Shoustova’s mother came in at the door through which her daughter had gone out, and said that Lydia was very much upset, and would not come in again.

“And what has this young life been ruined for?” said the aunt.  “What is especially painful to me is that I am the involuntary cause of it.”

“She will recover in the country, with God’s help,” said the mother.  “We shall send her to her father.”

“Yes, if it were not for you she would have perished altogether,” said the aunt.  “Thank you.  But what I wished to see you for is this:  I wished to ask you to take a letter to Vera Doukhova,” and she got the letter out of her pocket.

“The letter is not closed; you may read and tear it up, or hand it to her, according to how far it coincides with your principles,” she said.  “It contains nothing compromising.”

Nekhludoff took the letter, and, having promised to give it to Vera Doukhova, he took his leave and went away.  He scaled the letter without reading it, meaning to take it to its destination.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE STATE CHURCH AND THE PEOPLE.

The last thing that kept Nekhludoff in Petersburg was the case of the sectarians, whose petition he intended to get his former fellow-officer, Aide-de-camp Bogatyreff, to hand to the Tsar.  He came to Bogatyreff in the morning, and found him about to go out, though still at breakfast.  Bogatyreff was not tall, but firmly built and wonderfully strong (he could bend a horseshoe), a kind, honest, straight, and even liberal man.  In spite of these qualities, he was intimate at Court, and very fond of the Tsar and his family, and by some strange method he managed, while living in that highest circle, to see nothing but the good in it and to take no part in the evil and corruption.  He never condemned anybody nor any measure, and either kept silent or spoke in a bold, loud voice, almost shouting what he had to say, and often laughing in the same boisterous manner.  And he did not do it for diplomatic reasons, but because such was his character.

“Ah, that’s right that you have come.  Would you like some breakfast?  Sit down, the beefsteaks are fine!  I always begin with something substantial—­begin and finish, too.  Ha! ha! ha!  Well, then, have a glass of wine,” he shouted, pointing to a decanter of claret.  “I have been thinking of you.  I will hand on the petition.  I shall put it into his own hands.  You may count on that, only it occurred to me that it would be best for you to call on Toporoff.”

Nekhludoff made a wry face at the mention of Toporoff.

“It all depends on him.  He will be consulted, anyhow.  And perhaps he may himself meet your wishes.”

“If you advise it I shall go.”

“That’s right.  Well, and how does Petersburg agree with you?” shouted Bogatyreff.  “Tell me.  Eh?”

“I feel myself getting hypnotised,” replied Nekhludoff.