site her. The room
was well lighted, and for the first time Nekhludoff clearly saw her
face from a short distance, and noticed wrinkles around the eyes and
lips and a slight swelling under her eyes, and he pitied her even more
than before.

Resting his elbows on the table so that he should not be heard by the
warden, whose face was of a Jewish type, with grayish side-whiskers,
he said:

"If this petition fails we will appeal to His Majesty. Nothing will be
left undone."

"If it had been done before--if I had had a good lawyer"--she
interrupted him. "That lawyer of mine was such a little fool. He was
only making me compliments," she said, and began to laugh. "If they
had only known that I was your acquaintance, it would have been
different. 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; he will tell him the whole story.' Menshoff is his
name. Well, will you do it? Such a good little woman. You can see for
yourself that she is not guilty. You will help them, dear, won't you?"
she said, glancing at him; then she lowered her eyes and smiled.

"Very well; I will do it," said Nekhludoff, his surprise at her easy
manner growing, "but I would like to talk to you about my own affair.
Do you remember what I told you that time?"

"You have spoken so much. What did you say that time?" she said,
continuing to smile and turning her head now to one side, now to the
other.

"I said that I came to ask your forgiveness," he said.

"Oh! Forgiveness, forgiveness! That is all nonsense. You had better----"

"That I wish to atone for my sin," continued Nekhludoff, "and to
atone not by words but by deed. I have decided to marry you."

Her face suddenly showed fright. Her squinting eyes became fixed, and
they looked and did not look at him.

"What is that for?" And she frowned maliciously.

"I feel that before God I must do it."

"What God, now, are you talking about? You are not talking