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The wife laughed, shook her head, and also raised the bottle to her lips. Noticing Nekhludoff's and the old man's look directed towards them, the factory worker addressed the former. "What is it, sir? That we are drinking? Ah, no one sees how we work, but every one sees how we drink. I have earned it, and I am drinking and treating my wife, and no one else."
But Timon was so respectful, and at the same time so rigid; he so strictly insisted on himself pouring the water from the pitcher over Nekhludoff's hands, that the latter could not decide to ask him about Katiousha, and only inquired about his grand-children, about the old stallion, about the watch-dog Polkan. They were all well, except Polkan, who had gone mad the previous year.
Only, I understand, there is some love affair come, tell me." Nekhludoff related the story of Maslova, exactly as it happened. "Yes, yes, I remember. Poor Hellen told me at the time you lived at the old maids' house that, I believe, they wished you to marry their ward." Countess Catherine Ivanovna always hated Nekhludoff's aunts on his father's side. "So, that is she? Elle est encore jolie?"
"We are prepared to sacrifice our lives at the wars, and therefore a gay, reckless life is not only pardonable, but absolutely necessary for us, and so we lead it." Such were Nekhludoff's confused thoughts at this period of his existence, and he felt all the time the delight of being free of the moral barriers he had formerly set himself.
Nekhludoff wanted to get through the most difficult part, and therefore immediately added: "I take all expenses on myself, whatever they may be," he said, blushing. "Well, we will arrange all that," said the lawyer, condescendingly smiling at Nekhludoff's inexperience. "What are the facts of the case?" Nekhludoff related them. "Very well; I will examine the record to-morrow.
He felt now as he did once when out game shooting, when he was obliged to kill a wounded bird he was filled with disgust, pity and vexation. The wounded bird is struggling in the game bag; he feels disgust and pity, and wishes to kill it quickly and forget it. Such mingled feelings filled Nekhludoff's breast as he sat listening to the examination of the witnesses.
"I cannot answer it," said the inspector, shrugging his shoulders. "Ah, there is Bogodukhovskaia." The short-haired, lean, yellow-faced Vera Efremovna, with her large, kindly eyes, entered timidly through the rear door. "Well, I thank you for coming here," she said, pressing Nekhludoff's hand. "You remember me? Let us sit down." "I did not expect to find you here."
Katusha looked up with an expression of suspense, and meeting Nekhludoff's eyes, she blushed and shook her head. "What I want to speak to you about is this," Simonson began, when they had come out into the passage. In the passage the din of the criminal's voices and shouts sounded louder. Nekhludoff made a face, but Simonson did not seem to take any notice.
The young lovers rose, and, holding each other's hands, looked silently into one another's eyes. "These are the only two who are merry," said a young man with a short coat who stood by Nekhludoff's side, also looking at those who were about to part, and pointed to the lovers.
"Let me see it," said the inspector, without looking in Nekhludoff's eyes, and taking the document with his skinny, long, white hand, on the index finger of which there was a gold ring, he slowly read it. "Walk into the office, please," he said. On this occasion there was no one in the office.
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