Resurrection by Leo Tolstoy (best sci fi novels of all time TXT) 📕

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 a 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. Máslova was not among them. But someone stood by the window behind the prisoners, and Nekhlúdoff 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 Nekhlúdoff.

“Katerína Máslova,” Nekhlúdoff uttered, with difficulty.

“Katerína Máslova, someone to see you,” cried the warder.

XLIII

Máslova 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 Nekhlúdoff 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—” Nekhlúdoff 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?” someone else was screaming at his other side. Máslova could not hear what Nekhlúdoff 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 Nekhlúdoff. “Yes, I am doing my duty⁠—I am confessing,” thought Nekhlúdoff; 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?” someone shouted at one side of him.

“God is my witness; I know nothing,” screamed a prisoner from the other side.

Noticing his excitement, Máslova 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 Nekhlúdoff to the women’s ward, and whose interest he seemed to have aroused, came into the room, and, seeing Nekhlúdoff not at the net, asked him why he was not talking to her whom he wanted to see. Nekhlúdoff 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 Kárlovna,” turning to the warder, “lead Máslova out.”

A minute later Máslova came out of the side door. Stepping softly, she came up close to Nekhlúdoff, 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. Nekhlúdoff moved towards a seat by the wall.

Máslova cast a questioning look at the inspector, and then, shrugging her shoulders in surprise, followed Nekhlúdoff 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,” Nekhlúdoff 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