Maslenikoff’s face became radiant when he saw Nekhludoff.  His face was as fat and red, his dress as excellent as when he served in the army.  As an army officer he was always neat, dressed in a tight uniform made according to the latest style; now his dress fitted his well-fed body as perfectly.  He wore a uniform.  Notwithstanding the difference in their age—­Maslenikoff was about forty—­they familiarly “thoued” each other.

“Very glad you remembered me.  Come to my wife.  I have just ten minutes to spare, and then I must to the session.  My chief, you know, is away.  I am directing the affairs of the district,” he said, with joy which he could not conceal.

“I came to you on business.”

“What’s that?” Maslenikoff said in a frightened and somewhat stern voice, suddenly pricking his ears.

“There is a person in jail in whom I am very much interested;” at the word “jail” Maslenikoff’s face became even more stern, “and I would like to have the right of interview in the office instead of the common reception room, and oftener than on the appointed days.  I was told that it depended on you.”

“Of course, mon cher, I am always ready to do anything for you,” Maslenikoff said, touching his knees with both hands, as if desiring to soften his own greatness.  “I can do it, but you know I am caliph only for an hour.”

“So you can give me a pass that will enable me to see her?”

“It is a woman?”

“Yes.”

“What is the charge against her?”

“Poisoning.  But she was irregularly convicted.”

“Yes, there is justice for you!  Ils n’en font point d’autres,” he said, for some reason in French.  “I know that you do not agree with me, but c’est mon opinion bien arretee,” he added, repeating the opinion that had been reiterated during the past year by a retrograde, conservative newspaper.  “I know you are a liberal.”

“I don’t know whether I am a liberal or something else,” smilingly said Nekhludoff, who always wondered at being joined to some party, or called a liberal only because he held that a man must not be judged without being heard; that all are equal before the law; that it is wrong to torture and beat people generally, especially those that are not convicted.  “I don’t know whether I am a liberal or not, but I do know that our present courts, bad as they are, are nevertheless better than those that preceded them.”

“And what lawyer have you retained?”

“I have retained Fanarin.”

“Ah, Fanarin!” Maslenikoff said, frowning as he recalled how Fanarin, examining him as a witness the year before, in the most polite manner made him the butt of ridicule.

“I would not advise you to have anything to do with him.  Fanarin est un homme tare.”

“I have another request to make of you,” Nekhludoff said, without answering him.  “A long time ago I made the acquaintance of a girl teacher, a very wretched creature.  She is now in jail and desires to see me.  Can you give me a pass to her?”