“Very well; finish it,” said the general with austerity, and went, with firm, long strides, into the cabinet.

“Glad to see you,” said the general in a rough voice to Nekhludoff, pointing to an arm-chair near the desk.  “How long have you been in St. Petersburg?”

Nekhludoff said that he had but lately arrived.

“Is your mother, the Princess, well?”

“My mother is dead.”

“Beg pardon; I was very sorry.  My son told me that he had met you.”

The general’s son was making the same career as his father, and was very proud of the business with which he was entrusted.

“Why, I served with your father.  We were friends, comrades.  Are you in service?”

“No, I am not.”

The general disapprovingly shook his head.

“I have a request to make of you, general,” said Nekhludoff.

“Very glad.  What can I do for you?”

“If my request be out of season, please forgive me.  But I must state it.”

“What is it?”

“There is a man, Gurkevitch, kept in prison under your jurisdiction.  His mother asks to be permitted to visit him, or, at least to send him books.”

The general expressed neither satisfaction nor dissatisfaction at Nekhludoff’s request, but, inclining his head to one side, seemed to reflect.  As a matter of fact he was not reflecting; Nekhludoff’s question did not even interest him, knowing very well that his answer would be as the law requires.  He was simply resting mentally without thinking of anything.

“That is not in my discretion, you know,” he said, having rested awhile.  “There is a law relating to visits, and whatever that law permits, that is permitted.  And as to books, there is a library, and they are given such books as are allowed.”

“Yes, but he wants scientific books; he wishes to study.”

“Don’t believe that.”  The general paused.  “It is not for study that they want them, but so, it is simply unrest.”

“But their time must be occupied somehow?”

“They are always complaining,” retorted the general.  “We know them.”

He spoke of them in general as of some peculiar race of people.

“They have such conveniences here as is seldom seen in a prison,” he continued.

And as though justifying himself, he began to recount all the conveniences enjoyed by the prisoners in a manner to make one believe that the chief aim of the institution consisted in making it a pleasant place of abode.

“Formerly, it is true, the regulations were very harsh, but now their condition is excellent.  They get three dishes, one of which is always of meat—­chopped meat or cutlet.  Sundays they get a fourth dish—­dessert.  May God grant that every Russian could feed so well.”

The general, like all old men, evidently having committed to memory the oft-repeated words, proceeded to prove how exacting and ungrateful the prisoners were by repeating what he had told many times before.