Resurrection by Leo Nikoleyevich Tolstoy (i love reading .TXT) đź“–
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near the net.
Everything here seemed strange to Nekhludoff; but strangest of
all was that he should have to thank and feel obligation towards
the inspector and the chief warders, the very men who were
performing the cruel deeds that were done in this house.
The corporal showed Nekhludoff through the corridor, out of the
men’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 fewer
prisoners, so that there was less shouting than in the men’s
room. Yet the same thing was going on here, only, between the
nets instead of soldiers there was a woman warder, dressed in a
blue-edged uniform jacket, with gold cords on the sleeves, and a
blue belt. Here also, as in the men’s room, the people were
pressing close to the wire netting on both sides; on the nearer
side, the townspeople in varied attire; on the further side, the
prisoners, some in white prison clothes, others in their own
coloured dresses. The whole length of the net was taken up by the
people standing close to it. Some rose on tiptoe to be heard
across the heads of others; some sat talking on the floor.
The most remarkable of the prisoners, both by her piercing
screams and her appearance, was a thin, dishevelled gipsy. Her
kerchief had slipped off her curly hair, and she stood near a
post in the middle of the prisoner’s division, shouting
something, accompanied by quick gestures, to a gipsy man in a
blue coat, girdled tightly below the waist. Next the gipsy man, a
soldier sat on the ground talking to prisoner; next the soldier,
leaning close to the net, stood a young peasant, with a fair
beard and a flushed face, keeping back his tears with difficulty.
A pretty, fair-haired prisoner, with bright blue eyes, was
speaking to him. These two were Theodosia and her husband. Next
to them was a tramp, talking to a broad-faced woman; then two
women, then a man, then again a woman, and in front of each a
prisoner. Maslova was not among them. But some one stood by the
window behind the prisoners, and Nekhludoff knew it was she. His
heart began to beat faster, and his breath stopped. The decisive
moment was approaching. He went up to the part of the net where
he could see the prisoner, and recognised her at once. She stood
behind the blue-eyed Theodosia, and smiled, listening to what
Theodosia was saying. She did not wear the prison cloak now, but
a white dress, tightly drawn in at the waist by a belt, and very
full in the bosom. From under her kerchief appeared the black
ringlets 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 her
never entered her head.
“Whom do you want?” said the warder who was walking between the
nets, 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 expanded
chest, came up to the net with that expression of readiness which
he well knew, pushed in between two prisoners, and gazed at
Nekhludoff with a surprised and questioning look. But, concluding
from his clothing he was a rich man, she smiled.
“Is it me you want?” she asked, bringing her smiling face, with
the slightly squinting eyes, nearer the net.
“I, I—I wished to see—” Nekhludoff did not know how to address
her. “I wished to see you—I—” He was not speaking louder than
usual.
“No; nonsense, I tell you!” shouted the tramp who stood next to
him. “Have you taken it or not?”
“Dying, I tell you; what more do you want?” some one else was
screaming at his other side. Maslova could not hear what
Nekhludoff was saying, but the expression of his face as he was
speaking reminded her of him. She did not believe her own eyes;
still the smile vanished from her face and a deep line of
suffering appeared on her brow.
“I cannot hear what you are saying,” she called out, wrinkling
her brow and frowning more and more.
“I have come,” said Nekhludoff. “Yes, I am doing my duty—I am
confessing,” thought Nekhludoff; and at this thought the tears
came in his eyes, and he felt a choking sensation in his throat,
and holding on with both hands to the net, he made efforts to
keep 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 the
other 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 still
more stern.
“I have come to ask you to forgive me,” he said, in a loud but
monotonous voice, like a lesson learnt by heart. Having said
these words he became confused; but immediately came the thought
that, if he felt ashamed, it was all the better; he had to bear
this shame, and he continued in a loud voice:
“Forgive me; I have wronged you terribly.”
She stood motionless and without taking her squinting eyes off
him.
He could not continue to speak, and stepping away from the net he
tried to suppress the sobs that were choking him.
The inspector, the same officer who had directed Nekhludoff to
the women’s ward, and whose interest he seemed to have aroused,
came into the room, and, seeing Nekhludoff not at the net, asked
him why he was not talking to her whom he wanted to see.
Nekhludoff blew his nose, gave himself a shake, and, trying to
appear 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. Mary
Karlovna,” turning to the warder, “lead Maslova out.”
A minute later Maslova came out of the side door. Stepping
softly, she came up close to Nekhludoff, stopped, and looked up
at him from under her brows. Her black hair was arranged in
ringlets over her forehead in the same way as it had been two
days ago; her face, though unhealthy and puffy, was attractive,
and looked perfectly calm, only the glittering black eyes glanced
strangely from under the swollen lids.
“You may talk here,” said the inspector, and shrugging his
shoulders he stepped aside with a look of surprise. Nekhludoff
moved towards a seat by the wall.
Maslova cast a questioning look at the inspector, and then,
shrugging her shoulders in surprise, followed Nekhludoff to the
bench, 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, I
shall now do what is in my power. Tell me—”
“How have you managed to find me?” she said, without answering
his 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 before
yesterday,” he said. “You did not recognise me?”
“No, I did not; there was not time for recognitions. I did not
even look,” she said.
“There was a child, was there not?” he asked.
“Thank God! he died at once,” she answered, abruptly and
viciously.
“What do you mean? Why?”
“I was so ill myself, I nearly died,” she said, in the same quiet
voice, which Nekhludoff had not expected and could not
understand.
“How could my aunts have let you go?”
“Who keeps a servant that has a baby? They sent me off as soon as
they noticed. But why speak of this? I remember nothing. That’s
all 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 and
smiled in an unpleasantly luring, yet piteous, manner.
Maslova never expected to see him again, and certainly not here
and not now; therefore, when she first recognised him, she could
not keep back the memories which she never wished to revive. In
the first moment she remembered dimly that new, wonderful world
of feeling and of thought which had been opened to her by the
charming young man who loved her and whom she loved, and then his
incomprehensible cruelty and the whole string of humiliations and
suffering which flowed from and followed that magic joy. This
gave her pain, and, unable to understand it, she did what she was
always in the habit of doing, she got rid of these memories by
enveloping them in the mist of a depraved life. In the first
moment, she associated the man now sitting beside her with the
lad she had loved; but feeling that this gave her pain, she
dissociated them again. Now, this well-dressed, carefully-got-up
gentleman with perfumed beard was no longer the Nekhludoff whom
she had loved but only one of the people who made use of
creatures like herself when they needed them, and whom creatures
like herself had to make use of in their turn as profitably as
they could; and that is why she looked at him with a luring smile
and 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 something
out of him.
“They say here that all depends on the advocate,” she began. “A
petition should be handed in, only they say it’s expensive.”
“Yes, most certainly,” said Nekhludoff. “I have already spoken to
an 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 felt
for his purse.
She looked rapidly at the inspector, who was walking up and down
the 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 turned
his back; but had no time to hand her the note before the
inspector faced them again, so he crushed it up in his hand.
“This woman is dead,” Nekhludoff thought, looking at this once
sweet, and now defiled, puffy face, lit up by an evil glitter in
the black, squinting eyes which were now glancing at the hand in
which he held the note, then following the inspector’s movements,
and for a moment he hesitated. The tempter
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