Count Pavel Nekhludoff

“ Nekhludoff thought to himself as he came out of the cell, while a hundred eyes were fixed upon him through the openings of the cell doors and from the prisoners that met him, making him feel as if he were running the gauntlet.
“Is it really possible that perfectly innocent people are kept here?” Nekhludoff uttered when they left the corridor.
“What would you have us do? They lie so. To hear them talk they are all of them innocent,” said the inspector’s assistant. “But it does happen that some are really imprisoned for nothing.” ”

“ He left the house in the morning, hired two modest and not over-clean furnished rooms near the prison, and went to his lawyer.
After the storms and rains came those cold, piercing winds that usually occur in the fall. Protected only by a light overcoat, Nekhludoff was chilled to the bone. He walked quickly in order to warm himself.
The village scenes came to his mind—­the women, children and old men, whose poverty and exhaustion he had noticed as if for the first time, especially that oldish child which twisted its little calfless legs—­and he involuntarily compared them with the city folks. ”

“ Why, we have more than 2,000 persons here. And what persons! One must know how to manage them. It is easier said than done, you know. After all, they are also men; one cannot help pitying them.” The inspector began telling Nekhludoff of a fight that had lately taken place among the convicts, which had ended by one man being killed.
The story was interrupted by the entrance of Maslova, who was accompanied by a jailer.
Nekhludoff saw her through the doorway before she had noticed the inspector. She was following the warder briskly, smiling and tossing her head. ”

“ Nekhludoff listened, and at the same time kept looking around him—at the low bedstead with its straw mattress, the window and the dirty, damp wall, and the piteous face and form of this unfortunate, disfigured peasant in his prison cloak and shoes, and he felt sadder and sadder, and would have liked not to believe what this good-natured fellow was saying. It seemed too dreadful to think that men could do such a thing as to take a man, dress him in convict clothes, and put him in this horrible place without any reason only because he himself had been injured. ”

“ At first they seem restless, but later on they even grow fat and become very quiet.” Thus spoke the General, never suspecting the terrible meaning of his words.
Nekhludoff listened to the hoarse old voice, looked at the stiff limbs, the swollen eyelids under the grey brows, at the old, clean-shaved, flabby jaw, supported by the collar of the military uniform, at the white cross that this man was so proud of, chiefly because he had gained it by exceptionally cruel and extensive slaughter, and knew that it was useless to reply to the old man or to explain the meaning of his own words to him. ”

“ Fearing lest Nekhludoff should demand something unlawful, and wishing to show that he made no exceptions for any one, he pretended to be cross. “There are no women here; it is the children’s ward,” he said.
“Yes, I know; but a prisoner has been removed here to be an assistant nurse.”
“Yes, there are two such here. Then whom do you want?”
“I am closely connected with one of them, named Maslova,” Nekhludoff answered, “and should like to speak to her. I am going to Petersburg to hand in an appeal to the Senate about her case and should like to give her this. ”

“ It is so delightful, so delightful, that I desire nothing better," said Vera Doukhova, with the usual expression of fright in the large, kind, round eyes fixed on Nekhludoff, and twisting the terribly thin, sinewy neck, surrounded by the shabby, crumpled, dirty collar of her bodice. Nekhludoff asked her how she came to be in prison. ”

“ The advocate promised to look into the case, and if it turned out to be as Nekhludoff said he would in all probability undertake the defence free of charge. Then Nekhludoff told him of the 130 men who were kept in prison owing to a mistake. “On whom did it depend? Whose fault was it?”
The advocate was silent for a moment, evidently anxious to give a correct reply.
“Whose fault is it? No one’s,” he said, decidedly. “Ask the Procureur, he’ll say it is the Governor’s; ask the Governor, he’ll say it is the Procureur’s fault. No one is in fault.” ”

“ Nekhludoff did as he was asked.
"And this I cannot do either," said the general, concerning his request to see the patient. "Of course I don't suspect you, but you are interested in them and in others. You have money, and the people here are corrupt. How, then, is it possible for me to watch a person who is five thousand miles distant from me? There he is king, as I am here," and he began to laugh. "You have surely seen the political prisoners. You have surely given them money," he added, smiling. ”

“ The boy was now being tried as a dangerous creature from whom it was necessary to protect society.
“As dangerous a creature as the prisoner of yesterday,” Nekhludoff thought while watching the proceedings. “They are dangerous, but are we not dangerous? I am a libertine, an impostor; and all of us, all those that know me as I am, not only do not detest but respect me.”
It is evident that this boy is no villain, but a very ordinary person—­every one sees that—­and that he became what he is only because he lived amid conditions that beget such people. ”

“ But when, to the usual depraving influence of military service with its honours, uniforms, flags, its permitted violence and murder, there is added the depraving influence of riches and nearness to and intercourse with members of the Imperial family, as is the case in the chosen regiment of the Guards in which all the officers are rich and of good family, then this depraving influence creates in the men who succumb to it a perfect mania of selfishness. And this mania of selfishness attacked Nekhludoff from the moment he entered the army and began living in the way his companions lived. ”

“ When Kartinkin and Bochkova left the court-room she was still standing and crying, so that the gendarme had to touch the sleeve of her coat.
"She cannot be left to her fate," said Nekhludoff to himself, entirely forgetting his evil thoughts, and, without knowing why, he ran into the corridor to look at her again. He was detained at the door for a few minutes by the jostling, animated crowd of jurors and lawyers, who were glad that the case was over, so that when he reached the corridor Maslova was some distance away. ”

“ Nekhludoff, with his passionate nature, gave himself thoroughly to the new way of life so approved of by all those around, and he entirely stifled the inner voice which demanded something different. This began after he moved to St. Petersburg, and reached its highest point when he entered the army.
Military life in general depraves men. It places them in conditions of complete idleness, i.e., absence of all useful work; frees them of their common human duties, which it replaces by merely conventional ones to the honour of the regiment, the uniform, the flag ”

“ They think that everybody is a thief."
"How strange she is to-day," thought Nekhludoff, and was about to tell her what he had on his mind when she again began to speak.
"I wanted to tell you. There is an old woman here—we are even surprised—such a good little woman, but there she is—she and her son, both in prison, and everybody knows that they are innocent. They are accused of setting fire, so they are in prison. 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 ”

“ Every one for himself. God knows whom to execute, whom to forgive, and we do not know," said the old man. "Every man be his own chief, then the chiefs will not be wanted. Go, go!" he added, angrily frowning and looking with glittering eyes at Nekhludoff, who lingered in the cell. "Hast thou not looked on long enough how the servants of Antichrist feed lice on men? Go, go!"
When Nekhludoff went out he saw the Englishman standing by the open door of an empty cell with the inspector, asking what the cell was for. ”

“ These two black eyes now looking at him reminded him of this weird, black something. “She has recognised me,” he thought, and Nekhludoff shrank as if expecting a blow. But she had not recognised him. She sighed quietly and again looked at the president. Nekhludoff also sighed. “Oh, if it would only get on quicker,” he thought.
He now felt the same loathing and pity and vexation as when, out shooting, he was obliged to kill a wounded bird. The wounded bird struggles in the game bag. One is disgusted and yet feels pity, and one is in a hurry to kill the bird and forget it. ”

“ He was awakened by a servant in dress-coat holding a napkin in his hand.
"Mister, mister, are you not Prince Nekhludoff? A lady is looking for you."
Nekhludoff quickly raised himself, rubbing his eyes, and the incidents of the morning passed before his mind's eye—the procession of the convicts, the men who had died from the heat, the grated windows of the cars, and the women huddled behind them, one of whom was laboring in child-birth without aid, and another piteously smiling to him from behind the iron grating. ”

“ It is against the regulations to approach the gang,” shouted the sergeant as he came up.
But when he recognised Nekhludoff (every one in the prison knew Nekhludoff) the sergeant raised his fingers to his cap, and, stopping in front of Nekhludoff, said: “Not now; wait till we get to the railway station; here it is not allowed. Don’t lag behind; march!” he shouted to the convicts, and putting on a brisk air, he ran back to his place at a trot, in spite of the heat and the elegant new boots on his feet.
Nekhludoff went on to the pavement and told the isvostchik to follow him ”

“ With the advocates entered the chief secretary and public prosecutor, a lean, clean-shaven young man of medium height, a very dark complexion, and sad, black eyes. Nekhludoff knew him at once, in spite of his curious uniform and the fact that he had not seen him for six years. He had been one of his best friends in Nekhludoff’s student days.
“The public prosecutor Selenin?” Nekhludoff asked, turning to the advocate.
“Yes. Why?”
“I know him well. He is a fine fellow.”
“And a good public prosecutor; business-like. Now he is the man you should have interested.” ”

“ Nekhludoff asked.
“Women are stronger,” said another of the prisoners—a short little woman, and laughed; “only there’s one that has taken it into her head to be delivered. There she goes,” she said, pointing to the next carriage, whence proceeded the groans.
“You ask if we want anything,” said Maslova, trying to keep the smile of joy from her lips; “could not this woman be left behind, suffering as she is? There, now, if you would tell the authorities.”
“Yes, I will.”
“And one thing more; could she not see her husband, Taras?” she added, pointing with her eyes to the smiling Theodosia. ”

“ If it is carrying on with the medical assistant, let her carry on with the medical assistant; that is her business. I must do what my conscience demands of me. And my conscience expects me to sacrifice my freedom. My resolution to marry her, if only in form, and to follow wherever she may be sent, remains unalterable.” Nekhludoff said all this to himself with vicious obstinacy as he left the hospital and walked with resolute steps towards the big gates of the prison. He asked the warder on duty at the gate to inform the inspector that he wished to see Maslova. ”

“ Your interests is what you mean!” thought Nekhludoff as he went out. And he ran over in his mind the people in whom is manifested the activity of the institutions that uphold religion and educate the people. He began with the woman punished for the illicit sale of spirits, the boy for theft, the tramp for tramping, the incendiary for setting a house on fire, the banker for fraud, and that unfortunate Lydia Shoustova imprisoned only because they hoped to get such information as they required from her. ”

“ When he saw Nekhludoff he turned to the jailer.
“Fedotoff, have Maslova, cell 5, women’s ward, taken to the office.”
“Will you come this way, please,” he said, turning to Nekhludoff. They ascended a steep staircase and entered a little room with one window, a writing-table, and a few chairs in it. The inspector sat down.
“Mine are heavy, heavy duties,” he remarked, again addressing Nekhludoff, and took out a cigarette.
“You are tired, evidently,” said Nekhludoff.
“Tired of the whole of the service—the duties are very trying. One tries to lighten their lot and only makes it worse ”

“ Nekhludoff said.
“In to the political prisoners? It is against the law.”
“I have been allowed to go in several times. If there is any danger of my passing anything in to them I could do it through her just as well.”
“Oh, no; she would be searched,” said the officer, and laughed in an unpleasant manner.
“Well, why not search me?”
“All right; we’ll manage without that,” said the officer, opening the decanter, and holding it out towards Nekhludoff’s tumbler of tea. “May I? No? Well, just as you like. When you are living here in Siberia you are too glad to meet an educated person. ”

“ During this period, because of Maslova's transfer to the politicals, Nekhludoff became acquainted with many political prisoners. On closer acquaintance he was convinced that they were not all villains, as many people imagined them to be, nor all heroes, as some of them considered the members of their party, but that they were ordinary people, among whom, as in other parties, some were good, some bad, the others indifferent.
He became particularly attached to a consumptive young man who was on his way to a life term at hard labor. ”