Maslenikoff leaned his head to one side and began to reflect.

“She is a political.”

“Yes, I was told so.”

“You know politicals can only be seen by their relatives, but I will give you a general pass.  Je sais que vous n’abuserez pas——­”

“What is the name of this your protege?  Bogodukhovskaia?  Elle est jolie?”

“Hideuse.”

Maslenikoff disapprovingly shook his head, went to the table and on a sheet of paper with a printed letter-head wrote in a bold hand:  “The bearer, Prince Dmitri Ivanovich Nekhludoff, is hereby permitted to visit the prisoners, Maslova and Bogodukhovskaia, now detained in the prison,” and signed his name to it with a broad flourish.

“You will see now what order there is in prison.  And to keep order there is very difficult, because it is overcrowded, especially by those to be transported.  But I watch over them, and like the occupation.  You will see there are very many there, but they are content, and are faring well.  It is necessary to know how to deal with them.  Some unpleasantness occurred there a few days ago—­disobedience.  Another man in my place would have treated it as a riot and made many people miserable, but we arranged it all pleasantly.  What is necessary is solicitude on the one hand, and prompt and vigorous dealing on the other,” he said, clenching his soft, white fist projecting from under a white, starched cuff and adorned with a turquoise ring—­“solicitude and vigorous dealing.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” said Nekhludoff.  “I was there twice, and I was very much distressed by the sight.”

“You know what I will tell you?  You ought to get acquainted with Princess Passek,” continued Maslenikoff, who had become talkative; “she has entirely devoted herself to this cause.  Elle fait beaucoup de bien.  Thanks to her and, without false modesty, to myself, everything has been changed, and changed so that none of the old horrors can be found there, and they are decidedly well off there.  You will see it.  There is Fanarin.  I am not personally acquainted with him; besides, our roads do not meet because of my position in society, but he is decidedly a bad man, and allows himself to state in court such things, such things!”

“Well, thank you,” said Nekhludoff, taking the document, and took leave of his old comrade.

“Would you not like to see my wife?”

“No, thank you; I have no time now.”

“Well, now, she will never forgive me,” said Maslenikoff, conducting his old comrade to the first landing, as he did with people of secondary importance, among whom he reckoned Nekhludoff.  “Do come but for a moment.”

But Nekhludoff was firm, and while the footman and porter sprang toward him, handing him his overcoat and cane, and opening the door, before which a policeman stood, he excused himself, pleading want of time.

“Well, then, Thursday, please.  That is her reception day.  I will tell her!” Maslenikoff shouted from the top of the stairs.