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Updated: May 31, 2025
Well, our guessing was no use. The Lord willed otherwise," she went on in musical tones. "Is it possible? Have they sentenced you?" asked Theodosia, with concern, looking at Maslova with her bright blue, child-like eyes; and her merry young face changed as if she were going to cry. Maslova did not answer, but went on to her place, the second from the end, and sat down beside Korableva.
When Nekhludoff, talking to this man, who gave his name as Medyntzev, reached the entrance-hall, the inspector, with weary countenance, approached him. "So, if you wish to see Maslova, then please call to-morrow," he said, evidently desiring to be pleasant. "Very well," said Nekhludoff, and hastened away.
While living in the apartments rented by the author, Maslova became infatuated with a jolly clerk living in the same house. She herself told the author of her infatuation, and moved into a smaller apartment. The clerk, who had promised to marry her, without saying anything, left for Nijhni, evidently casting her off, and Maslova remained alone.
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.
"You asked if anything was needed," said Maslova, endeavoring to restrain a happy smile. "Could not that woman be taken off the train? She suffers so. Won't you tell the authorities?" "Yes, I will." "Another thing could you not get her to see her husband, Tarass?" she added, pointing to the smiling Theodosia. "He is going with you, isn't he?"
The women who had been standing by the window now also came up to Maslova, the convicts who had amused them having gone away. The first to come up were the woman imprisoned for illicit trade in spirits, and her little girl. "Why such a hard sentence?" asked the woman, sitting down by Maslova and knitting fast. "Why so hard? Because there's no money. That's why!
Maslova, in her white jacket and her head uncovered, sat by the opposite window. The white-skinned, smiling Theodosia sat a little nearer. When she recognised Nekhludoff, she nudged Maslova and pointed to the window. Maslova rose hurriedly, threw her kerchief over her black hair, and with a smile on her hot, red face came up to the window and took hold of one of the bars.
"Katerina Maslova," Nekhludoff uttered, with difficulty. "Katerina Maslova, some one to see you," cried the warder. Maslova 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 Nekhludoff with a surprised and questioning look.
Nekhludoff read much, but only by fits and starts, and the want of an answer he ascribed to such superficial reading. He, therefore, refused to believe in the justice of the answer which constantly occurred to him. The deportation of the party of convicts to which Maslova belonged was set for the fifth of July, and Nekhludoff was prepared to follow her on that day.
"Why, no. I could never recognize you. The face is entirely different. That must have been taken about ten years ago." "Not years, but a lifetime," said Maslova, and suddenly her face became sullen and a wrinkle formed between her eyebrows. "Yours was an easy life, wasn't it?" "Yes, easy," Maslova repeated, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "Worse than penal servitude." "Why so?" "Because.
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