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Updated: May 24, 2025
"Might I not meanwhile see the prisoners Menshoff, mother and son, who are accused of incendiarism?" "Oh, yes. Cell No. 21. Yes, they can be sent for." "But might I not see Menshoff in his cell?" "Oh, you'll find the waiting-room more pleasant." "No. I should prefer the cell. It is more interesting." "Well, you have found something to be interested in!"
The sufferings of the evidently innocent Menshoff seemed terrible, and not so much his physical suffering as the perplexity, the distrust in the good and in God which he must feel, seeing the cruelty of the people who tormented him without any reason.
She learned, you know, that I am acquainted with you," said Maslova, turning her head and casting glances at him, "and she says to me: 'Tell him, she says, 'to call my son; he will tell him the whole story. Menshoff is his name. Well, will you do it? Such a good little woman. You can see for yourself that she is not guilty.
"Yes, I was told about you," Nekhludoff said, going through the cell up to the dirty grated window, "and I should like to hear all about it from yourself." Menshoff also came up to the window, and at once started telling his story, at first looking shyly at the inspector's assistant, but growing gradually bolder.
"Where is Menshoff?" asked the inspector's assistant. "The eighth cell to the left." "And these? Are they occupied?" asked Nekhludoff. "Yes, all but one." "May I look in?" asked Nekhludoff. "Oh, certainly," answered the assistant, smiling, and turned to the jailer with some question. Nekhludoff looked into one of the little holes, and saw a tall young man pacing up and down the cell.
D'you know, hearing I was acquainted with you, she says: 'Tell him to ask to see my son; he'll tell him all about it." Thus spoke Maslova, turning her head from side to side, and glancing at Nekhludoff. "Their name's Menshoff. Well, will you do it? Such a fine old thing, you know; you can see at once she's innocent.
"I shall do my utmost to get your our case, I mean, reconsidered, and by the help of God the sentence may be revoked." "And if it is not revoked, never mind. I have deserved it, if not in this case, in other ways," she said, and he saw how difficult it was for her to keep down her tears. "Well, have you seen Menshoff?" she suddenly asked, to hide her emotion.
We will consult a good lawyer, and will do what we can," said Nekhludoff, and went out. Menshoff stood close to the door, so that the jailer knocked him in shutting it, and while the jailer was locking it he remained looking out through the little hole. In one of the corridors, some one ran, clattering with his shoes, in at the door of a cell.
Nekhludoff looked at her miserable little neck, her thin, unkempt hair, and wondered why she had been doing all these strange things, and why she was now telling all this to him. He pitied her, but not as he had pitied Menshoff, the peasant, kept for no fault of his own in the stinking prison. She was pitiable because of the confusion that filled her mind.
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