A moment afterward Maslova came out through a side door. With gentle
step she came up to Nekhludoff; stopped and glanced at him from under
her lowered eyebrows. Her black hair stood out on her forehead in
curly ringlets; her unhealthy, bloated, white face was pretty and very
calm, only her shining-black, squinting eyes sparkled from under their
swollen lashes.
"You may talk here," said the inspector and went aside.
Nekhludoff moved toward a bench standing beside the wall.
Maslova glanced inquiringly at the inspector, and shrugging her
shoulders, as if in wonder, followed Nekhludoff to the bench, and
straightening her skirt, sat down beside him.
"I know that it is hard for you to forgive me," began Nekhludoff, but
feeling the tears flooding his eyes, again stopped, "but if the past
cannot be mended, I will do now everything in my power. Tell me----"
"How did you find me?" she asked without answering his question, her
squinting eyes looking and not looking at him.
"Oh, Lord! Help me, teach me what to do!" Nekhludoff said to himself
as he looked at her face so completely changed.
"I was on the jury when you were tried," he said. "You did not
recognize me?"
"No, I did not. I had no time to recognize you. Besides, I did not
look," she answered.
"Wasn't there a child?" he asked, and he felt his face turning red.
"It died at that time, thank God," she said with bitterness, turning
away her head.
"How did it happen?"
"I was ill myself--nearly died," she said without raising her eyes.
"How could the aunts let you go?"
"Who would keep a servant with a child? As soon as they noticed it
they drove me out. But what is the use of talking! I don't remember
anything. It is all over now."
"No, it is not over. I cannot leave it thus. I now wish to atone for
my sin."
"There is nothing to atone for; what's gone is gone," she said, and,
all unexpected to him, she suddenly looked at him and smiled in an
alluring and piteous manner.
His appearance was entirely unexpected to Maslova, especially at this
time and place, and therefore the astonishment of the first moment
brought to her mind that of which she never thought before. At the
first moment she hazily recalled that new, wonderful world of feeling
and thought which had been opened to her by that charming young man
who loved her, and whom she loved, and then his inexplicable cruelty
and the long chain of humiliation and suffering which followed as the
direct result of that enchanting bliss, and it pained her. But being
unable to account for it all, she did the customary thing for
her--banished all these recollections from her mind, and endeavored to
obscure them by a life of dissipation. At first she associated this
man who sat beside her with that young man whom she had loved once,
but as the thought pained her, she drove it from her mind. And now
this neatly dressed gentleman, with perfumed beard, was to her not
that Nekhludoff whom she had loved, but one of those people who, as
opportunity afforded, were taking advantage of such creatures as she,
and of whom such creatures as she ought to take advantage as
opportunity offers. For this reason she smiled alluringly.
She was silent, thinking how to profit by him.
"All that is over now," she said. "And here I am, sentenced to penal
servitude."
Her lips trembled as she spoke the terrible word.
"I knew, I was certain that you were innocent," said Nekhludoff.
"Of course I was innocent. I am no thief or robber. They say here that
it all depends on the lawyer; that it is necessary to appeal. Only
they say it comes very high----"
"Yes, certainly," said Nekhludoff. "I have already seen a lawyer."
"One must not be sparing, and get a good one," she said.
"I will do everything in my power."
They were silent. She again smiled as before.
"I would like to ask you--for some money, if you have it--not much,
say ten rubles," she said suddenly.
"Yes, yes," said Nekhludoff, abashed, and thrust his hand in his
pocket.
She quickly glanced at the inspector, who was walking up and down the
aisle.
"Don't let him see it, or he will take it away."
Nekhludoff took out his pocketbook as soon as the director turned his
back on them, but before he could hand her the ten-ruble bill the
inspector turned round, facing them. He crumpled the bill in his hand.
"Why, she is a dead woman," thought Nekhludoff as he looked at her
once lovely, but now defiled, bloated face with the unhealthy sparkle
in her black, squinting eyes, which looked now at the inspector, now
at Nekhludoff's hand with the crumpled bill. And a moment of
hesitation came over him.
Again the tempter of the night before whispered in his soul,
endeavoring to turn the question, What would be the best thing to do?
into, What will be the end of it?
"You can do nothing with that woman," whispered the voice. "She will
be like a stone around your neck, which will drag you down, and
prevent your being useful to others. Give her all the money you have,
bid her good-by and put an end to it for all time."
And immediately he became aware that something important was taking
place in his soul; that his inner life was on a wavering scale, which
could by the slightest effort be made to overbalance to one side or
the other. And he made that effort, calling on that God whom the other
day he felt in his soul, and God immediately came to his aid. He
resolved to tell her all.
"Katiousha! I came to ask your forgiveness, but you have not answered
me whether you have forgiven me, or ever will forgive me," he said
suddenly.
She was not listening to him, but looked now at his hand, now at the
inspector. When the latter turned away, she quickly stretched forth
her hand, seized the money from Nekhludoff's hand and stuck it behind
her belt.
"How funny!" she said, smiling contemptuously as it seemed to him.
Nekhludoff saw that there was something inimical to him in her, which
stood guard, as it were, over her as she was now, and prevented him
from penetrating into her heart.
But--wonderful to relate--so far from repulsing him, this only drew
him to her by some new peculiar force. He felt that he ought to awaken
her spirit; that it was extremely difficult to do so; but the very
difficulty of the undertaking attracted him. He experienced a feeling
toward her which he had never experienced before, either toward her or
any one else, and in which there was nothing personal. He desired
nothing of her for himself, and only wished her to to cease to be what
she was now, and become what she had been before.
"Katiousha, why do you speak thus? I know you, I remember you as you
were in Panoff----"
But she did not yield--she would not yield.
"Why recall the past!" she said dryly, frowning even more.
"Because I wish to efface, to expiate my sin. Katiousha----" he began,
and was about to tell her that he would marry her, but he met her eyes
in which he read something so terrible, rude and repulsive that he
could not finish.
At that moment the visitors began to take leave. The inspector
approached Nekhludoff and told him that the time for interviewing was
ended. Maslova rose and submissively waited to be dismissed.
"Good-by. I have a great deal to tell you yet, but, as you see, I
cannot do it now," said Nekhludoff, and extended his hand. "I will
call again."
"I think you have said everything----"
She extended her hand, but did not press his.
"No. I will try to see you again, where we can speak together, and
then I will tell you something very important," said Nekhludoff.
"Well, all right," she said, smiling as she used to do when she
wished to please a man.
"You are more to me than a sister," said Nekhludoff.
"Funny," she repeated, and, shaking her head, she went behind the
grating.