"Well, je suis à vous. Will you smoke a cigarette? But wait; we must
not soil the things here," and he brought an ash-holder. "Well?"
"I want two things of you."
"Is that so?"
Maslenikoff's face became gloomy and despondent. All traces of that
animation of the little dog whom its master had scratched under the
ears entirely disappeared. Voices came from the reception-room. One, a
woman's voice, said: "Jamais, jamais je ne croirais;" another, a man's
voice from the other corner, was telling something, constantly
repeating: "La Comtesse Vorouzoff" and "Victor Apraksine." From the
third side only a humming noise mingled with laughter was heard.
Maslenikoff listened to the voices; so did Nekhludoff.
"I want to talk to you again about that woman."
"Yes; who was innocently condemned. I know, I know."
"I would like her to be transferred to the hospital. I was told that
it can be done."
Maslenikoff pursed up his lips and began to meditate.
"It can hardly be done," he said. "However, I will consult about it,
and will wire you to-morrow."
"I was told that there are many sick people in the hospital, and they
need assistants."
"Well, yes. But I will let you know, as I said."
"Please do," said Nekhludoff.
There was a burst of general and even natural laughter in the
reception-room.
"That is caused by Victor," said Maslenikoff, smiling. "He is
remarkably witty when in high spirits."
"Another thing," said Nekhludoff. "There are a hundred and thirty men
languishing in prison for the only reason that their passports were
not renewed in time. They have been in prison now for a month."
And he related the causes that kept them there.
"How did you come to know it?" asked Nekhludoff, and his face showed
disquietude and displeasure.
"I was visiting a prisoner, and these people surrounded me and
asked----"
"What prisoner were you visiting?"
"The peasant who is innocently accused, and for whom I have obtained
counsel. But that is not to the point. Is it possible that these
innocent people are kept in prison only because they failed to renew
their passports?"
"That is the prosecutor's business," interrupted Maslenikoff, somewhat
vexed. "Now, you say that trials must be speedy and just. It is the
duty of the assistant prosecutor to visit the prisons and see that no
one is innocently kept there. But these assistants do nothing but play
cards."
"So you can do nothing for them?" Nekhludoff asked gloomily, recalling
the words of the lawyer, that the governor would shift the
responsibility.
"I will see to it. I will make inquiries immediately."
"So much the worse for her. C'est un souffre-douleur," came from the
reception-room, the voice of a woman apparently entirely indifferent
to what she was saying.
"So much the better; I will take this," from the other side was heard
a man's playful voice, and the merry laughter of a woman who refused
him something.
"No, no, for no consideration," said a woman's voice.
"Well, then, I will do everything," repeated Maslenikoff,
extinguishing the cigarette with his white hand, on which was a
turquoise ring. "Now, let us go to the ladies."
"And yet another question," said Nekhludoff, without going into the
reception-room, and stopping at the door. "I was told that some people
in the prison were subjected to corporal punishment. Is it true?"
Maslenikoff's face flushed.
"Ah! you have reference to that affair? No, mon cher, you must
positively not be admitted there--you want to know everything. Come,
come; Annette is calling us," he said, seizing Nekhludoff's arm with
the same excitement he evinced after the attention shown him by the
important person, but this time alarming, and not joyful.
Nekhludoff tore himself loose, and, without bowing or saying
anything, gloomily passed through the reception-room, the parlor and
by the lackeys, who sprang to their feet in the ante-chamber, to the
street.
"What is the matter with him? What did you do to him?" Annette asked
her husband.
"That is à la française," said some one.
"Rather à la zoulon."
"Oh, he has always been queer."
Some one arose, some one arrived, and the chirping continued.
The following morning Nekhludoff received from Maslenikoff a letter on
heavy, glossy paper, bearing a coat-of-arms and seals, written in a
fine, firm hand, in which he said that he had written to the prison
physician asking that Maslova be transferred, and that he hoped his
request would be acceded to. It was signed, "Your loving senior
comrade," followed by a remarkably skillful flourish.
"Fool!" Nekhludoff could not help exclaiming, especially because he
felt that by the word "comrade" Maslenikoff was condescending, i. e.,
although he considered himself a very important personage, he
nevertheless was not too proud of his greatness, and called himself
his comrade.