“Now, in a moment it will be decided,” he thought.

“How shall I call her?  Or will she come herself?”

She was expecting Bertha; that this man had come to see her never entered her head.

“Whom do you want?” said the warder who was walking between the nets, coming up to Nekhludoff.

“Katerina Maslova,” Nekhludoff uttered, with difficulty.

“Katerina Maslova, some one to see you,” cried the warder.

CHAPTER XLIII.

NEKHLUDOFF VISITS MASLOVA.

Maslova looked round, and with head thrown back and expanded chest, came up to the net with that expression of readiness which he well knew, pushed in between two prisoners, and gazed at Nekhludoff with a surprised and questioning look.  But, concluding from his clothing he was a rich man, she smiled.

“Is it me you want?” she asked, bringing her smiling face, with the slightly squinting eyes, nearer the net.

“I, I—­I wished to see—­” Nekhludoff did not know how to address her.  “I wished to see you—­I—­” He was not speaking louder than usual.

“No; nonsense, I tell you!” shouted the tramp who stood next to him.  “Have you taken it or not?”

“Dying, I tell you; what more do you want?” some one else was screaming at his other side.  Maslova could not hear what Nekhludoff was saying, but the expression of his face as he was speaking reminded her of him.  She did not believe her own eyes; still the smile vanished from her face and a deep line of suffering appeared on her brow.

“I cannot hear what you are saying,” she called out, wrinkling her brow and frowning more and more.

“I have come,” said Nekhludoff.  “Yes, I am doing my duty—­I am confessing,” thought Nekhludoff; and at this thought the tears came in his eyes, and he felt a choking sensation in his throat, and holding on with both hands to the net, he made efforts to keep from bursting into tears.

“I say, why do you shove yourself in where you’re not wanted?” some one shouted at one side of him.

“God is my witness; I know nothing,” screamed a prisoner from the other side.

Noticing his excitement, Maslova recognised him.

“You’re like . . . but no; I don’t know you,” she shouted, without looking at him, and blushing, while her face grew still more stern.

“I have come to ask you to forgive me,” he said, in a loud but monotonous voice, like a lesson learnt by heart.  Having said these words he became confused; but immediately came the thought that, if he felt ashamed, it was all the better; he had to bear this shame, and he continued in a loud voice: 

“Forgive me; I have wronged you terribly.”

She stood motionless and without taking her squinting eyes off him.

He could not continue to speak, and stepping away from the net he tried to suppress the sobs that were choking him.