The next day Nekhludoff went to see the advocate, and spoke to him about the Menshoffs’ case, begging him to undertake their defence.  The advocate promised to look into the case, and if it turned out to be as Nekhludoff said he would in all probability undertake the defence free of charge.  Then Nekhludoff told him of the 130 men who were kept in prison owing to a mistake.  “On whom did it depend?  Whose fault was it?”

The advocate was silent for a moment, evidently anxious to give a correct reply.

“Whose fault is it?  No one’s,” he said, decidedly.  “Ask the Procureur, he’ll say it is the Governor’s; ask the Governor, he’ll say it is the Procureur’s fault.  No one is in fault.”

“I am just going to see the Vice-Governor.  I shall tell him.”

“Oh, that’s quite useless,” said the advocate, with a smile.  “He is such a—­he is not a relation or friend of yours?—­such a blockhead, if I may say so, and yet a crafty animal at the same time.”

Nekhludoff remembered what Maslennikoff had said about the advocate, and did not answer, but took leave and went on to Maslennikoff’s.  He had to ask Maslennikoff two things:  about Maslova’s removal to the prison hospital, and about the 130 passportless men innocently imprisoned.  Though it was very hard to petition a man whom he did not respect, and by whose orders men were flogged, yet it was the only means of gaining his end, and he had to go through with it.

As he drove up to Maslennikoff’s house Nekhludoff saw a number of different carriages by the front door, and remembered that it was Maslennikoff’s wife’s “at-home” day, to which he had been invited.  At the moment Nekhludoff drove up there was a carriage in front of the door, and a footman in livery, with a cockade in his hat, was helping a lady down the doorstep.  She was holding up her train, and showing her thin ankles, black stockings, and slippered feet.  Among the carriages was a closed landau, which he knew to be the Korchagins’.

The grey-haired, red-checked coachman took off his hat and bowed in a respectful yet friendly manner to Nekhludoff, as to a gentleman he knew well.  Nekhludoff had not had time to inquire for Maslennikoff, when the latter appeared on the carpeted stairs, accompanying a very important guest not only to the first landing but to the bottom of the stairs.  This very important visitor, a military man, was speaking in French about a lottery for the benefit of children’s homes that were to be founded in the city, and expressed the opinion that this was a good occupation for the ladies.  “It amuses them, and the money comes.”

"Qu’elles s’amusent et que le bon dieu les benisse.  M. Nekhludoff! How d’you do?  How is it one never sees you?” he greeted Nekhludoff. “Allez presenter vos devoirs a Madame. And the Korchagins are here et Nadine Bukshevden. Toutes les jolies femmes de la ville,” said the important guest, slightly raising his uniformed shoulders as he presented them to his own richly liveried servant to have his military overcoat put on. “Au revoir, mon cher.” And he pressed Maslennikoff’s hand.