business, and thenhe gets locked up, and all responsibility is at an end, and hecan rest; he can just sit and smoke."

　　"You knew him well?" asked Mary Pavlovna, glancing anxiously atthe altered, haggard expression of Kryltzoff's face.

　　"Neveroff a dreamer?" Kryltzoff suddenly began, panting forbreath as if he had been shouting or singing for a long time."Neveroff was a man 'such as the earth bears few of,' as ourdoorkeeper used to express it. Yes, he had a nature like crystal,you could see him right through; he could not lie, he could notdissemble; not simply thin skinned, but with all his nerves laidbare, as if he were flayed. Yes, his was a complicated, richnature, not such a-- But where is the use of talking?" he added,with a vicious frown. "Shall we first educate the people and thenchange the forms of life, or first change the forms and thenstruggle, using peaceful propaganda or terrorism? So we go ondisputing while they kill; they do not dispute--they know theirbusiness; they don't care whether dozens, hundreds of menperish--and what men! No; that the best should perish is justwhat they want. Yes, Herzen said that when the Decembrists werewithdrawn from circulation the average level of our society sank.I should think so, indeed. Then Herzen himself and his fellowswere withdrawn; now is the turn of the Neveroffs."

　　"They can't all be got rid off," said Nabatoff, in his cheerfultones." There will always be left enough to continue the breed.No, there won't, if we show any pity to THEM there," Nabatoffsaid, raising his voice; and not letting himself be interrupted,"Give me a cigarette."

　　"Oh, Anatole, it is not good for you," said Mary Pavlovna."Please do not smoke."

　　"Oh, leave me alone," he said angrily, and lit a cigarette, butat once began to cough and to retch, as if he were going to besick. Having cleared his throat though, he went on:

　　"What we have been doing is not the thing at all. Not to argue,but for all to unite--to destroy them--that's it."

　　"But they are also human beings," said Nekhludoff.

　　"No, they are not human, they who can do what they are doing--No-- There, now, I heard that some kind of bombs and balloonshave been invented. Well, one ought to go up in such a balloonand sprinkle bombs down on them as if they were bugs, until theyare all exterminated-- Yes. Because--" he was going to continue,but, flushing all over, he began coughing worse than before, anda stream of blood rushed from his mouth.

　　Nabatoff ran to get ice. Mary Pavlovna brought valerian drops andoffered them to him, but he, breathing quickly and heavily,pushed her away with his thin, white hand, and kept his eyesclosed. When the ice and cold water had eased Kryltzoff a little,and he had been put to bed, Nekhludoff, having said good-night toeverybody, went out with the sergeant, who had been waiting forhim some time.

　　The criminals were now quiet, and most of them were asleep.Though the people were lying on and under the bed shelves and inthe space between, they could not all be placed inside the rooms,and some of them lay in the passage with their sacks under theirheads and covered with their cloaks. The moans and sleepy voicescame through the open doors and sounded through the passage.Everywhere lay compact heaps of human beings covered with prisoncloaks. Only a few men who were sitting in the bachelors' room bythe light of a candle end, which they put out when they noticedthe sergeant, were awake, and an old man who sat naked under thelamp in the passage picking the vermin off his shirt. The foulair in the political prisoners' rooms seemed pure compared to thestinking closeness here. The smoking lamp shone dimly as througha mist, and it was difficult to breathe. Stepping along thepassage, one had to look carefully for an empty space, and havingput down one foot had to find place for the other. Three persons,who had evidently found no room even in the passage, lay in theanteroom, close to the stinking and leaking tub. One of these wasan old idiot, whom Nekhludoff had often seen marching with thegang; another was a boy about twelve; he lay between the twoother convicts, with his head on the leg of one of them.

　　When he had passed out of the gate Nekhludoff took a deep breathand long continued to breathe in deep draughts of frosty air.

　　CHAPTER XIX.

　　WHY IS IT DONE?

　　It had cleared up and was starlight. Except in a few places themud was frozen hard when Nekhludoff returned to his inn andknocked at one of its dark windows. The broad-shouldered labourercame barefooted to open the door for him and let him in. Througha door on the right, leading to the back premises, came the loudsnoring of the carters, who slept there, and the sound of manyhorses chewing oats came from the yard. The front room, where ared lamp was burning in front of the icons, smelt of wormwood andperspiration, and some one with mighty lungs was snoring behind apartition. Nekhludoff undressed, put his leather travellingpillow on the oilcloth sofa, spread out his rug and lay down,thinking over all he had seen and heard that day; the boysleeping on the liquid that oozed from the stinking tub, with hishead on the convict's leg, seemed more dreadful than all else.

　　Unexpected and important as his conversation with Simonson andKatusha that evening had been, he did not dwell on it; hissituation in relation to that subject was so complicated andindefinite that he drove the thought from his mind. But thepicture of those unfortunate beings, inhaling the noisome air,and lying in the liquid oozing out of the stinking tub,especially that of the boy, with his innocent face asleep on theleg of a criminal, came all the more vividly to his mind, and hecould not get it out of his head.

　　To know that somewhere far away there are men who torture othermen by inflicting all sorts of humiliations and inhumandegradation and sufferings on them, or for three monthsincessantly to look on while men were inflicting thesehumiliations and sufferings on other men is a very differentthing. And Nekhludoff felt it. More than once during these threemonths he asked himself, "Am I mad because I see what others donot, or are they mad that do these things that I see?"

　　Yet they (and there were many of them) did what seemed soastonishing and terrible to him with such quiet assurance thatwhat they were doing was necessary and was important and usefulwork that it was hard to believe they were mad; nor could he,conscious of the clearness of his thoughts, believe he was mad;and all this kept him continually in a state of perplexity.

　　This is how the things he saw during these three months impressedNekhludoff: From among the people who were free, those werechosen, by means of trials and the administration, who were themost nervous, the most hot tempered, the most excitable, the mostgifted, and the strongest, but the least careful and cunning.These people, not a wit more dangerous than many of those whoremained free, were first locked in prisons, transported toSiberia, where they were provided for and kept months and yearsin perfect idleness, and away from nature, their families, anduseful work--that is, away from the conditions necessary for anatural and moral life. This firstly. Secondly, these people weresubjected to all sorts of unnecessary indignity in thesedifferent Places--chains, shaved heads, shameful clothing--thatis, they were deprived of the chief motives that induce the weakto live good lives, the regard for public opinion, the sense ofshame and the consciousness of human dignity. Thirdly, they werecontinually exposed to dangers, such as the epidemics so frequentin places of confinement, exhaustion, flogging, not to mentionaccidents, such as sunstrokes, drowning or conflagrations, whenthe instinct of self-preservation makes even the kindest, mostmoral men commit cruel actions, and excuse such actions whencommitted by others.

　　Fourthly, these people were forced to associate with others whowere particularly depraved by life, and especially by these veryinstitutions--rakes, murderers and villains--who act on those whoare not yet corrupted by the measures inflicted on them as leavenacts on dough.

　　And, fifthly, the fact that all sorts of violence, cruelty,inhumanity, are not only tolerated, but even permitted by thegovernment, when it suits its purposes, was impressed on themmost forcibly by the inhuman treatment they were subjected to; bythe sufferings inflicted on children, women and old men; byfloggings with rods and whips; by rewards offered for bringing afugitive back, dead or alive; by the separation of husbands andwives, and the uniting them with the wives and husbands of othersfor sexual intercourse; by shooting or hanging them. To those whowere deprived of their freedom, who were in want and misery, actsof violence were evidently still more permissible. All theseinstitutions seemed purposely invented for the production ofdepravity and vice, condensed to such a degree that no otherconditions could produce it, and for the spreading of thiscondensed depravity and vice broadcast among the whole population

　　"Just as if a problem had been set to find the best, the surestmeans of depraving the greatest number of persons," thoughtNekhludoff, while investigating the deeds that were being done inthe prisons and halting stations. Every year hundreds ofthousands were brought to the highest pitch of depravity, andwhen completely depraved they were set free to carry thedepravity they had caught in prison among the people. In theprisons of Tamen, Ekaterinburg, Tomsk and at the halting stationsNekhludoff saw how successfully the object society seemed to haveset itself was attained.

　　Ordinary, simple men with a conception of the demands of thesocial and Christian Russian peasant morality lost thisconception, and found a new one, founded chiefly on the idea thatany outrage or violence was justifiable if it seemed profitable.After living in a prison those people became conscious with thewhole of their being that, judging by what was happening tothemselves, all the moral laws, the respect and the sympathy forothers which church and the moral teachers preach, was really setaside, and that, therefore, they, too, need not keep the laws.Nekhludoff noticed the effects of prison life on all the convictshe knew--on Fedoroff, on Makar, and even on Taras, who, after twomonths among the convicts, struck Nekhludoff by the want ofmorality in his arguments. Nekhludoff found out during hisjourney how tramps, escaping into the marshes, persuade a comradeto escape with them, and then kill him and feed on his flesh. (Hesaw a living man who was accused of this and acknowledged thefact.) And the most terrible part was that this was not asolitary, but a recurring case.

　　Only by a special cultivation of vice, such as was perpetrated inthese establishments, could a Russian be brought to the state ofthis tramp, who excelled Nietzsche's newest teaching, and heldthat everything was possible and nothing forbidden, and whospread this teaching first among the convicts and then among thepeople in general.

　　The only explanation of all that was being done was the wish toput a stop to crime by fear, by correction, by lawful vengeanceas it was written in the books. But in reality nothing in theleast resembling any of these results came to pass. Instead ofvice being put a stop to, it only spread further; instead ofbeing frightened, the criminals were encouraged (many a trampreturned to prison of his own free will). Instead of beingcorrected, every kind of vice was systematically instilled, whilethe desire for vengeance did not weaken by the measures of thegovernment, but was bred in the people who had none of it.

　　"Then why is it done?" Nekhludoff asked himself, but could findno answer. And what seemed most surprising was that all this wasnot being done accidentally, not by mistake, not once, but thatit had continued for centuries, with this difference only, thatat first the people's nostrils used to be torn and their ears cutoff; then they were branded, and now they were manacled andtransported by steam instead of on the old carts. The argumentsbrought forward by those in government service, who said that thethings which aroused his indignation were simply due to theimperfect arrangements of the places of confinement, and thatthey could all be put to rights if prisons of a modern type werebuilt, did not satisfy Nekhludoff, because he knew that whatrevolted him was not the consequence of a better or worsearrangement of the prisons. He had read of model prisons withelectric bells, of executions by electricity, recommended byTard; but this refined kind of violence revolted him even more.

　　But what revolted Nekhludoff most was that there were men in thelaw courts and in the ministry who received large salaries, takenfrom the people, for referring to books written by men likethemselves and with like motives, and sorting actions thatviolated laws made by themselves according to different statutes;and, in obedience to these statutes, sending those guilty of suchactions to places where they were completely at the mercy ofcruel, hardened inspectors, jailers, convoy soldiers, wheremillions of them perished body and soul.

　　Now that he had a closer knowledge of prisons, Nekhludoff foundout that all those vices which developed among theprisoners--drunkenness, gambling, cruelty, and all these terriblecrimes, even cannibalism--were not casual, or due to degenerationor to the existence of monstrosities of the criminal type, asscience, going hand in hand with the government, explained it,but an unavoidable consequence of the incomprehensible delusionthat men may punish one another. Nekhludoff saw that cannibalismdid not commence in the marshes, but in the ministry. He saw thathis brother-in-law, for example, and, in fact, all the lawyersand officials, from the usher to the minister, do not care in theleast for justice or the good of the people about whom theyspoke, but only for the roubles they were paid for doing thethings that were the source whence all this degradation andsuffering flowed. This was quite evident.

　　"Can it be, then, that all this is done simply throughmisapprehension? Could it not be managed that all these officialsshould have their salaries secured to them, and a premium paidthem, besides, so that they should leave off, doing all that theywere doing now?" Nekhludoff thought, and in spite of the fleas,that seemed to spring up round him like water from a fountainwhenever he moved, he fell fast asleep.

　　CHAPTER XX.

　　THE JOURNEY RESUMED.

　　The carters had left the inn long before Nekhludoff awoke. Thelandlady had had her tea, and came in wiping her fat, perspiringneck with her handkerchief, and said that a soldier had brought anote from the halting station. The note was from Mary Pavlovna.She wrote that Kryltzoff's attack was more serious than they hadimagined. "We wished him to be left behind and to remain withhim, but this has not been allowed, so that we shall take him on;but we fear the worst. Please arrange so that if he should heleft in the next town, one of us might remain with him. If inorder to get the permission to stay I should be obliged to getmarried to him, I am of course ready to do so."

　　Nekhludoff sent the young labourer to the post station to orderhorses and began packing up hurriedly. Before he had drunk hissecond tumbler of tea the three-horsed postcart drove up to theporch with ringing bells, the wheels rattling on the frozen mudas on stones. Nekhludoff paid the fat-necked landlady, hurriedout and got into the cart, and gave orders to the driver to go onas fast as possible, so as to overtake the gang. Just past thegates of the commune pasture ground they did overtake the carts,loaded with sacks and the sick prisoners, as they rattled overthe frozen mud, that was just beginning to be rolled smooth bythe wheels (the officer was not there, he had gone in advance).The soldiers, who had evidently been drinking, followed by theside of the road, chatting merrily. There were a great manycarts. In each of the first carts sat six invalid criminalconvicts, close packed. On each of the last two were threepolitical prisoners. Novodvoroff, Grabetz and Kondratieff sat onone, Rintzeva, Nabatoff and the woman to whom Mary Pavlovna hadgiven up her own place on the other, and on one of the carts layKryltzoff on a heap of hay, with a pillow under his head, andMary Pavlovna sat by him on the edge of the cart. Nekhludoffordered his driver to stop, got out and went up to Kryltzoff. Oneof the tipsy soldiers waved his hand towards Nekhludoff, but hepaid no attention and started walking by Kryltzoff's side,holding on to the side of the cart with his hand. Dressed in asheepskin coat, with a fur cap on his head and his mouth bound upwith a handkerchief, he seemed paler and thinner than ever. Hisbeautiful eyes looked very large and brilliant. Shaken from sideto side by the jottings of the cart, he lay with his eyes fixedon Nekhludoff; but when asked about his health, he only closedhis eyes and angrily shook his head. All his energy seemed to beneeded in order to bear the jolting of the cart. Mary Pavlovnawas on the other side. She exchanged a significant glance withNekhludoff, which expressed all her anxiety about Kryltzoff'sstate, and then began to talk at once in a cheerful manner.

　　"It seems the officer is ashamed of himself," she shouted, so asto be heard above the rattle of the wheels. "Bousovkin's manacleshave been removed, and he is carrying his little girl himself.Katusha and Simonson are with him, and Vera, too. She has takenmy place."

　　Kryltzoff said something that could not be heard because of thenoise, and frowning in the effort to repress his cough shook hishead. Then Nekhludoff stooped towards him, so as to hear, andKryltzoff, freeing his mouth of the handkerchief, whispered:

　　"Much better now. Only not to catch cold."

　　Nekhludoff nodded in acquiescence, and again exchanged a glancewith Mary Pavlovna.

　　"How about the problem of the three bodies?" whispered Kryltzoff,smiling with great difficulty. "The solution is difficult."

　　Nekhludoff did not understand, but Mary Pavlovna explained thathe meant the well-known mathematical problem which defined theposition of the sun, moon and earth, which Kryltzoff compared tothe relations between Nekhludoff, Katusha and Simonson.Kryltzoff nodded, to show that Mary Pavlovna had explained hisjoke correctly.

　　"The decision does not lie with me," Nekhludoff said.

　　"Did you get my note? Will you do it?" Mary Pavlovna asked.

　　"Certainly," answered Nekhludoff ; and noticing a look ofdispleasure on Kryltzoff's face, he returned to his conveyance,and holding with both hands to the sides of the cart, got in,which jolted with him over the ruts of the rough road. He passedthe gang, which, with its grey cloaks and sheepskin coats, chainsand manacles, stretched over three-quarters of a mile of theroad. On the opposite side of the road Nekhludoff noticedKatusha's blue shawl, Vera Doukhova's black coat, and Simonson'scrochet cap, white worsted stockings, with bands, like those ofsandals, tied round him. Simonson was walking with the woman andcarrying on a heated discussion.

　　When they saw Nekhludoff they bowed to him, and Simonson raisedhis hat in a solemn manner. Nekhludoff, having nothing to say,did not stop, and was soon ahead of the carts. Having got againon to a smoother part of the road, they drove still more quickly,but they had continually to turn aside to let pass long rows ofcarts that were moving along the road in both directions.

　　The road, which was cut up by deep ruts, lay through a thick pineforest, mingled with birch trees and larches, bright with yellowleaves they had not yet shed. By the time Nekhludoff had passedabout half the gang he reached the end of the forest. Fields nowlay stretched along both sides of the road, and the crosses andcupolas of a monastery appeared in the distance. The clouds haddispersed, and it had cleared up completely; the leaves, thefrozen puddles and the gilt crosses and cupolas of the monasteryglittered brightly in the sun that had risen above the forest. Alittle to the right mountains began to gleam white in theblue-grey distance, and the trap entered a large village. Thevillage street was full of people, both Russians and othernationalities, wearing peculiar caps and cloaks. Tipsy men andwomen crowded and chattered round booths, traktirs, public housesand carts. The vicinity of a town was noticeable. Giving a pulland a lash of the whip to the horse on his right, the driver satdown sideways on the right edge of the scat, so that the reinshung over that side, and with evident desire of showing off, hedrove quickly down to the river, which had to be crossed by aferry. The raft was coming towards them, and had reached themiddle of the river. About twenty carts were waiting to cross.Nekhludoff had not long to wait. The raft, which had been pulledfar up the stream, quickly approached the landing, carried by theswift waters. The tall, silent, broad-shouldered, muscularferryman, dressed in sheepskins, threw the ropes and moored theraft with practised hand, landed the carts that were on it, andput those that were waiting on the bank on board. The whole raftwas filled with vehicles and horses shuffling at the sight of thewater. The broad, swift river splashed against the sides of theferryboats, tightening their moorings.

　　When the raft was full, and Nekhludoff's cart, with the horsestaken out of it, stood closely surrounded by other carts on theside of the raft, the ferryman barred the entrance, and, payingno heed to the prayers of those who had not found room in theraft, unfastened the ropes and set off.

　　All was quiet on the raft; one could hear nothing but the trampof the ferryman's boots and the horses changing from foot tofoot.

　　CHAPTER XXI.

　　"JUST A WORTHLESS TRAMP."

　　Nekhludoff stood on the edge of the raft looking at the broadriver. Two pictures kept rising up in his mind. One, that ofKryltzoff, unprepared for death and dying, made a heavy,sorrowful impression on him. The other, that of Katusha, full ofenergy, having gained the love of such a man as Simonson, andfound a true and solid path towards righteousness, should havebeen pleasant, yet it also created a heavy impression onNekhludoff's mind, and he could not conquer this impression.

　　The vibrating sounds of a big brass bell reached them from thetown. Nekhludoff's driver, who stood by his side, and the othermen on the raft raised their caps and crossed themselves, allexcept a short, dishevelled old man, who stood close to therailway and whom Nekhludoff had not noticed before. He did notcross himself, but raised his head and looked at Nekhludoff. Thisold man wore a patched coat, cloth trousers and worn and patchedshoes. He had a small wallet on his back, and a high fur cap withthe fur much rubbed on his head.

　　"Why don't you pray, old chap?" asked Nekhludoff's driver as hereplaced and straightened his cap. "Are you unbaptized?"

　　"Who's one to pray to?" asked the old man quickly, in adeterminately aggressive tone.

　　"To whom? To God, of course," said the driver sarcastically.

　　"And you just show me where he is, that god." There was somethingso serious and firm in the expression of the old man, that thedriver felt that he had to do with a strong-minded man, and was abit abashed. And trying not to show this, not to be silenced, andnot to be put to shame before the crowd that was observing them,he answered quickly.

　　"Where? In heaven, of course."

　　"And have you been up there?"

　　"Whether I've been or not, every one knows that you must pray toGod."

　　""No one has ever seen God at any time. The only begotten Son whois in the bosom of the Father he hath declared him," said the oldman in the same rapid manner, and with a severe frown on hisbrow.

　　"It's clear you are not a Christian, but a hole worshipper. Youpray to a hole," said the driver, shoving the handle of his whipinto his girdle, pulling straight the harness on one of thehorses.

　　Some one laughed.

　　"What is your faith, Dad?" asked a middle-aged man, who stood byhis cart on the same side of the raft.

　　"I have no kind of faith, because I believe no one--no one butmyself," said the old man as quickly and decidedly as before.

　　"How can you believe yourself?" Nekhludoff asked, entering into aconversation with him. "You might make a mistake."

　　"Never in your life," the old man said decidedly, with a toss ofhis head.

　　"Then why are there different faiths?" Nekhludoff asked.

　　"It's just because men believe others and do not believethemselves that there are different faiths. I also believedothers, and lost myself as in a swamp,--lost myself so that I hadno hope of finding my way out. Old believers and new believersand Judaisers and Khlysty and Popovitzy, and Bespopovitzy andAvstriaks and Molokans and Skoptzy --every faith praises itselfonly, and so they all creep about like blind puppies. There aremany faiths, but the spirit is one--in me and in you and in him.So that if every one believes himself all will he united. Everyone he himself, and all will be as one."

　　The old man spoke loudly and often looked round, evidentlywishing that as many as possible should hear him.

　　"And have you long held this faith?"

　　"I? A long time. This is the twenty-third year that theypersecute me."

　　"Persecute you? How?

　　"As they persecuted Christ, so they persecute me. They seize me,and take me before the courts and before the priests, the Scribesand the Pharisees. Once they put me into a madhouse; but they cando nothing because I am free. They say, 'What is your name?'thinking I shall name myself. But I do not give myself a name. Ihave given up everything: I have no name, no place, no country,nor anything. I am just myself. 'What is your name?' 'Man.' 'Howold are you?' I say, 'I do not count my years and cannot countthem, because I always was, I always shall be.' ' Who are yourparents?' 'I have no parents except God and Mother Earth. God ismy father.' 'And the Tsar? Do you recognise the Tsar?' they say.I say, 'Why not? He is his own Tsar, and I am my own Tsar.''Where's the good of talking to him,' they say, and I say, 'I donot ask you to talk to me.' And so they begin tormenting me."

　　"And where are you going now?" asked Nekhludoff.

　　"Where God will lead me. I work when I can find work, and when Ican't I beg." The old man noticed that the raft was approachingthe bank and stopped, looking round at the bystanders with a lookof triumph.

　　Nekhludoff got out his purse and offered some money to the oldman, but he refused, saying:

　　"I do not accept this sort of thing--bread I do accept."

　　"Well, then, excuse me."

　　"There is nothing to excuse, you have not offended me. And it isnot possible to offend me." And the old man put the wallet he hadtaken off again on his back. Meanwhile, the post-cart had beenlanded and the horses harnessed.

　　"I wonder you should care to talk to him, sir," said the driver,when Nekhludoff, having tipped the bowing ferryman, got into thecart again. "He is just a worthless tramp."

　　CHAPTER XXII.

　　NEKHLUDOFF SEES THE GENERAL.

　　When they got to the top of the hill bank the driver turned toNekhludoff.

　　"Which hotel am I to drive to?"

　　"Which is the best?"

　　"Nothing could be better than the Siberian, but Dukeoff's is alsogood."

　　"Drive to whichever you like."

　　The driver again seated himself sideways and drove faster. Thetown was like all such towns. The same kind of houses with atticwindows and green roofs, the same kind of cathedral, the samekind of shops and stores in the principal street, and even thesame kind of policemen. Only the houses were almost all of themwooden, and the streets were not paved. In one of the chiefstreets the driver stopped at the door of an hotel, but there wasno room to be had, so he drove to another. And here Nekhludoff,after two months, found himself once again in surroundings suchas he had been accustomed to as far as comfort and cleanlinesswent. Though the room he was shown to was simple enough, yetNekhludoff felt greatly relieved to be there after two months ofpost-carts, country inns and halting stations. His first businesswas to clean himself of the lice which he had never been able toget thoroughly rid of after visiting a halting station. When hehad unpacked he went to the Russian bath, after which he madehimself fit to be seen in a town, put on a starched shirt,trousers that had got rather creased along the seams, afrock-coat and an overcoat, and drove to the Governor of thedistrict. The hotel-keeper called an isvostchik, whose well-fedKirghiz horse and vibrating trap soon brought Nekhludoff to thelarge porch of a big building, in front of which stood sentinelsand a policeman. The house had a garden in front, and at theback, among the naked branches of aspen and birch trees, theregrew thick and dark green pines and firs. The General was notwell, and did not receive; but Nekhludoff asked the footman tohand in his card all the same, and the footman came back with afavourable reply.

　　"You are asked to come in."

　　The hall, the footman, the orderly, the staircase, thedancing-room, with its well-polished floor, were very much thesame as in Petersburg, only more imposing and rather dirtier.Nekhludoff was shown into the cabinet.

　　The General, a bloated, potato-nosed man, with a sanguinedisposition, large bumps on his forehead, bald head, and puffsunder his eyes, sat wrapped in a Tartar silk dressing-gownsmoking a cigarette and sipping his tea out of a tumbler in asilver holder.

　　"How do you do, sir? Excuse my dressing-gown; it is better sothan if I had not received you at all," he said, pulling up hisdressing-gown over his fat neck with its deep folds at the nape."I am not quite well, and do not go out. What has brought you toour remote region?"

　　"I am accompanying a gang of prisoners, among whom there is aperson closely connected with me, said Nekhludoff, and now I havecome to see your Excellency partly in behalf of this person, andpartly about another business." The General took a whiff and asip of tea, put his cigarette into a malachite ashpan, with hisnarrow eyes fixed on Nekhludoff, listening seriously. He onlyinterrupted him once to offer him a cigarette.

　　The General belonged to the learned type of military men whobelieved that liberal and humane views can be reconciled withtheir profession. But being by nature a kind and intelligent man,he soon felt the impossibility of such a reconciliation; so asnot to feel the inner discord in which he was living, he gavehimself up more and more to the habit of drinking, which is sowidely spread among military men, and was now suffering from whatdoctors term alcoholism. He was imbued with alcohol, and if hedrank any kind of liquor it made him tipsy. Yet strong drink wasan absolute necessity to him, he could not live without it, so hewas quite drunk every evening; but had grown so used to thisstate that he did not reel nor talk any special nonsense. And ifhe did talk nonsense, it was accepted as words of wisdom becauseof the important and high position which he occupied. Only inthe morning, just at the time Nekhludoff came to see him, he waslike a reasonable being, could understand what was said to him,and fulfil more or less aptly a proverb he was fond of repeating:"He's tipsy, but he's wise, so he's pleasant in two ways."

　　The higher authorities knew he was a drunkard, but he was moreeducated than the rest, though his education had stopped at thespot where drunkenness had got hold of him. He was bold, adroit,of imposing appearance, and showed tact even when tipsy;therefore, he was appointed, and was allowed to retain so publicand responsible an office.

　　Nekhludoff told him that the person he was interested in was awoman, that she was sentenced, though innocent, and that apetition had been sent to the Emperor in her behalf.

　　"Yes, well?" said the General.

　　"I was promised in Petersburg that the news concerning her fateshould be sent to me not later than this month and to thisplace-"

　　The General stretched his hand with its stumpy fingers towardsthe table, and rang a bell, still looking at Nekhludoff andpuffing at his cigarette.

　　"So I would like to ask you that this woman should he allowed toremain here until the answer to her petition comes."

　　The footman, an orderly in uniform, came in.

　　"Ask if Anna Vasilievna is up," said the General to the orderly,"and bring some more tea." Then, turning to Nekhludoff, "Yes, andwhat else?"

　　"My other request concerns a political prisoner who is with thesame gang."

　　"Dear me," said the General, with a significant shake of thehead.

　　"He is seriously ill--dying, and he will probably he left here inthe hospital, so one of the women prisoners would like to staybehind with him."

　　"She is no relation of his?"

　　"No, but she is willing to marry him if that will enable her toremain with him."

　　The General looked fixedly with twinkling eyes at hisinterlocutor, and, evidently with a wish to discomfit him,listened, smoking in silence.

　　When Nekhludoff had finished, the General took a book off thetable, and, wetting his finger, quickly turned over the pages andfound the statute relating to marriage.

　　"What is she sentenced to?" he asked, looking up from the book.

　　"She? To hard labour."

　　"Well, then, the position of one sentenced to that cannot bebettered by marriage."

　　"Yes, but-"

　　"Excuse me. Even if a free man should marry her, she would haveto serve her term. The question in such cases is, whose is theheavier punishment, hers or his?"

　　"They are both sentenced to hard labour."

　　"Very well; so they are quits," said the General, with a laugh.She's got what he has, only as he is sick he may be left behind,and of course what can be done to lighten his fate shall be done.But as for her, even if she did marry him, she could not remainbehind."

　　"The Generaless is having her coffee," the footman announced.

　　The General nodded and continued:

　　"However, I shall think about it. What are their names? Put themdown here."

　　Nekhludoff wrote down the names.

　　Nekhludoff's request to be allowed to see the dying man theGeneral answered by saying, "Neither can I do that. Of course Ido not suspect you, but you take an interest in him and in theothers, and you have money, and here with us anything can be donewith money. I have been told to put down bribery. But how can Iput down bribery when everybody takes bribes? And the lower theirrank the more ready they are to be bribed. How can one find itout across more than three thousand miles? There any official isa little Tsar, just as I am here," and he laughed. "You have inall likelihood been to see the political prisoners; you gavemoney and got permission to see them," he said, with a smile."Is it not so?

　　"Yes, it is."

　　"I quite understand that you had to do it. You pity a politicalprisoner and wish to see him. And the inspector or the convoysoldier accepts, because he has a salary of twice twenty copecksand a family, and he can't help accepting it. In his place andyours I should have acted in the same way as you and he did. Butin my position I do not permit myself to swerve an inch from theletter of the law, just because I am a man, and might beinfluenced by pity. But I am a member of the executive, and Ihave been placed in a position of trust on certain conditions,and these conditions I must carry out. Well, so this business isfinished. And now let us hear what is going on in themetropolis." And the General began questioning with the evidentdesire to hear the news and to show how very human he was.

　　CHAPTER XXIII.

　　THE SENTENCE COMMUTED.

　　"By-the-way, where are you staying?" asked the General as he wastaking leave of Nekhludoff. "At Duke's? Well, it's horrid enoughthere. Come and dine with us at five o'clock. You speak English?

　　"Yes, I do."

　　"That's good. You see, an English traveller has just arrivedhere. He is studying the question of transportation and examiningthe prisons of Siberia. Well, he is dining with us to-night, andyou come and meet him. We dine at five, and my wife expectspunctuality. Then I shall also give you an answer what to doabout that woman, and perhaps it may be possible to leave someone behind with the sick prisoner."

　　Having made his bow to the General, Nekhludoff drove to thepost-office, feeling himself in an extremely animated andenergetic frame of mind.

　　The post-office was a low-vaulted room. Several officials satbehind a counter serving the people, of whom there was quite acrowd. One official sat with his head bent to one side and keptstamping the envelopes, which he slipped dexterously under thestamp. Nekhludoff had not long to wait. As soon as he had givenhis name, everything that had come for him by post was at oncehanded to him. There was a good deal: letters, and money, andbooks, and the last number of Fatherland Notes. Nekhludoff tookall these things to a wooden bench, on which a soldier with abook in his hand sat waiting for something, took the seat by hisside, and began sorting the letters. Among them was oneregistered letter in a fine envelope, with a distinctly stampedbright red seal. He broke the seal, and seeing a letter fromSelenin and some official paper inside the envelope, he felt theblood rush to his face, and his heart stood still. It was theanswer to Katusha's petition. What would that answer be?Nekhludoff glanced hurriedly through the letter, written in anillegibly small, hard, and cramped hand, and breathed a sigh ofrelief. The answer was a favourable one.

　　"Dear friend," wrote Selenin, "our last talk has made a profoundimpression on me. You were right concerning Maslova. I lookedcarefully through the case, and see that shocking injustice hasbeen done her. It could he remedied only by the Committee ofPetitions before which you laid it. I managed to assist at theexamination of the case, and I enclose herewith the copy of themitigation of the sentence. Your aunt, the Countess KaterinaIvanovna, gave me the address which I am sending this to. Theoriginal document has been sent to the place where she wasimprisoned before her trial, and will from there he probably sentat once to the principal Government office in Siberia. I hastento communicate this glad news to you and warmly press your hand.

　　"Yours,

　　"SELENIN."

　　The document ran thus: "His Majesty's office for the reception ofpetitions, addressed to his Imperial name"--here followed thedate----"by order of the chief of his Majesty's office for thereception of petitions addressed to his Imperial name. Themeschanka Katerina Maslova is hereby informed that his ImperialMajesty, with reference to her most loyal petition, condescendingto her request, deigns to order that her sentence to hard labourshould be commuted to one of exile to the less distant districtsof Siberia-"

　　This was joyful and important news; all that Nekhludoff couldhave hoped for Katusha, and for himself also, had happened. Itwas true that the new position she was in brought newcomplications with it. While she was a convict, marriage with hercould only be fictitious, and would have had no meaning exceptthat he would have been in a position to alleviate her condition.And now there was nothing to prevent their living together, andNekhludoff had not prepared himself for that. And, besides, whatof her relations to Simonson? What was the meaning of her wordsyesterday? If she consented to a union with Simonson, would it bewell? He could not unravel all these questions, and gave upthinking about it. "It will all clear itself up later on," hethought; "I must not think about it now, but convey the glad newsto her as soon as possible, and set her free. He thought that thecopy of the document he had received would suffice, so when heleft the post-office he told the isvostchik to drive him to theprison.

　　Though he had received no order from the governor to visit theprison that morning, he knew by experience that it was easy toget from the subordinates what the higher officials would notgrant, so now he meant to try and get into the prison to bringKatusha the joyful news, and perhaps to get her set free, and atthe same time to inquire about Kryltzoff's state of health, andtell him and Mary Pavlovna what the general had said. The prisoninspector was a tall, imposing-looking man, with moustaches andwhiskers that twisted towards the corners of his mouth. Hereceived Nekhludoff very gravely, and told him plainly that hecould not grant an outsider the permission to interview theprisoners without a special order from his chief. To Nekhludoff'sremark that he had been allowed to visit the prisoners even inthe cities he answered:

　　"That may be so, but I do not allow it," and his tone implied,"You city gentlemen may think to surprise and perplex us, but wein Eastern Siberia also know what the law is, and may even teachit you." The copy of a document straight from the Emperor's ownoffice did not have any effect on the prison inspector either. Hedecidedly refused to let Nekhludoff come inside the prison walls.He only smiled contemptuously at Nekhludoff's naive conclusion,that the copy he had received would suffice to set Maslova free,and declared that a direct order from his own superiors would beneeded before any one could be set at liberty. The only things heagreed to do were to communicate to Maslova that a mitigation hadarrived for her, and to promise that he would not detain her anhour after the order from his chief to liberate her would arrive.He would also give no news of Kryltzoff, saying he could not eventell if there was such a prisoner; and so Nekhludoff, havingaccomplished next to nothing, got into his trap and drove back tohis hotel.

　　The strictness of the inspector was chiefly due to the fact thatan epidemic of typhus had broken out in the prison, owing totwice the number of persons that it was intended for beingcrowded in it. The isvostchik who drove Nekhludoff said, "Quite alot of people are dying in the prison every day, some kind ofdisease having sprung up among them, so that as many as twentywere buried in one day."

　　CHAPTER XXIV.

　　THE GENERAL'S HOUSEHOLD.

　　In spite of his ineffectual attempt at the prison, Nekhludoff,still in the same vigorous, energetic frame of mind, went to theGovernor's office to see if the original of the document hadarrived for Maslova. It had not arrived, so Nekhludoff went backto the hotel and wrote without delay to Selenin and the advocateabout it. When he had finished writing he looked at his watch andsaw it was time to go to the General's dinner party.

　　On the way he again began wondering how Katusha would receive thenews of the mitigation of her sentence. Where she would besettled? How he should live with her? What about Simonson? Whatwould his relations to her be? He remembered the change that hadtaken place in her, and this reminded him of her past. "I mustforget it for the present," he thought, and again hastened todrive her out of his mind. "When the time comes I shall see," hesaid to himself, and began to think of what he ought to say tothe General.

　　The dinner at the General's, with the luxury habitual to thelives of the wealthy and those of high rank, to which Nekhludoffhad been accustomed, was extremely enjoyable after he had been solong deprived not only of luxury but even of the most ordinarycomforts. The mistress of the house was a Petersburg grande dameof the old school, a maid of honour at the court of Nicholas I.,who spoke French quite naturally and Russian very unnaturally.She held herself very erect and, moving her hands, she kept herelbows close to her waist. She was quietly and, somewhat sadlyconsiderate for her husband, and extremely kind to all hervisitors, though with a tinge of difference in her behaviouraccording to their position. She received Nekhludoff as if hewere one of them, and her fine, almost imperceptible flatterymade him once again aware of his virtues and gave him a feelingof satisfaction. She made him feel that she knew of that honestthough rather singular step of his which had brought him toSiberia, and held him to be an exceptional man. This refinedflattery and the elegance and luxury of the General's house hadthe effect of making Nekhludoff succumb to the enjoyment of thehandsome surroundings, the delicate dishes and the case andpleasure of intercourse with educated people of his own class, sothat the surroundings in the midst of which he had lived for thelast months seemed a dream from which he had awakened to reality.Besides those of the household, the General's daughter and herhusband and an aide-de-camp, there were an Englishman, a merchantinterested in gold mines, and the governor of a distant Siberiantown. All these people seemed pleasant to Nekhludoff. TheEnglishman, a healthy man with a rosy complexion, who spoke verybad French, but whose command of his own language was very goodand oratorically impressive, who had seen a great deal, was veryinteresting to listen to when he spoke about America, India,Japan and Siberia.

　　The young merchant interested in the gold mines, the son of apeasant, whose evening dress was made in London, who had diamondstuds to his shirt, possessed a fine library, contributed freelyto philanthropic work, and held liberal European views, seemedpleasant to Nekhludoff as a sample of a quite new and good typeof civilised European culture, grafted on a healthy, uncultivatedpeasant stem.

　　The governor of the distant Siberian town was that same man whohad been so much talked about in Petersburg at the timeNekhludoff was there. He was plump, with thin, curly hair, softblue eyes, carefully-tended white hands, with rings on thefingers, a pleasant smile, and very big in the lower part of hisbody. The master of the house valued this governor because of allthe officials he was the only one who would not be bribed. Themistress of the house, who was very fond of music and a very goodpianist herself, valued him because he was a good musician andplayed duets with her.

　　Nekhludoff was in such good humour that even this man was notunpleasant to him, in spite of what he knew of his vices. Thebright, energetic aide-de-camp, with his bluey grey chin, who wascontinually offering his services, pleased Nekhludoff by his goodnature. But it was the charming young couple, the General'sdaughter and her husband, who pleased Nekhludoff best. Thedaughter was a plain-looking, simple-minded young woman, whollyabsorbed in her two children. Her husband, whom she had fallen inlove with and married after a long struggle with her parents, wasa Liberal, who had taken honours at the Moscow University, amodest and intellectual young man in Government service, who madeup statistics and studied chiefly the foreign tribes, which heliked and tried to save from dying out.

　　All of them were not only kind and attentive to Nekhludoff, butevidently pleased to see him, as a new and interestingacquaintance. The General, who came in to dinner in uniform andwith a white cross round his neck, greeted Nekhludoff as afriend, and asked the visitors to the side table to take a glassof vodka and something to whet their appetites. The General askedNekhludoff what he had been doing since he left that morning, andNekhludoff told him he had been to the post-office and receivedthe news of the mitigation of that person's sentence that he hadspoken of in the morning, and again asked for a permission tovisit the prison.

　　The General, apparently displeased that business should bementioned at dinner, frowned and said nothing.

　　"Have a glass of vodka" he said, addressing the Englishman, whohad just come up to the table. The Englishman drank a glass, andsaid he had been to see the cathedral and the factory, but wouldlike to visit the great transportation prison.

　　"Oh, that will just fit in," said the General to Nekhludoff."You will he able to go together. Give them a pass," he added,turning to his aide-de-camp.

　　"When would you like to go?" Nekhludoff asked.

　　"I prefer visiting the prisons in the evening," the Englishmananswered. "All are indoors and there is no preparation; you findthem all as they are."

　　"Ah, he would like to see it in all its glory! Let him do so. Ihave written about it and no attention has been paid to it. Lethim find out from foreign publications," the General said, andwent up to the dinner table, where the mistress of the house wasshowing the visitors their places. Nekhludoff sat between hishostess and the Englishman. In front of him sat the General'sdaughter and the ex-director of the Government department inPetersburg. The conversation at dinner was carried on by fits andstarts, now it was India that the Englishman talked about, nowthe Tonkin expedition that the General strongly disapproved of,now the universal bribery and corruption in Siberia. All thesetopics did not interest Nekhludoff much.

　　But after dinner, over their coffee, Nekhludoff and theEnglishman began a very interesting conversation about Gladstone,and Nekhludoff thought he had said many clever things which werenoticed by his interlocutor. And Nekhludoff felt it more and morepleasant to be sipping his coffee seated in an easy-chair amongamiable, well-bred people. And when at the Englishman's requestthe hostess went up to the piano with the ex-director of theGovernment department, and they began to play in well-practisedstyle Beethoven's fifth symphony, Nekhludoff fell into a mentalstate of perfect self-satisfaction to which he had long been astranger, as though he had only just found out what a good fellowhe was.

　　The grand piano was a splendid instrument, the symphony was wellperformed. At least, so it seemed to Nekhludoff, who knew andliked that symphony. Listening to the beautiful andante, he felta tickling in his nose, he was so touched by his many virtues.

　　Nekhludoff thanked his hostess for the enjoyment that he had beendeprived of for so long, and was about to say goodbye and go whenthe daughter of the house came up to him with a determined lookand said, with a blush, "You asked about my children. Would youlike to see them?"

　　"She thinks that everybody wants to see her children," said hermother, smiling at her daughter's winning tactlessness. "ThePrince is not at all interested."

　　"On the contrary, I am very much interested," said Nekhludoff,touched by this overflowing, happy mother-love. "Please let mesee them."

　　"She's taking the Prince to see her babies," the General shouted,laughing from the card-table, where he sat with his son-in-law,the mine owner and the aide-de-camp. "Go, go, pay your tribute."

　　The young woman, visibly excited by the thought that judgment wasabout to be passed on her children, went quickly towards theinner apartments, followed by Nekhludoff. In the third, a loftyroom, papered with white and lit up by a shaded lamp, stood twosmall cots, and a nurse with a white cape on her shoulders satbetween the cots. She had a kindly, true Siberian face, with itshigh cheek-bones.

　　The nurse rose and bowed. The mother stooped over the first cot,in which a two-year-old little girl lay peacefully sleeping withher little mouth open and her long, curly hair tumbled over thepillow.

　　"This is Katie," said the mother, straightening the white andblue crochet coverlet, from under which a little white footpushed itself languidly out.

　　"Is she not pretty? She's only two years old, you know."

　　"Lovely."

　　"And this is Vasiuk, as 'grandpapa' calls him. Quite a differenttype. A Siberian, is he not?"

　　"A splendid boy," said Nekhludoff, as he looked at the littlefatty lying asleep on his stomach.

　　"Yes," said the mother, with a smile full of meaning.

　　Nekhludoff recalled to his mind chains, shaved heads, fightingdebauchery, the dying Kryltzoff, Katusha and the whole of herpast, and he began to feel envious and to wish for what he sawhere, which now seemed to him pure and refined happiness.

　　After having repeatedly expressed his admiration of the children,thereby at least partially satisfying their mother, who eagerlydrank in this praise, he followed her back to the drawing-room,where the Englishman was waiting for him to go and visit theprison, as they had arranged. Having taken leave of their hosts,the old and the young ones, the Englishman and Nekhludoff wentout into the porch of the General's house.

　　The weather had changed. It was snowing, and the snow felldensely in large flakes, and already covered the road, the roofand the trees in the garden, the steps of the porch, the roof ofthe trap and the back of the horse.

　　The Englishman had a trap of his own, and Nekhludoff, having toldthe coachman to drive to the prison, called his isvostchik andgot in with the heavy sense of having to fulfil an unpleasantduty, and followed the Englishman over the soft snow, throughwhich the wheels turned with difficulty.

　　CHAPTER XXV.

　　MASLOVA'S DECISION.

　　The dismal prison house, with its sentinel and lamp burning underthe gateway, produced an even more dismal impression, with itslong row of lighted windows, than it had done in the morning, inspite of the white covering that now lay over everything--theporch, the roof and the walls.

　　The imposing inspector came up to the gate and read the pass thathad been given to Nekhludoff and the Englishman by the light ofthe lamp, shrugged his fine shoulders in surprise, but, inobedience to the order, asked the visitors to follow him in. Heled them through the courtyard and then in at a door to the rightand up a staircase into the office. He offered them a seat andasked what he could do for them, and when he heard thatNekhludoff would like to see Maslova at once, he sent a jailer tofetch her. Then he prepared himself to answer the questions whichthe Englishman began to put to him, Nekhludoff acting asinterpreter.

　　"How many persons is the prison built to hold?" the Englishmanasked. "How many are confined in it? How many men? How manywomen? Children? How many sentenced to the mines? How manyexiles? How many sick persons?"

　　Nekhludoff translated the Englishman's and the inspector's wordswithout paying any attention to their meaning, and felt anawkwardness he had not in the least expected at the thought ofthe impending interview. When, in the midst of a sentence he wastranslating for the Englishman, he heard the sound of approachingfootsteps, and the office door opened, and, as had happened manytimes before, a jailer came in, followed by Katusha, and he sawher with a kerchief tied round her head, and in a prison jacket aheavy sensation came over him. "I wish to live, I want a family,children, I want a human life." These thoughts flashed throughhis mind as she entered the room with rapid steps and blinkingher eyes.

　　He rose and made a few steps to meet her, and her face appearedhard and unpleasant to him. It was again as it had been at thetime when she reproached him. She flushed and turned pale, herfingers nervously twisting a corner of her jacket. She looked upat him, then cast down her eyes.

　　"You know that a mitigation has come?"

　　"Yes, the jailer told me."

　　"So that as soon as the original document arrives you may comeaway and settle where you like. We shall consider--"

　　She interrupted him hurriedly. "What have I to consider? WhereValdemar Simonson goes, there I shall follow." In spite of theexcitement she was in she raised her eyes to Nekhludoff's andpronounced these words quickly and distinctly, as if she hadprepared what she had to say.

　　"Indeed!"

　　"Well, Dmitri Ivanovitch, you see he wishes me to live withhim--" and she stopped, quite frightened, and corrected herself."He wishes me to be near him. What more can I desire? I must lookupon it as happiness. What else is there for me--"

　　"One of two things," thought he. "Either she loves Simonson anddoes not in the least require the sacrifice I imagined I wasbringing her, or she still loves me and refuses me for my ownsake, and is burning her ships by uniting her fate withSimonson." And Nekhludoff felt ashamed and knew that he wasblushing.

　　"And you yourself, do you love him?" he asked.

　　"Loving or not loving, what does it matter? I have given up allthat. And then Valdemar Simonson is quite an exceptional man."

　　"Yes, of course," Nekhludoff began. "He is a splendid man, and Ithink--"

　　But she again interrupted him, as if afraid that he might say toomuch or that she should not say all. "No, Dmitri Ivanovitch, youmust forgive me if I am not doing what you wish," and she lookedat him with those unfathomable, squinting eyes of hers. "Yes, itevidently must be so. You must live, too."

　　She said just what he had been telling himself a few momentsbefore, but he no longer thought so now and felt verydifferently. He was not only ashamed, but felt sorry to lose allhe was losing with her. "I did not expect this," he said.

　　"Why should you live here and suffer? You have suffered enough."

　　"I have not suffered. It was good for me, and I should like to goon serving you if I could."

　　"We do not want anything," she said, and looked at him.

　　"You have done so much for me as it is. If it had not been foryou--" She wished to say more, but her voice trembled.

　　"You certainly have no reason to thank me," Nekhludoff said.

　　"Where is the use of our reckoning? God will make up ouraccounts," she said, and her black eyes began to glisten with thetears that filled them.

　　"What a good woman you are," he said.

　　"I good?" she said through her tears, and a pathetic smile lit upher face.

　　"Are you ready?" the Englishman asked.

　　"Directly," replied Nekhludoff and asked her about Kryltzoff.

　　She got over her emotion and quietly told him all she knew.Kryltzoff was very weak and had been sent into the infirmary.Mary Pavlovna was very anxious, and had asked to be allowed to goto the infirmary as a nurse, but could not get the permission.

　　"Am I to go?" she asked, noticing that the Englishman waswaiting.

　　"I will not say good-bye; I shall see you again," saidNekhludoff, holding out his hand.

　　"Forgive me," she said so low that he could hardly hear her.Their eyes met, and Nekhludoff knew by the strange look of hersquinting eyes and the pathetic smile with which she said not"Good-bye" but "Forgive me," that of the two reasons that mighthave led to her resolution, the second was the real one. Sheloved him, and thought that by uniting herself to him she wouldbe spoiling his life. By going with Simonson she thought shewould be setting Nekhludoff free, and felt glad that she had donewhat she meant to do, and yet she suffered at parting from him.

　　She pressed his hand, turned quickly and left the room.

　　Nekhludoff was ready to go, but saw that the Englishman wasnoting something down, and did not disturb him, but sat down on awooden seat by the wall, and suddenly a feeling of terribleweariness came over him. It was not a sleepless night that hadtired him, not the journey, not the excitement, but he feltterribly tired of living. He leaned against the back of thebench, shut his eyes and in a moment fell into a deep, heavysleep.

　　"Well, would you like to look round the cells now?" the inspectorasked.

　　Nekhludoff looked up and was surprised to find himself where hewas. The Englishman had finished his notes and expressed a wishto see the cells.

　　Nekhludoff, tired and indifferent, followed him.

　　CHAPTER XXVI.

　　THE ENGLISH VISITOR.

　　When they had passed the anteroom and the sickening, stinkingcorridor, the Englishman and Nekhludoff, accompanied by theinspector, entered the first cell, where those sentenced to hardlabour were confined. The beds took up the middle of the cell andthe prisoners were all in bed. There were about 70 of them. Whenthe visitors entered all the prisoners jumped up and stood besidethe beds, excepting two, a young man who was in a state of highfever, and an old man who did nothing but groan.

　　The Englishman asked if the young man had long been ill. Theinspector said that he was taken ill in the morning, but that theold man had long been suffering with pains in the stomach, butcould not be removed, as the infirmary had been overfilled for along time. The Englishman shook his head disapprovingly, said hewould like to say a few words to these people, asking Nekhludoffto interpret. It turned out that besides studying the places ofexile and the prisons of Siberia, the Englishman had anotherobject in view, that of preaching salvation through faith and bythe redemption.

　　"Tell them," he said, "that Christ died for them. If they believein this they shall be saved." While he spoke, all the prisonersstood silent with their arms at their sides. "This book, tellthem," he continued, "says all about it. Can any of them read?"

　　There were more than 20 who could.

　　The Englishman took several bound Testaments out of a hang-bag,and many strong hands with their hard, black nails stretched outfrom beneath the coarse shirt-sleeves towards him. He gave awaytwo Testaments in this cell.

　　The same thing happened in the second cell. There was the samefoul air, the same icon hanging between the windows, the same tubto the left of the door, and they were all lying side by sideclose to one another, and jumped up in the same manner and stoodstretched full length with their arms by their sides, all butthree, two of whom sat up and one remained lying, and did noteven look at the newcomers; these three were also ill. TheEnglishman made the same speech and again gave away two books.

　　In the third room four were ill. When the Englishman asked whythe sick were not put all together into one cell, the inspectorsaid that they did not wish it themselves, that their diseaseswere not infectious, and that the medical assistant watched themand attended to them.

　　"He has not set foot here for a fortnight," muttered a voice.

　　The inspector did not say anything and led the way to the nextcell. Again the door was unlocked, and all got up and stoodsilent. Again the Englishman gave away Testaments. It was thesame in the fifth and sixth cells, in those to the right andthose to the left.

　　From those sentenced to hard labour they went on to the exiles.

　　From the exiles to those evicted by the Commune and those whofollowed of their own free will.

　　Everywhere men, cold, hungry, idle, infected, degraded,imprisoned, were shown off like wild beasts.

　　The Englishman, having given away the appointed number ofTestaments, stopped giving any more, and made no speeches. Theoppressing sight, and especially the stifling atmosphere, quelledeven his energy, and he went from cell to cell, saying nothingbut "All right" to the inspector's remarks about what prisonersthere were in each cell.

　　Nekhludoff followed as in a dream, unable either to refuse to goon or to go away, and with the same feelings of weariness andhopelessness.

　　CHAPTER XXVII.

　　KRYLTZOFF AT REST.

　　In one of the exiles' cells Nekhludoff, to his surprise,recognised the strange old man he had seen crossing the ferrythat morning. This old man was sitting on the floor by the beds,barefooted, with only a dirty cinder-coloured shirt on, torn onone shoulder, and similar trousers. He looked severely andenquiringly at the newcomers. His emaciated body, visible throughthe holes of his shirt, looked miserably weak, but in his facewas even more concentrated seriousness and animation than whenNekhludoff saw him crossing the ferry. As in all the other cells,so here also the prisoners jumped up and stood erect when theofficial entered, but the old man remained sitting. His eyesglittered and his brows frowned with wrath.

　　"Get up," the inspector called out to him.

　　The old man did not rise and only smiled contemptuously.

　　"Thy servants are standing before thee. I am not thy servant.Thou bearest the seal--" The old man pointed to the inspector'sforehead.

　　"Wha-a-t?" said the inspector threateningly, and made a steptowards him.

　　"I know this man," Nekhludoff hastened to say; "what is heimprisoned for?"

　　"The police have sent him here because he has no passport. We askthem not to send such, but they will do it," said the inspector,casting an angry side look at the old man.

　　"And so it seems thou, too, art one of Antichrist's army?" theold man said to Nekhludoff.

　　"No, I am a visitor," said Nekhludoff.

　　"What, hast thou come to see how Antichrist tortures men? There,look, he has locked them up in a cage, a whole army of them. Menshould cat bread in the sweat of their brow. And he has lockedthem up with no work to do, and feeds them like swine, so thatthey should turn into beasts."

　　"What is he saying?" asked the Englishman.

　　Nekhludoff told him the old man was blaming the inspector forkeeping men imprisoned.

　　"Ask him how he thinks one should treat those who do not keep tothe laws," said the Englishman.

　　Nekhludoff translated the question. The old man laughed in astrange manner, showing his teeth.

　　"The laws?" he repeated with contempt. "He first robbedeverybody, took all the earth, all the rights away from men,killed all those who were against him, and then wrote laws,forbidding robbery and murder. He should have written these lawsbefore."

　　Nekhludoff translated. The Englishman smiled. "Well, anyhow, askhim how one should treat thieves and murderers at present?"

　　Nekhludoff again translated his question.

　　"Tell him he should take the seal of Antichrist off himself," theold man said, frowning severely; "then there will he no thievesand murderers. Tell him so."

　　"He is crazy," said the Englishman, when Nekhludoff hadtranslated the old man's words, and, shrugging his shoulders, heleft the cell.

　　"Do thy business and leave them alone. Every one for himself. Godknows whom to execute, whom to forgive, and we do not know," saidthe old man. "Every man be his own chief, then the chiefs willnot be wanted. Go, go!" he added, angrily frowning and lookingwith glittering eyes at Nekhludoff, who lingered in the cell."Hast thou not looked on long enough how the servants ofAntichrist feed lice on men? Go, go!"

　　When Nekhludoff went out he saw the Englishman standing by theopen door of an empty cell with the inspector, asking what thecell was for. The inspector explained that it was the mortuary.

　　"Oh," said the Englishman when Nekhludoff had translated, andexpressed the wish to go in.

　　The mortuary was an ordinary cell, not very large. A small lamphung on the wall and dimly lit up sacks and logs of wood thatwere piled up in one corner, and four dead bodies lay on thebedshelves to the right. The first body had a coarse linen shirtand trousers on; it was that of a tall man with a small beard andhalf his head shaved. The body was quite rigid; the bluish hands,that had evidently been folded on the breast, had separated; thelegs were also apart and the bare feet were sticking out. Next tohim lay a bare-footed old woman in a white petticoat, her head,with its thin plait of hair, uncovered, with a little, pinchedyellow face and a sharp nose. Beyond her was another man withsomething lilac on. This colour reminded Nekhludoff of something.He came nearer and looked at the body. The small, pointed beardsticking upwards, the firm, well-shaped nose, the high, whiteforehead, the thin, curly hair; he recognised the familiarfeatures and could hardly believe his eyes. Yesterday he had seenthis face, angry, excited, and full of suffering; now it wasquiet, motionless, and terribly beautiful. Yes, it was Kryltzoff,or at any rate the trace that his material existence had leftbehind. "Why had he suffered? Why had he lived? Does he nowunderstand?" Nekhludoff thought, and there seemed to be noanswer, seemed to be nothing but death, and he felt faint.Without taking leave of the Englishman, Nekhludoff asked theinspector to lead him out into the yard, and feeling the absolutenecessity of being alone to think over all that had happened thatevening, he drove back to his hotel.

　　CHAPTER XXVIII.

　　A NEW LIFE DAWNS FOR NEKHLUDOFF.

　　Nekhludoff did not go to bed, but went up and down his room for along time. His business with Katusha was at an end. He was notwanted, and this made him sad and ashamed. His other business wasnot only unfinished, but troubled him more than ever and demandedhis activity. All this horrible evil that he had seen and learnedto know lately, and especially to-day in that awful prison, thisevil, which had killed that dear Kryltzoff, ruled and wastriumphant, and he could foreseen possibility of conquering oreven knowing how to conquer it. Those hundreds and thousands ofdegraded human beings locked up in the noisome prisons byindifferent generals, procureurs, inspectors, rose up in hisimagination; he remembered the strange, free old man accusing theofficials, and therefore considered mad, and among the corpsesthe beautiful, waxen face of Kryltzoff, who had died in anger.And again the question as to whether he was mad or those whoconsidered they were in their right minds while they committedall these deeds stood before him with renewed force and demandedan answer.

　　Tired of pacing up and down, tired of thinking, he sat down onthe sofa near the lamp and mechanically opened the Testamentwhich the Englishman had given him as a remembrance, and which hehad thrown on the table when he emptied his pockets on coming in.

　　"It is said one can find an answer to everything here," hethought, and opened the Testament at random and began readingMatt. xviii. 1-4: "In that hour came the disciples unto Jesus,saying, Who then is greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven? And Hecalled to Him a little child, and set him in the midst of them,and said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye turn and become aslittle children, ye shall in nowise enter into the Kingdom ofHeaven. Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this littlechild the same is the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven."

　　"Yes, yes, that is true," he said, remembering that he had knownthe peace and joy of life only when he had humbled himself.

　　"And whosoever shall receive one such little child in My namereceiveth Me, but whoso shall cause one of these little ones tostumble, it is more profitable for him that a great millstoneshould be hanged about his neck and that he should be sunk in thedepths of the sea." (Matt. xviii. 5, 6.)

　　"What is this for, 'Whosoever shall receive?' Receive where? Andwhat does 'in my name' mean?" he asked, feeling that these wordsdid not tell him anything. "And why 'the millstone round his neckand the depths of the sea?' No, that is not it: it is not clear,"and he remembered how more than once in his life he had taken toreading the Gospels, and how want of clearness in these passageshad repulsed him. He went on to read the seventh, eighth, ninth,and tenth verses about the occasions of stumbling, and that theymust come, and about punishment by casting men into hell fire,and some kind of angels who see the face of the Father in Heaven."What a pity that this is so incoherent," he thought, "yet onefeels that there is something good in it."

　　"For the Son of Man came to save that which was lost," hecontinued to read.

　　"How think ye? If any man have a hundred sheep and one of them goastray, doth he not leave the ninety and nine and go into themountains and seek that which goeth astray? And if so be that hefind it, verily I say unto you, he rejoiceth over it more thanover the ninety and nine which have not gone astray.

　　"Even so it is not the will of your Father which is in Heaventhat one of these little ones should perish."

　　"Yes, it is not the will of the Father that they should perish,and here they are perishing by hundreds and thousands. And thereis no possibility of saving them," he thought.

　　Then came Peter and said to him, How oft shall my brother offendme and I forgive him? Until seven times? Jesus saith unto him, Isay not unto thee until seven times, but until seventy timesseven.

　　"Therefore is the Kingdom of Heaven likened unto a certain kingwhich made a reckoning with his servants. And when he had begunto reckon, one was brought unto him which owed him ten thousandtalents. But forasmuch as he had not wherewith to pay, his lordcommanded him to be sold, and his wife and children, and all thathe had, and payment to be made. The servant therefore fell downand worshipped him, saying, Lord, have patience with me; I willpay thee all. And the lord of that servant, being moved withcompassion, released him and forgave him the debt. But thatservant went out, and found one of his fellow-servants which owedhim a hundred pence; and he laid hold on him and took him by thethroat, saying, Pay what thou owest. So his fellow-servant felldown and besought him, saying, Have patience with me and I willpay thee. And he would not, but went and cast him into prisontill he should pay that which was due. So when hisfellow-servants saw what was done, they were exceeding sorry, andcame and told unto their lord all that was done. Then his lordcalled him unto him and saith to him, Thou wicked servant, Iforgave thee all that debt because thou besought me; shouldst notthou also have mercy on thy fellow-servant as I had mercy onthee?"

　　"And is this all?" Nekhludoff suddenly exclaimed aloud, and theinner voice of the whole of his being said, "Yes, it is all." Andit happened to Nekhludoff, as it often happens to men who areliving a spiritual life. The thought that seemed strange at firstand paradoxical or even to be only a joke, being confirmed moreand more often by life's experience, suddenly appeared as thesimplest, truest certainty. In this way the idea that the onlycertain means of salvation from the terrible evil from which menwere suffering was that they should always acknowledge themselvesto be sinning against God, and therefore unable to punish orcorrect others, because they were dear to Him. It became clear tohim that all the dreadful evil he had been witnessing in prisonsand jails and the quiet self-satisfaction of the perpetrators ofthis evil were the consequences of men trying to do what wasimpossible; trying to correct evil while being evil themselves;vicious men were trying to correct other vicious men, and thoughtthey could do it by using mechanical means, and the onlyconsequence of all this was that the needs and the cupidity ofsome men induced them to take up this so-called punishment andcorrection as a profession, and have themselves become utterlycorrupt, and go on unceasingly depraving those whom they torment.Now he saw clearly what all the terrors he had seen came from,and what ought to be done to put a stop to them. The answer hecould not find was the same that Christ gave to Peter. It wasthat we should forgive always an infinite number of times becausethere are no men who have not sinned themselves, and thereforenone can punish or correct others.

　　"But surely it cannot he so simple," thought Nekhludoff, and yethe saw with certainty, strange as it had seemed at first, that itwas not only a theoretical but also a practical solution of thequestion. The usual objection, "What is one to do with the evildoers? Surely not let them go unpunished?" no longer confusedhim. This objection might have a meaning if it were proved thatpunishment lessened crime, or improved the criminal, but when thecontrary was proved, and it was evident that it was not inpeople's power to correct each other, the only reasonable thingto do is to leave off doing the things which are not onlyuseless, but harmful, immoral and cruel.

　　For many centuries people who were considered criminals have beentortured. Well, and have they ceased to exist? No; their numbershave been increased not alone by the criminals corrupted bypunishment but also by those lawful criminals, the judges,procureurs, magistrates and jailers, who judge and punish men.Nekhludoff now understood that society and order in generalexists not because of these lawful criminals who judge and punishothers, but because in spite of men being thus depraved, theystill pity and love one another.

　　In hopes of finding a confirmation of this thought in the Gospel,Nekhludoff began reading it from the beginning. When he had readthe Sermon on the Mount, which had always touched him, he saw init for the first time to-day not beautiful abstract thoughts,setting forth for the most part exaggerated and impossibledemands, but simple, clear, practical laws. If these laws werecarried out in practice (and this was quite possible) they wouldestablish perfectly new and surprising conditions of social life,in which the violence that filled Nekhludoff with suchindignation would cease of itself. Not only this, but thegreatest blessing that is obtainable to men, the Kingdom ofHeaven on Earth would he established. There were five of theselaws.

　　The first (Matt. v. 21-26), that man should not only do nomurder, but not even be angry with his brother, should notconsider any one worthless: "Raca," and if he has quarrelled withany one he should make it up with him before bringing his gift toGod--i.e., before praying.

　　The second (Matt. v. 27-32), that man should not only not commitadultery but should not even seek for enjoyment in a woman'sbeauty, and if he has once come together with a woman he shouldnever be faithless to her.

　　The third (Matt. 33-37), that man should never bind himself byoath.

　　The fourth (Matt. 38-42), that man should not only not demand aneye for an eye, but when struck on one cheek should hold out theother, should forgive an offence and bear it humbly, and neverrefuse the service others demand of him.

　　The fifth (Matt. 43-48), that man should not only not hate hisenemy and not fight him, but love him, help him, serve him.

　　Nekhludoff sat staring at the lamp and his heart stood still.Recalling the monstrous confusion of the life we lead, hedistinctly saw what that life could be if men were brought up toobey these rules, and rapture such as he had long not felt filledhis soul, just as if after long days of weariness and sufferinghe had suddenly found ease and freedom.

　　He did not sleep all night, and as it happens to many and many aman who reads the Gospels he understood for the first time thefull meaning of the words read so often before but passed byunnoticed. He imbibed all these necessary, important and joyfulrevelations as a sponge imbibes water. And all he read seemed sofamiliar and seemed to confirm, to form into a conception, whathe had known long ago, but had never realised and never quitebelieved. Now he realised and believed it, and not only realisedand believed that if men would obey these laws they would obtainthe highest blessing they can attain to, he also realised andbelieved that the only duty of every man is to fulfil these laws;that in this lies the only reasonable meaning of life, that everystepping aside from these laws is a mistake which is immediatelyfollowed by retribution. This flowed from the whole of theteaching, and was most strongly and clearly illustrated in theparable of the vineyard.

　　The husbandman imagined that the vineyard in which they were sentto work for their master was their own, that all that was in wasmade for them, and that their business was to enjoy life in thisvineyard, forgetting the Master and killing all those whoreminded them of his existence. "Are we do not doing the same,"Nekhludoff thought, "when we imagine ourselves to be masters ofour lives, and that life is given us for enjoyment? Thisevidently is an incongruity. We were sent here by some one's willand for some reason. And we have concluded that we live only forour own joy, and of course we feel unhappy as labourers do whennot fulfilling their Master's orders. The Master's will isexpressed in these commandments. If men will only fulfil theselaws, the Kingdom of Heaven will be established on earth, and menwill receive the greatest good that they can attain to.

　　"'Seek ye first the Kingdom and His righteousness, and all thesethings shall be added unto you.'

　　"And so here it is, the business of my life. Scarcely have Ifinished one and another has commenced." And a perfectly new lifedawned that night for Nekhludoff, not because he had entered intonew conditions of life, but because everything he did after thatnight had a new and quite different significance than before. Howthis new period of his life will end time alone will prove.

　　End XFIR��MZ�