“Very well,” said Nekhludoff, and hastened away.  As on the former occasion, besides pity he was seized with a feeling of doubt and a sort of moral nausea.

“What is all that for?” he asked himself, but found no answer.

CHAPTER LV.

On the following day Nekhludoff drove to the lawyer and told him of the Menshovs’ case, asking him to take up their defense.  The lawyer listened to him attentively, and said that if the facts were really as told to Nekhludoff, he would undertake their defense without compensation.  Nekhludoff also told him of the hundred and thirty men kept in prison through some misunderstanding, and asked him whose fault he thought it was.  The lawyer was silent for a short while, evidently desiring to give an accurate answer.

“Whose fault it is?  No one’s,” he said decisively.  “If you ask the prosecutor, he will tell you that it is Maslenikoff’s fault, and if you ask Maslenikoff, he will tell you that it is the prosecutor’s fault.  It is no one’s fault.”

“I will go to Maslenikoff and tell him.”

“That is useless,” the lawyer retorted, smiling.  “He is—­he is not your friend or relative, is he?  He is such a blockhead, and, saving your presence, at the same time such a sly beast!”

Nekhludoff recalled what Maslenikoff had said about the lawyer, made no answer, and, taking leave, directed his steps toward Maslenikoff’s residence.

Two things Nekhludoff wanted of Maslenikoff.  First, to obtain Maslova’s transfer to the hospital, and to help, if possible, the hundred and thirty unfortunates.  Although it was hard for him to be dealing with this man, and especially to ask favors of him, yet it was the only way of gaining his end, and he had to go through it.

As Nekhludoff approached Maslenikoff’s house, he saw a number of carriages, cabs and traps standing in front of it, and he recalled that this was the reception day to which he had been invited.  While Nekhludoff was approaching the house a carriage was standing near the curb, opposite the door, and a lackey in a cockaded silk hat and cape, was seating a lady, who, raising the long train of her skirt, displayed the sharp joints of her toes through the thin slippers.  Among the carriages he recognized the covered landau of the Korchagins.  The gray-haired, rosy-cheeked driver deferentially raised his hat.  Nekhludoff had scarcely asked the porter where Michael Ivanovich (Maslenikoff) was, when the latter appeared on the carpeted stairway, escorting a very important guest, such as he usually escorted not to the upper landing, but to the vestibule.  This very important military guest, while descending the stairs, was conversing in French about a lottery for the benefit of orphan asylums, giving his opinion that it was a good occupation for ladies.  “They enjoy themselves while they are raising money.”