On the way to the Law Courts, passing along the same streets with the same isvostchik as the day before, he was surprised what a different being he felt himself to be.  The marriage with Missy, which only yesterday seemed so probable, appeared quite impossible now.  The day before he felt it was for him to choose, and had no doubts that she would be happy to marry him; to-day he felt himself unworthy not only of marrying, but even of being intimate with her.  “If she only knew what I am, nothing would induce her to receive me.  And only yesterday I was finding fault with her because she flirted with N—–.  Anyhow, even if she consented to marry me, could I be, I won’t say happy, but at peace, knowing that the other was here in prison, and would to-day or to-morrow he taken to Siberia with a gang of other prisoners, while I accepted congratulations and made calls with my young wife; or while I count the votes at the meetings, for and against the motion brought forward by the rural inspection, etc., together with the Marechal de Noblesse, whom I abominably deceive, and afterwards make appointments with his wife (how abominable!) or while I continue to work at my picture, which will certainly never get finished?  Besides, I have no business to waste time on such things.  I can do nothing of the kind now,” he continued to himself, rejoicing at the change he felt within himself.  “The first thing now is to see the advocate and find out his decision, and then . . . then go and see her and tell her everything.”

And when he pictured to himself how he would see her, and tell her all, confess his sin to her, and tell her that he would do all in his power to atone for his sin, he was touched at his own goodness, and the tears came to his eyes.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE ABSURDITY OF LAW—­REFLECTIONS OF A JURYMAN.

On coming into the Law Courts Nekhludoff met the usher of yesterday, who to-day seemed to him much to be pitied, in the corridor, and asked him where those prisoners who had been sentenced were kept, and to whom one had to apply for permission to visit them.  The usher told him that the condemned prisoners were kept in different places, and that, until they received their sentence in its final form, the permission to visit them depended on the president.  “I’ll come and call you myself, and take you to the president after the session.  The president is not even here at present.  After the session!  And now please come in; we are going to commence.”

Nekhludoff thanked the usher for his kindness, and went into the jurymen’s room.  As he was approaching the room, the other jurymen were just leaving it to go into the court.  The merchant had again partaken of a little refreshment, and was as merry as the day before, and greeted Nekhludoff like an old friend.  And to-day Peter Gerasimovitch did not arouse any unpleasant feelings in Nekhludoff by his familiarity and his loud laughter.  Nekhludoff would have liked to tell all the jurymen about his relations to yesterday’s prisoner.  “By rights,” he thought, “I ought to have got up yesterday during the trial and disclosed my guilt.”