Resurrection, Leo Tolstoy [top 5 books to read .txt] 📗

said, quickly and resolutely, blushing, and feeling that he was taking a step which would have a decisive influence on his life.

The Procureur was a short, dark man, with short, grizzly hair, quick, sparkling eyes, and a thick beard cut close on his projecting lower jaw.

“Máslova? Yes, of course, I know. She was accused of poisoning,” the Procureur said, quietly. “But why do you want to see her?” And then, as if wishing to tone down his question, he added, “I cannot give you the permission without knowing why you require it.”

“I require it for a particularly important reason.”

“Yes?” said the Procureur, and, lifting his eyes, looked attentively at Nekhlúdoff. “Has her case been heard or not?”

“She was tried yesterday, and unjustly sentenced; she is innocent.”

“Yes? If she was sentenced only yesterday,” went on the Procureur, paying no attention to Nekhlúdoff’s statement concerning Máslova’s innocence, “she must still be in the preliminary detention prison until the sentence is delivered in its final form. Visiting is allowed there only on certain days; I should advise you to inquire there.”

“But I must see her as soon as possible,” Nekhlúdoff said, his jaw trembling as he felt the decisive moment approaching.

“Why must you?” said the Procureur, lifting his brows with some agitation.

“Because I seduced her and brought her to the condition which exposed her to this accusation.”

“All the same, I cannot see what it has to do with visiting her.”

“This: that whether I succeed or not in getting the sentence changed I want to follow her, and⁠—marry her,” said Nekhlúdoff, touched to tears by his own conduct, and at the same time pleased to see the effect he produced on the Procureur.

“Really! Dear me!” said the Procureur. “This is certainly a very exceptional case. I believe you are a member of the Krasnopérsk rural administration?” he asked, as if he remembered having heard before of this Nekhlúdoff, who was now making so strange a declaration.

“I beg your pardon, but I do not think that has anything to do with my request,” answered Nekhlúdoff, flushing angrily.

“Certainly not,” said the Procureur, with a scarcely perceptible smile and not in the least abashed; “only your wish is so extraordinary and so out of the common.”

“Well; but can I get the permission?”

“The permission? Yes, I will give you an order of admittance directly. Take a seat.”

He went up to the table, sat down, and began to write. “Please sit down.”

Nekhlúdoff continued to stand.

Having written an order of admittance, and handed it to Nekhlúdoff, the Procureur looked curiously at him.

“I must also state that I can no longer take part in the sessions.”

“Then you will have to lay valid reasons before the Court, as you, of course, know.”

“My reasons are that I consider all judging not only useless, but immoral.”

“Yes,” said the Procureur, with the same scarcely perceptible smile, as if to show that this kind of declaration was well known to him and belonged to the amusing sort. “Yes, but you will certainly understand that I as Procureur, can not agree with you on this point. Therefore, I should advise you to apply to the Court, which will consider your declaration, and find it valid or not valid, and in the latter case will impose a fine. Apply, then, to the Court.”

“I have made my declaration, and shall apply nowhere else,” Nekhlúdoff said, angrily.

“Well, then, good afternoon,” said the Procureur, bowing his head, evidently anxious to be rid of this strange visitor.

“Who was that you had here?” asked one of the members of the Court, as he entered, just after Nekhlúdoff left the room.

“Nekhlúdoff, you know; the same that used to make all sorts of strange statements at the Krasnopérsk rural meetings. Just fancy! He is on the jury, and among the prisoners there is a woman or girl sentenced to penal servitude, whom he says he seduced, and now he wants to marry her.”

“You don’t mean to say so.”

“That’s what he told me. And in such a strange state of excitement!”

“There is something abnormal in the young men of today.”

“Oh, but he is not so very young.”

“Yes. But how tiresome your famous Ivoshénka was. He carries the day by wearying one out. He talked and talked without end.”

“Oh, that kind of people should be simply stopped, or they will become real obstructionists.”

XXXVI

From the Procureur Nekhlúdoff went straight to the preliminary detention prison. However, no Máslova was to be found there, and the inspector explained to Nekhlúdoff that she would probably be in the old temporary prison. Nekhlúdoff went there.

The distance between the two prisons was enormous, and Nekhlúdoff only reached the old prison towards evening. He was going up to the door of the large, gloomy building, but the sentinel stopped him and rang. A warder came in answer to the bell. Nekhlúdoff showed him his order of admittance, but the warder said he could not let him in without the inspector’s permission. Nekhlúdoff went to see the inspector. As he was going up the stairs he heard distant sounds of some complicated bravura, played on the piano. When a cross servant girl, with a bandaged eye, opened the door to him, those sounds seemed to escape from the room and to strike his car. It was a rhapsody of Liszt’s, that everybody was tired of, splendidly played but only to one point. When that point was reached the same thing was repeated. Nekhlúdoff asked the bandaged maid whether the inspector was in. She answered that he was not in.

“Will he return soon?”

The rhapsody again stopped and recommenced loudly and brilliantly again up to the same charmed point.

“I will go and ask,” and the servant went away.

“Tell him he is not in and won’t be today; he is out visiting. What do they come bothering for?” came the sound of a woman’s voice from behind the door, and again the rhapsody rattled on and stopped, and the sound of a chair pushed back was heard. It was plain the irritated pianist meant