“What can I say?” said Nekhludoff.  “I am glad that she has found such a protector.”

“That is just what I wanted to know,” continued Simonson.  “I wished to know whether you, loving her and seeking her good, could approve of her marrying me?”

“Oh, yes,” Nekhludoff answered, decisively.

“It is all for her; all I wish is that that woman, who had suffered so much, should have some rest,” said Simonson, with a childlike gentleness that no one would expect from a man of such gloomy aspect.

Simonson rose, took Nekhludoff’s hand, smiled bashfully and embraced him.

“Well, I will so tell her,” he said, and left the room.

CHAPTER VII.

“What do you think of him?” said Maria Pablovna.  “In love, and earnestly in love!  I never thought that Vladimir Simonson could fall in love in such a very stupid, childish fashion.  It is remarkable, and to tell the truth, sad,” she concluded, sighing.

“But Katia?  How do you think she will take it?” asked Nekhludoff.

“She?” Maria Pablovna stopped, evidently desiring to give a precise answer.  “She?  You see, notwithstanding her past, she is naturally of a most moral character.  And her feelings are so refined.  She loves you—­very much so—­and is happy to be able to do you the negative good of not binding you to herself.  Marriage with you would be a dreadful fall to her, worse than all her past.  For this reason she would never consent to it.  At the same time, your presence perplexes her.”

“Ought I then to disappear?” asked Nekhludoff.

Maria Pablovna smiled in her pleasant, childish way.

“Yes, partly.”

“How can I partly disappear?”

“I take it back.  But I will tell you that she probably sees the absurdity of that exalted love of his (he has not spoken to her about it), is flattered by it, and fears it.  You know that I am not competent in these matters, but I think that his love is that of the ordinary man, although it is masked.  He says that it rouses his energy and that it is a platonic love; but it has nothing but nastiness for its basis.”

“But what am I to do?” asked Nekhludoff.

“I think it is best that you have a talk with her.  It is always better to make everything clear.  Shall I call her?” said Maria Pablovna.

“If you please,” answered Nekhludoff, and Maria Pablovna went out.

Nekhludoff was seized with a strange feeling when, alone in the small cell, he listened to the quiet breathing of Vera Efremovna, interrupted by an occasional moan, and the constant din coming from the cells of the convicts.