ng sensation in
his throat. His fingers clutched at the net and he made efforts to
keep from sobbing.

"I should not have gone if you were well," came from one side.

"I swear by God I know nothing about it!" cried a prisoner from the
other side.

Maslova noticed his agitation, and it communicated itself to her. Her
eyes sparkled, and her puffy, white cheeks became covered with red
spots, but her face retained its severity, and her squinting eyes
stared past him.

"You are like him, but I don't know you," she shouted.

"I came here to ask your forgiveness," he said in a loud voice,
without intonation, as if repeating a lesson he had learned by heart.

As he said these words he felt ashamed and looked round. But the
thought immediately came to his mind that it was well that he was
ashamed, for he ought to bear the shame. And in a loud voice he
continued:

"I acted meanly, infamously--forgive me."

She stood motionless, her squinting eyes fixed on him.

He could not continue and left the net, making efforts to stifle the
sobbing which was convulsing his breast.

The inspector who directed Nekhludoff to the women's ward, evidently
becoming interested in him, came into the room, and, seeing him in the
middle of the passage, asked him why he was not speaking with the
prisoner he had inquired about. Nekhludoff blew his nose, and,
endeavoring to assume an air of calmness, said:

"I can't speak through the net; nothing can be heard."

The inspector mused awhile.

"Well, then, she can be brought out for awhile."

"Maria Karlovna!" he turned to the matron. "Lead Maslova out."

CHAPTER XLI.

A moment afterward Maslova came out through a side door. With gentle
step she came up to Nekhludoff; stopped and glanced at him from under
her lowered eyebrows. Her black hair stood out on her forehead in
curly ringlets; her unhealthy, bloated, white face was pretty and very
calm, only her shining-black, squinting eyes sparkled from under their
swollen lashes.

"You may talk here," said the inspector and went aside.

Nekhludoff moved toward a bench standing beside the wall.

Maslova glanced inquiringly at the inspector, and shrugging her
shoulders, as if in wonder, followed Nekhludoff to the bench, and
straightening her skirt, sat down beside him.

"I know that it is hard for you to forgive me," began Nekhludoff, but
feeling the tears flooding his eyes, again stopped, "but if the past
cannot be mended, I will