Nekhludoff’s request to be allowed to see the dying man the General answered by saying, “Neither can I do that.  Of course I do not suspect you, but you take an interest in him and in the others, and you have money, and here with us anything can be done with money.  I have been told to put down bribery.  But how can I put down bribery when everybody takes bribes?  And the lower their rank the more ready they are to be bribed.  How can one find it out across more than three thousand miles?  There any official is a little Tsar, just as I am here,” and he laughed.  “You have in all likelihood been to see the political prisoners; you gave money and got permission to see them,” he said, with a smile.  “Is it not so?”

“Yes, it is.”

“I quite understand that you had to do it.  You pity a political prisoner and wish to see him.  And the inspector or the convoy soldier accepts, because he has a salary of twice twenty copecks and a family, and he can’t help accepting it.  In his place and yours I should have acted in the same way as you and he did.  But in my position I do not permit myself to swerve an inch from the letter of the law, just because I am a man, and might be influenced by pity.  But I am a member of the executive, and I have been placed in a position of trust on certain conditions, and these conditions I must carry out.  Well, so this business is finished.  And now let us hear what is going on in the metropolis.”  And the General began questioning with the evident desire to hear the news and to show how very human he was.

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE SENTENCE COMMUTED.

“By-the-way, where are you staying?” asked the General as he was taking leave of Nekhludoff.  “At Duke’s?  Well, it’s horrid enough there.  Come and dine with us at five o’clock.  You speak English?”

“Yes, I do.”

“That’s good.  You see, an English traveller has just arrived here.  He is studying the question of transportation and examining the prisons of Siberia.  Well, he is dining with us to-night, and you come and meet him.  We dine at five, and my wife expects punctuality.  Then I shall also give you an answer what to do about that woman, and perhaps it may be possible to leave some one behind with the sick prisoner.”

Having made his bow to the General, Nekhludoff drove to the post-office, feeling himself in an extremely animated and energetic frame of mind.

The post-office was a low-vaulted room.  Several officials sat behind a counter serving the people, of whom there was quite a crowd.  One official sat with his head bent to one side and kept stamping the envelopes, which he slipped dexterously under the stamp.  Nekhludoff had not long to wait.  As soon as he had given his name, everything that had come for him by post was at once handed to him.  There was a good deal:  letters, and money, and books, and the last number of Fatherland Notes.