“Don’t give me any of your song and dance——­” the tramp beside him shouted.  “Did you take it, or did you not?”

“She is dying; she is very weak,” some one shouted on the other side.

Maslova could not hear Nekhludoff, but the expression of his face, as she spoke, suddenly reminded her of that which she did not wish to think of.  The smile disappeared from her face, and a wrinkle on her brow evidenced her suffering.

“I cannot hear what you are saying,” she shouted, blinking and still more knitting her brows.

“I came——­”

“Yes, I am doing my duty; I am repenting,” thought Nekhludoff, and immediately tears filled his eyes, and he felt a choking sensation in his throat.  His fingers clutched at the net and he made efforts to keep from sobbing.

“I should not have gone if you were well,” came from one side.

“I swear by God I know nothing about it!” cried a prisoner from the other side.

Maslova noticed his agitation, and it communicated itself to her.  Her eyes sparkled, and her puffy, white cheeks became covered with red spots, but her face retained its severity, and her squinting eyes stared past him.

“You are like him, but I don’t know you,” she shouted.

“I came here to ask your forgiveness,” he said in a loud voice, without intonation, as if repeating a lesson he had learned by heart.

As he said these words he felt ashamed and looked round.  But the thought immediately came to his mind that it was well that he was ashamed, for he ought to bear the shame.  And in a loud voice he continued: 

“I acted meanly, infamously—­forgive me.”

She stood motionless, her squinting eyes fixed on him.

He could not continue and left the net, making efforts to stifle the sobbing which was convulsing his breast.

The inspector who directed Nekhludoff to the women’s ward, evidently becoming interested in him, came into the room, and, seeing him in the middle of the passage, asked him why he was not speaking with the prisoner he had inquired about.  Nekhludoff blew his nose, and, endeavoring to assume an air of calmness, said: 

“I can’t speak through the net; nothing can be heard.”

The inspector mused awhile.

“Well, then, she can be brought out for awhile.”

“Maria Karlovna!” he turned to the matron.  “Lead Maslova out.”

CHAPTER XLI.

A moment afterward Maslova came out through a side door.  With gentle step she came up to Nekhludoff; stopped and glanced at him from under her lowered eyebrows.  Her black hair stood out on her forehead in curly ringlets; her unhealthy, bloated, white face was pretty and very calm, only her shining-black, squinting eyes sparkled from under their swollen lashes.

“You may talk here,” said the inspector and went aside.

Nekhludoff moved toward a bench standing beside the wall.