“Won’t you come to see mamma?  She would like to see you,” she said, and knowing that she was saying what was not true, and that he knew it also, she blushed still more.

“I fear I shall scarcely have time,” Nekhludoff said gloomily, trying to appear as if he had not noticed her blush.  Missy frowned angrily, shrugged her shoulders, and turned towards an elegant officer, who grasped the empty cup she was holding, and knocking his sword against the chairs, manfully carried the cup across to another table.

“You must contribute towards the Home fund.”

“I am not refusing, but only wish to keep my bounty fresh for the lottery.  There I shall let it appear in all its glory.”

“Well, look out for yourself,” said a voice, followed by an evidently feigned laugh.

Anna Ignatievna was in raptures; her “at-home” had turned out a brilliant success.  “Micky tells me you are busying yourself with prison work.  I can understand you so well,” she said to Nekhludoff.  “Micky (she meant her fat husband, Maslennikoff) may have other defects, but you know how kind-hearted he is.  All these miserable prisoners are his children.  He does not regard them in any other light. Il est d’une bonte—–­” and she stopped, finding no words to do justice to this bonte of his, and quickly turned to a shrivelled old woman with bows of lilac ribbon all over, who came in just then.

Having said as much as was absolutely necessary, and with as little meaning as conventionality required, Nekhludoff rose and went up to Meslennikoff.  “Can you give me a few minutes’ hearing, please?”

“Oh, yes.  Well, what is it?”

“Let us come in here.”

They entered a small Japanese sitting-room, and sat down by the window.

CHAPTER LVIII.

THE VICE-GOVERNOR SUSPICIOUS.

“Well? Je suis a vous.  Will you smoke?  But wait a bit; we must be careful and not make a mess here,” said Maslennikoff, and brought an ashpan.  “Well?”

“There are two matters I wish to ask you about.”

“Dear me!”

An expression of gloom and dejection came over Maslennikoff’s countenance, and every trace of the excitement, like that of the dog’s whom its master has scratched behind the cars, vanished completely.  The sound of voices reached them from the drawing-room.  A woman’s voice was heard, saying, "Jamais je ne croirais," and a man’s voice from the other side relating something in which the names of la Comtesse Voronzoff and Victor Apraksine kept recurring.  A hum of voices, mixed with laughter, came from another side.  Maslennikoff tried to listen to what was going on in the drawing-room and to what Nekhludoff was saying at the same time.

“I am again come about that same woman,” said Nekhludoff.

“Oh, yes; I know.  The one innocently condemned.”

“I would like to ask that she should be appointed to serve in the prison hospital.  I have been told that this could be arranged.”