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Updated: May 8, 2025
On this last day spent at the aunts, when the events of the preceding evening were fresh in his memory, two antagonistic feelings struggled in Nekhludoff's soul; one was the burning, sensual recollection of love, although it failed to fulfill its promises, and some satisfaction of having gained his ends; the other, a consciousness of having committed a wrong, and that that wrong must be righted not for her sake, but for his own sake.
They were talking about the price of wool when Nekhludoff approached them and asked if that was the jury's room. "Here, sir, here. Are you also one of the jurymen?" mirthfully winking his eyes, the good-natured merchant asked. "Well, we will drudge together, I suppose," he continued in response to Nekhludoff's affirmative answer.
His eyes opened wide as if in fear, but his position remained unchanged. Streams of dirt trickled down his dusty face, but the mouth continued to gasp in the same regular way, and his whole body shook. "And what's this? Take this one," said the police officer, pointing to Nekhludoff's isvostchik. "You, there, drive up." "I am engaged," said the isvostchik, dismally, and without looking up.
They whose fate was being decided still sat motionless behind the grating in front of the soldiers. Maslova was smiling. Another feeling stirred in Nekhludoff's soul. Up to now, expecting her acquittal and thinking she would remain in the town, he was uncertain how to act towards her. Any kind of relations with her would be so very difficult.
At the stage which Nekhludoff's selfish mania had now reached he could think of nothing but himself. He was wondering whether his conduct, if found out, would be blamed much or at all, but he did not consider what Katusha was now going through, and what was going to happen to her. He saw that Schonbock guessed his relations to her and this flattered his vanity.
"Ah!" said the general, approvingly, closing his eyes. "But how will one recognize another when all have the same light?" he asked, and again crossing his fingers with those of the artist, seated himself at the table. Nekhludoff's driver drove up to the gate. "It is very dull here, sir," he said, turning to Nekhludoff. "It was very tiresome, and I was about to drive away."
With a woman's instinct Maslova very soon found out that he loved her. And the fact that she could awaken love in a man of that kind raised her in her own estimation. It was Nekhludoff's magnanimity and what had been in the past that made him offer to marry her, but Simonson loved her such as she was now, loved her simply because of the love he bore her.
Where's the little scamp got to?" shouted a woman, with a dirty grey blouse, and a frightened look, as she ran out of the house, and, rushing forward, seized the baby before Nekhludoff came up to it, and carried it in, just as if she were afraid that Nekhludoff would hurt her child. This was the woman whose husband was imprisoned for Nekhludoff's birch trees.
I am very glad indeed to have met you," and warmly pressing Nekhludoff's hand, he jumped into the trap and waved his white-gloved hand in front of his shiny face, with his usual smile, showing his exceptionally white teeth. "Can I have also been like that?" Nekhludoff thought, as he continued his way to the advocate's. "Yes, I wished to be like that, though I was not quite like it.
I shall be delighted. I think we have met before," said the president, pressing Nekhludoff's hand and recalling with pleasure the evening when he first met Nekhludoff, and when he had danced so gaily, better than all the young people. "What can I do for you?" "There is a mistake in the answer concerning Maslova.
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