This room, like the one in the men's ward, was also divided in three,
by two nets, but it was considerably smaller. There were also fewer
visitors and fewer prisoners, but the noise was as great as in the
men's room. Here, also, the authorities stood guard between the nets.
The authorities were here represented by a matron in uniform with
crown-laced sleeves and fringed with blue braid and a belt of the same
color. Here, too, people pressed against the nets--in the
passage--city folks in divers dresses; behind the nets, female
prisoners, some in white, others in their own dresses. The whole net
was lined with people. Some stood on tip-toe, speaking over the heads
of others; others, again, sat on the floor and conversed.
The most remarkable of the women prisoners, both in her shouting and
appearance, was a thin, ragged gipsy, with a 'kerchief which had
slipped from her head, who stood almost in the middle of the room,
near a post, behind the net, gesticulating and shouting to a short and
tightly belted gipsy in a blue coat. A soldier sat beside him on the
floor, talking to a prisoner. Beyond stood a young peasant with a
light beard and in bast shoes, pressing his flushed face to the net,
evidently with difficulty suppressing his tears. He was talking to a
pretty, light-haired prisoner who gazed at him with her bright, blue
eyes. This was Theodosia, with her husband. Beside them stood a tramp,
who was talking to a disheveled, broad-faced woman. Further on there
were two women, a man, and again a woman, and opposite each was a
prisoner. Maslova was not among them. But behind the prisoners stood
another woman. Nekhludoff felt the beating of his heart increasing and
his breath failing him. The decisive moment was approaching. He neared
the net and recognized Katiousha. She stood behind the blue-eyed
Theodosia, and, smiling, listened to her conversation. She did not
wear the prison coat, but a white waist, tightly belted, and rising
high above the breast. As in the court, her black hair hung in curls
over her 'kerchiefed forehead.
"It will all be over in a moment," he thought. "Shall I address her,
or shall I wait till she addresses me?"
But she did not address him. She was waiting for Clara, and never
thought that that man came to see her.
"Whom do you wish to see?" the matron asked Nekhludoff, approaching
him.
"Katherine Maslova," he stammered.
"Maslova, you are wanted," shouted the matron.
Maslova turned round, raised her head, and with the familiar
expression of submissiveness, came to the net. She did not recognize
Nekhludoff, and gazed at him in surprise. However, judging by his
dress that he was a rich man, she smiled.
"What are you?" she asked, pressing her smiling face with squinting
eyes against the net.
"I wish to see--" He did not know whether to use the respectful "you"
or the endearing "thou," and decided on the former. He spoke no louder
than usual. "I wish to see you--I----"
"Don't give me any of your song and dance----" the tramp beside him
shouted. "Did you take it, or did you not?"
"She is dying; she is very weak," some one shouted on the other side.
Maslova could not hear Nekhludoff, but the expression of his face, as
she spoke, suddenly reminded her of that which she did not wish to
think of. The smile disappeared from her face, and a wrinkle on her
brow evidenced her suffering.
"I cannot hear what you are saying," she shouted, blinking and still
more knitting her brows.
"I came----"
"Yes, I am doing my duty; I am repenting," thought Nekhludoff, and
immediately tears filled his eyes, and he felt a choking sensation in
his throat. His fingers clutched at the net and he made efforts to
keep from sobbing.
"I should not have gone if you were well," came from one side.
"I swear by God I know nothing about it!" cried a prisoner from the
other side.
Maslova noticed his agitation, and it communicated itself to her. Her
eyes sparkled, and her puffy, white cheeks became covered with red
spots, but her face retained its severity, and her squinting eyes
stared past him.
"You are like him, but I don't know you," she shouted.
"I came here to ask your forgiveness," he said in a loud voice,
without intonation, as if repeating a lesson he had learned by heart.
As he said these words he felt ashamed and looked round. But the
thought immediately came to his mind that it was well that he was
ashamed, for he ought to bear the shame. And in a loud voice he
continued:
"I acted meanly, infamously--forgive me."
She stood motionless, her squinting eyes fixed on him.
He could not continue and left the net, making efforts to stifle the
sobbing which was convulsing his breast.
The inspector who directed Nekhludoff to the women's ward, evidently
becoming interested in him, came into the room, and, seeing him in the
middle of the passage, asked him why he was not speaking with the
prisoner he had inquired about. Nekhludoff blew his nose, and,
endeavoring to assume an air of calmness, said:
"I can't speak through the net; nothing can be heard."
The inspector mused awhile.
"Well, then, she can be brought out for awhile."
"Maria Karlovna!" he turned to the matron. "Lead Maslova out."