The Complete Works of Leo Tolstoy (25+ Works with active table of contents)

by Leo Tolstoy

  "Fedotoff, have Maslova, cell 5, women's ward, taken to the office."

  "Will you come this way, please," he said, turning to Nekhludoff. They ascended a steep staircase and entered a little room with one window, a writing-table, and a few chairs in it. The inspector sat down.

  "Mine are heavy, heavy duties," he remarked, again addressing Nekhludoff, 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 only thought is how to get away. Heavy, heavy duties!"

  Nekhludoff did not know what the inspector's particular difficulties were, but he saw that to-day he was in a peculiarly dejected and hopeless condition, calling for pity.

  "Yes, I should think the duties were heavy for a kind-hearted man," 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 some measure; I soften down all I can. Another in my place would conduct the affairs quite differently. Why, we have more than 2,000 persons here. And what persons! One must know how to manage them. It is easier said than done, you know. After all, they are also men; one cannot help pitying them." The inspector began telling Nekhludoff of a fight that had lately taken place among the convicts, which had ended by one man being killed.

  The story was interrupted by the entrance of Maslova, who was accompanied by a jailer.

  Nekhludoff saw her through the doorway before she had noticed the inspector. She was following the warder briskly, smiling and tossing her head. When she saw the inspector she suddenly changed, and gazed at him with a frightened look; but, quickly recovering, she addressed Nekhludoff boldly and gaily.

  "How d'you do?" she said, drawling out her words, and Resurrection smilingly took his hand and shook it vigorously, not like the first time.

  "Here, I've brought you a petition to sign," said Nekhludoff, rather surprised by the boldness with which she greeted him to-day.

  "The advocate has written out a petition which you will have to sign, and then we shall send it to Petersburg."

  "All right! That can be done. Anything you like," she said, with a wink and a smile.

  And Nekhludoff drew a folded paper from his pocket and went up to the table.

  "May she sign it here?" asked Nekhludoff, turning to the inspector.

  "It's all right, it's all right! Sit down. Here's a pen; you can write?" said the inspector.

  "I could at one time," she said; and, after arranging her skirt and the sleeves of her jacket, she sat down at the table, smiled awkwardly, took the pen with her small, energetic hand, and glanced at Nekhludoff with a laugh.

  Nekhludoff told her what to write and pointed out the place where to sign.

  Sighing deeply as she dipped her pen into the ink, and carefully shaking 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 pen from her.

  "All right; tell me," she said. And suddenly, as if remembering something, or feeling sleepy, she grew serious.

  The inspector rose and left the room, and Nekhludoff remained with her.

  CHAPTER XLVIII

  .

  MASLOVA REFUSES TO MARRY.

  The jailer who had brought Maslova in sat on a windowsill at some distance from them.

  The decisive moment had come for Nekhludoff. He had been incessantly blaming himself for not having told her the principal thing at the first interview, and was now determined to tell her that he would marry her. She was sitting at the further side of the table. Nekhludoff sat down opposite her. It was light in the room, and Nekhludoff for the first time saw her face quite near. He distinctly saw the crowsfeet round her eyes, the wrinkles round her mouth, and the swollen eyelids. He felt more sorry than before. Leaning over the table so as not to be beard by the jailer--a man of Jewish type with grizzly whiskers, who sat by the window--Nekhludoff said:

  "Should this petition come to nothing we shall appeal to the Emperor. All that is possible shall be done."

  "There, now, if we had had a proper advocate from the first," she interrupted. "My defendant was quite a silly. He did nothing but pay me compliments," she said, and laughed. "If it had then been known that I was acquainted with you, it would have been another matter. They think every one's a thief."

  "How strange she is to-day," Nekhludoff thought, and was just going 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; such a fine one, d'you know, she just surprises every one; she is imprisoned for nothing, and her son, too, and everybody knows they are innocent, though they are accused of having set fire to a 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, and glancing at Nekhludoff. "Their name's Menshoff. Well, will you do it? Such a fine old thing, you know; you can see at once she's innocent. You'll do it, there's a dear," and she smiled, glanced up at him, and then cast down her eyes.

  "All right. I'll find out about them," Nekhludoff said, more and more astonished by her free-and-easy manner. "But I was going to speak to you about myself. Do you remember what I told you last time?"

  "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 made up my mind to marry you."

  An expression of fear suddenly came over her face. Her squinting eyes remained fixed on him, and yet seemed not to be looking at him.

  "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 ought to. God, indeed! What God? You ought to have remembered God then," she said, and stopped with her mouth open. It was only now that Nekhludoff noticed that her breath smelled of spirits, and that he understood the cause of her excitement.

  "Try and be calm," he said.

  "Why should I be calm?" she began, quickly, flushing scarlet. "I am a convict, and you are a gentleman and a prince. There's no need for you to soil yourself by touching me. You go to your princesses; my price is a ten-rouble note."

  "However cruelly you may speak, you cannot express what I myself am feeling," he said, trembling all over; "you cannot imagine to what extent I feel myself guilty towards you."

  "Feel yourself guilty?" she said, angrily mimicking him. "You did not 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. "I have 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 no business here," she cried, pulling away her hand, her whole appearance transformed by her wrath. "You've got pleasure out of me in this life, and want to save yourself through me in the life to come. You are disgusting to me--your spectacles and the whole of your dirty fat mug. Go, go!" she screamed, starting to her feet.

  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 a little," said Nekhludoff, and the jailer returned to the window.

  Maslova sat down again, dropping her eyes and firmly clasping her small hands.

  N
ekhludoff 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 hang myself. So there!"

  "Well, still I shall go on serving you."

  "That's your affair, only I don't want anything from you. I am telling you the plain truth," she said. "Oh, why did I not die then?" 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 wipe her tears with her kerchief.

  The jailer came up again and reminded them that it was time to part.

  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 the jailer out of the room.

  "Well, lass, you'll have rare times now," Korableva said, when Maslova 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 musical voice. "When a poor man thinks of getting married, there's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip; but a rich man need only make up his mind and it's done. We knew a toff like that duckie. What d'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 on the shelf bedstead, her squinting eyes fixed on a corner of the room, and lay there until the evening.

  A painful struggle went on in her soul. What Nekhludoff had told her called up the memory of that world in which she had suffered and which she had left without having understood, hating it. She now feared to wake from the trance in which she was living. Not having arrived at any conclusion when evening came, she again bought some vodka and drank with her companions.

  CHAPTER XLIX

  .

  VERA DOUKHOVA.

  "So this is what it means, this," thought Nekhludoff as he left the prison, only now fully understanding his crime. If he had not tried to expiate his guilt he would never have found out how great his crime was. Nor was this all; she, too, would never have felt the whole horror of what had been done to her. He only now saw what he had done to the soul of this woman; only now she saw and understood what had been done to her.

  Up to this time Nekhludoff had played with a sensation of self-admiration, had admired his own remorse; now he was simply filled with horror. He knew he could not throw her up now, and yet he could not imagine what would come of their relations to one 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 to Nekhludoff as he gave him the envelope.

  "What person?"

  "You will know when you read it. A political prisoner. I am in that ward, so she asked me; and though it is against the rules, still feelings of humanity--" The jailer spoke in an unnatural manner.

  Nekhludoff was surprised that a jailer of the ward where political prisoners were kept should pass notes inside the very prison walls, and almost within sight of every one; he did not then know that this was both a jailer and a spy. However, he took the note and read it on coming out of the prison.

  The note was written in a bold hand, and ran as follows: "Having heard that you visit the prison, and are interested in the case of a criminal prisoner, the desire of seeing you arose in me. Ask for a permission to see me. I can give you a good deal of information concerning your protegee, and also our group.--Yours gratefully, VERA DOUKHOVA."

  Vera Doukhova had been a school-teacher in an out-of-the-way village of the Novgorod Government, where Nekhludoff and some friends of his had once put up while bear hunting. Nekhludoff gladly and vividly recalled those old days, and his acquaintance with Doukhova. It was just before Lent, in an isolated spot, 40 miles from the railway. The hunt had been successful; two bears had been killed; and the company were having dinner before starting on their return journey, when the master of the hut where they were putting up came in to say that the deacon's daughter wanted to speak to Prince Nekhludoff. "Is she pretty?" some one asked. "None of that, please," Nekhludoff said, and rose with a serious look on his face. Wiping his mouth, and wondering what the deacon's daughter might want of him, he went into the host's private hut.

  There he found a girl with a felt hat and a warm cloak on--a sinewy, ugly girl; only her eyes with their arched brows were beautiful.

  "Here, miss, speak to him," said the old housewife; "this is the prince 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 such nonsense--on hunting," began the girl, in great confusion. "I know--I only want one thing--to be of use to the people, and I can do nothing because I know nothing--" Her eyes were so truthful, so kind, and her expression of resoluteness and yet bashfulness was so touching, that Nekhludoff, as it often happened 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; and I 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 to me, and when I have finished the course I shall repay you. I am thinking the rich kill bears and give the peasants drink; all this 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 his chaffing, Nekhludoff got the money out of his bag and took it to her.

  "Oh, please, do not thank me; it is I who should thank you," he said.

  It was pleasant to remember all this now; pleasant to remember that he had nearly had a quarrel with an officer who tried to make an objectionable joke of it, and how another of his comrades had taken his part, which led to a closer friendship between them. How successful the whole of that hunting expedition had been, and how happy he had felt when returning to the railway station 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 the snow, caked in heavy lumps on their branches. A red light flashes in the dark, some one lights an aromatic cigarette. Joseph, a bear driver, keeps running from sledge to sledge, up to his knees in snow, and while putting things to rights he speaks about the elk which are now going about on the deep snow and gnawing the bark off the aspen trees, of the bears that are lying asleep in their deep hidden dens, and his breath comes warm through the opening in the sledge cover. All this came back to Nekhludoff's mind; but, above all, the joyous sense of health, strength, and freedom from care: the lungs breathing in the frosty air so deeply that the fur cloak is drawn tightly on his chest, the fine snow 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, O God! what torment, what trouble!

  Evidently Vera Doukhova was a revolutionist and imprisoned as such. He must see her, especially as she promised to advise him how to lighten Maslova's lot.

  CHAPTER L

  .

  THE VICE-GOVERNOR OF THE PRISON.

  Awaking early the next morning, Nekhludoff remembered what he had done the day before, and was seized with fear.

  But in spite of this fear, he was more determined than ever to continue what he had begun.

  Conscious of a sense of duty, he left the house and went to see Maslennikoff
in order to obtain from him a permission to visit Maslova in prison, and also the Menshoffs--mother and son--about whom Maslova had spoken to him. Nekhludoff had known this Maslennikoff 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 to know nothing beyond the regiment and the Imperial family. Now Nekhludoff saw him as an administrator, who had exchanged the regiment for an administrative office in the government where he lived. He was married to a rich and energetic woman, who had forced him to exchange military for civil service. She laughed at him, and caressed him, as if he were her own pet animal. Nekhludoff had been to see them once during the winter, but the couple were so uninteresting to him that he had not gone again.