“Having learned that you are visiting the prison I thought it would be well to see you.  You can see me by asking the authorities for an interview with me.  I will tell you something very important to your protege as well as to the politicals.  Thankfully, Vera Bogodukhovskaia”

“Bogodukhovskaia!  Who is Bogodukhovskaia?” thought Nekhludoff, entirely absorbed in the impression of his meeting with Maslova, and failing at the first moment to recall either the name or the handwriting.  “Oh, yes!” he suddenly recalled.  “The deacon’s daughter at the bear-hunt.”

Vera Bogodukhovskaia was a teacher in the obscure district of Novgorod, whither Nekhludoff, on one occasion, went bear hunting with his friends.  This teacher had asked Nekhludoff to give her some money to enable her to study.  He gave it to her, and the incident dropped from his memory.  And now it seemed that this lady was a political prisoner, had probably learned his history in prison, and was now offering her services.  At that time everything was easy and simple; now everything was difficult and complex.  Nekhludoff readily and joyfully recalled that time and his acquaintance with Bogodukhovskaia.  It was on the eve of Shrovetide, in the wilds about sixty versts from the railroad.  The hunt was successful; two bears were bagged, and they were dining before their journey home, when the woodsman, in whose hut they were stopping, came to tell them that the deacon’s daughter had come and wished to see Prince Nekhludoff.

“Is she good looking?” some one asked.

“Come, come!” said Nekhludoff, rising, and wondering why the deacon’s daughter should want him, assumed a grave expression and went to the woodsman’s hut.

In the hut there was a girl in a felt hat and short fur coat, sinewy, and with an ugly and unpleasant face, relieved, however, by her pleasant eyes and raised eyebrows.

“This is the Prince, Vera Efremovna,” said the old hostess.  “I will leave you.”

“What can I do for you?” asked Nekhludoff.

“I—­I—­You see, you are rich and throw away your money on trifles, on a chase.  I know,” began the girl, becoming confused, “but I wish but one thing; I wish to be useful to people, and can do nothing because I know nothing.”

“What, then, can I do for you?”

“I am a teacher, and would like to enter college, but they don’t let me.  It is not exactly that they don’t let me, but we have no means.  Let me have some money; when I am through with my studies I shall return it to you.”

Her eyes were truthful and kindly, and the expression of resolution and timidity on her face was so touching that Nekhludoff, as it was usual with him, suddenly mentally placed himself in her position, understood and pitied her.

“I think it is wrong for rich people to kill bears and get the peasants drunk.  Why don’t they make themselves useful?  I only need eighty rubles.  Oh, if you don’t wish to, it is all the same to me,” she said, angrily, interpreting the grave expression on Nekhludoff’s face to her disadvantage.