The general, like all old men, evidently having committed to memory the oft-repeated words, proceeded to prove how exacting and ungrateful the prisoners were by repeating what he had told many times before.

"They are furnished books on spiritual topics, also old journals. We have a library of suitable books, but they seldom read them. At first they appear to be interested, and then it is found that the pages of all the new books are barely half cut, and of the old ones there is no evidence of any thumb-marks at all. We even tried," with a remote semblance of a smile the general continued, "to put a piece of paper between the pages, and it remained untouched. Writing, too, is allowed. A slate is given them, also a slate-pencil, so that they may write for diversion. They can wipe it out and write again. And yet they don't write. No, they become quiet very soon. At first they are uneasy, but afterward they even grow stout and become very quiet."

Nekhludoff listened to the hoa.r.s.e, feeble voice; looked on that fleshless body, those faded eyes under the gray eyebrows, those sunken, shaved cheeks, supported by a military collar, that white cross, and understood that to argue and explain to him the meaning of those words were futile. But, making another effort, he asked him about the prisoner, Shustova, whose release, he had received information, had been ordered, through the efforts of Mariette.

"Shustova? Shustova--I don't remember them all by name. There are so many of them," he said, evidently reproving them for being so numerous. He rang the bell and called for the secretary.

While a servant was going after the secretary he admonished Nekhludoff to go into service, saying that the country was in need of honest, n.o.ble men.

"I am old, and yet I am serving to the extent of my ability."

The secretary came and reported that there were no papers received relating to Shustova, who was still in prison.

"As soon as we receive an order we release them the very same day. We do not keep them; we do not particularly value their presence," said the general, again with a waggish smile, which had the effect only of making his face wry.

"Good-by, my dear," he continued. "Don't be offended for advising you, for I do so only because I love you. Have nothing to do with the prisoners. You will never find innocent people among them. They are the most immoral set. We know them," he said, in a tone of voice which did not permit the possibility of doubt. "You had better take an office. The Emperor and the country need honest people. What if I and such as you refused to serve? Who would be left? We are complaining of conditions, but refuse to aid the government."

Nekhludoff sighed deeply, made a low bow, pressed the bony hand condescendingly extended, and departed.

The general disapprovingly shook his head, and, rubbing his loins, went to the reception-room, where the artist awaited him with the answer of Jeanne D'Arc. The general put on his pince-nez and read: "They will recognize each other by the light issuing from the ethereal bodies."

"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."

"Yes, tiresome," a.s.sented Nekhludoff with a deep sigh, resting his eyes on the clouds and the Neva, dotted with variegated boats and steamers.

CHAPTER XI.

With a note from Prince Ivan Michaelovitch, Nekhludoff went to Senator Wolf--un homme tres comme il faut, as the Prince had described him.

Wolf had just breakfasted and, as usual, was smoking a cigar, to aid his digestion, when Nekhludoff arrived. Vladimir Vasilievitch Wolf was really un homme tres comme il faut, and this quality he placed above all else; from the height of it he looked upon all other people, and could not help valuing this quality, because, thanks to it, he had gained a brilliant career--the same career he strove for; that is to say, through marriage he obtained a fortune, which brought him a yearly income of eighteen thousand rubles, and by his own efforts he obtained a senatorship. He considered himself not only un homme tres comme il faut, but a man of chivalric honesty. By honesty he understood the refusal to take bribes from private people. But to do everything in his power to obtain all sorts of traveling expenses, rents and disburs.e.m.e.nts he did not consider dishonest. Nor did he consider it dishonest to rob his wife and sister-in-law of their fortunes. On the contrary, he considered that a wise arrangement of his family affairs.

The home circle of Vladimir Vasilievitch consisted of his characterless wife, her sister, whose fortune he managed to get into his own hands by selling her property and depositing the money in his own name, and his gentle, scared, homely daughter, who was leading a solitary, hard life, and whose only diversion consisted in visiting the religious meetings at Aline's and Countess Catherine Ivanovna's.

The son of Vladimir Vasilievitch, a good-natured, bearded boy of fifteen, who at that age had already commenced to drink and lead a depraved life which lasted till he was twenty years old, was driven from the house for the reason that he did not pa.s.s examinations in any school, and keeping bad company, and, running into debt, he had compromised his father. The father paid once for his son two hundred and thirty rubles, and paid six hundred rubles a second time, but declared that that was the last time, and if the son did not reform he would drive him from the house and have nothing to do with him. Not only did the son not reform, but contracted another debt of a thousand rubles, and told his father that he did not care if he was driven from the house, since life at home was torture to him. Then Vladimir Vasilievitch told his son that he could go where he pleased; that he was no longer his son. Since then no one in the house dared to speak of his son to him. And Vladimir Vasilievitch was quite certain that he had arranged his family affairs in the best possible manner.

Wolf, with a flattering and somewhat derisive smile--it was an involuntary expression of his consciousness of his comme il faut superiority--halted in his exercise long enough to greet Nekhludoff and read the note.

"Please take a seat, but you must excuse me. If you have no objection I will walk," he said, putting his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and treading lightly up and down the diagonal of the large cabinet, furnished in an austere style. "Very glad to make your acquaintance, and, of course, to please the Count Ivan Michaelovitch,"

emitting the fragrant, blue smoke, and carefully removing the cigar from his mouth so as not to lose the ashes.

"I would like to ask you to hasten the hearing of the appeal, because if the prisoner is to go to Siberia, it would be desirable that she go as soon as possible," said Nekhludoff.

"Yes, yes, with the first steamer from Nijhni; I know," said Wolf, with his condescending smile, who always knew everything in advance, whatever the subject mentioned to him. "What is the name of the prisoner?"

"Maslova."

Wolf walked to the table and looked into the papers.

"That's right--Maslova. Very well; I will ask my a.s.sociates. We will hear the case Wednesday."

"May I wire my lawyer?"

"So you have a lawyer? What for? But if you wish it, all right."

"The grounds of appeal may be insufficient," said Nekhludoff, "but I think it may be seen from the case that the sentence was the result of a misunderstanding."

"Yes, yes; that may be so, but the Senate cannot enter into the merits of the case," said Vladimir Vasilievitch, sternly, glancing at the ashes of his cigar. "The Senate only looks after the proper interpretation and application of the law."

"This, I think, is an exceptional case."

"I know; I know. All cases are exceptional. We will do what the law requires. That is all." The ashes were still intact, but had already cracked and were in danger of collapse. "And do you often visit St.

Petersburg?" asked Wolf, holding the cigar so that the ashes would not fall. The ashes were unstable, however, and Wolf carefully carried them to the ash-holder, into which they were finally precipitated.

"What an awful catastrophe Kamensky met with," said Wolf. "A fine young man, and an only son. Especially the condition of the mother"--he went on repeating almost word for word the story of a duel of which all St. Petersburg was talking at the time. After a few more words about Countess Catherine Ivanovna and her pa.s.sion for the new religious tendency which Vladimir Vasilievitch neither praised nor condemned, but which, for un homme tres comme il faut, was evidently superfluous, he rang the bell.

Nekhludoff bowed himself out.

"If it is convenient for you, come to dinner," said Wolf, extending his hand, "say on Wednesday. I will then give you a definite answer."

It was already late, and Nekhludoff drove home, that is, to his aunt's.

CHAPTER XII.

Maslova's case was to be heard the following day, and Nekhludoff went to the Senate. He met Fanirin at the entrance to the magnificent Senate building, where several carriages were already waiting. Walking up the grand, solemn staircase to the second floor, the lawyer, who was familiar with all the pa.s.sages, turned into a room to the left, on the door of which was carved the year of the inst.i.tution of the Code.

The lawyer removed his overcoat, remaining in his dress-coat and black tie on a white bosom, and with cheerful self-confidence walked into the next room. There were about fifteen spectators present, among whom were a young woman in a pince-nez, and a gray-haired lady. A gray-haired old man of patriarchal mien, wearing a box-coat and gray trousers, and attended by two men, attracted particular attention. He crossed the room and entered a wardrobe.

An usher, a handsome man with red cheeks and in a pompous uniform, approached Fanirin with a piece of paper in his hand and asked him in what case he appeared. Being told that in Maslova's case, the usher made a note of something and went away. At that time the door of the wardrobe opened and the patriarchal looking old man came forth, no longer in the coat, but in a brilliant uniform which made him resemble a bird. His uniform evidently embarra.s.sed the old man, and he walked into the room opposite the entrance with quicker than his ordinary step.

Fanirin pointed him out to Nekhludoff as Be, "a most honorable gentleman." The spectators, including Fanirin, went into the next room and seated themselves behind the grating on benches reserved for spectators. Only the St. Petersburg lawyer took a seat behind a desk on the other side of the grating.

The session room of the Senate was smaller than the room of the Circuit Court, was furnished in simpler style, only the table behind which the Senators sat was of crimson plush instead of green cloth, bordered with gold lace.

There were four Senators. The President, Nikitin, with a closely shaved, narrow face and steel-gray eyes; Wolf, with thin lips and small white hands, with which he was turning over the papers before him; then Skovorodnikoff, stout, ma.s.sive and pock-marked, and a very learned jurist, and finally, Be, the same partriarchal old man, who was the last to arrive. Immediately behind the Senators came the Chief Secretary and a.s.sociate Attorney General. He was a young man of medium height, shaved, lean, with a very dark face and black, sad eyes.

Nekhludoff recognized him, notwithstanding his strange uniform and the fact that he had not seen him for about six years, as one of his best friends during his student life.