Resurrection
them, for it seemed exaggerated. He gave a rouble to some blind beggars
who came to the gate, gave 15 roubles in tips to the servants, and
when Sophia Ivanovna’s pet dog hurt his paw and it bled, he tore his
hemstitched cambric handkerchief into strips (Sophia Ivanovna knew that
such handkerchiefs cost at least 15 roubles a dozen) and bandaged the
dog’s foot. The old ladies had never met people of this kind, and did
not know that Schonbock owed 200,000 roubles which he was never going to
pay, and that therefore 25 roubles more or less did not matter a bit to
him. Schonbock stayed only one day, and he and Nekhludoff both, left
at night. They could not stay away from their regiment any longer, for
their leave was fully up.
At the stage which Nekhludoff’s selfish mania had now reached he could
think of nothing but himself. He was wondering whether his conduct, if
found out, would be blamed much or at all, but he did not consider what
Katusha was now going through, and what was going to happen to her.
He saw that Schonbock guessed his relations to her and this flattered
his vanity.
“Ah, I see how it is you have taken such a sudden fancy to your aunts
that you have been living nearly a week with them,” Schonbock remarked
when he had seen Katusha. “Well, I don’t wonder--should have done the
same. She’s charming.” Nekhludoff was also thinking that though it was
a pity to go away before having fully gratified the cravings of his
love for her, yet the absolute necessity of parting had its advantages
because it put a sudden stop to relations it would have been very
difficult for him to continue. Then he thought that he ought to give her
some money, not for her, not because she might need it, but because it
was the thing to do.
So he gave her what seemed to him a liberal amount, considering his and
her station. On the day of his departure, after dinner, he went out and
waited for her at the side entrance. She flushed up when she saw him
and wished to pass by, directing his attention to the open door of the
maids’ room by a look, but he stopped her.
“I have come to say good-bye,” he said, crumbling in his hand an
envelope with a 100-rouble note inside. “There, I . . . ”
She guessed what he meant, knit her brows, and shaking her head pushed
his hand away.
“Take it; oh, you must!” he stammered, and thrust the envelope into the
bib of her apron and ran back to his room, groaning and frowning as if
he had hurt himself. And for a long time he went up and down writhing as
in pain, and even stamping and groaning aloud as he thought of this last
scene. “But what else could I have done? Is it not what happens to every
one? And if every one does the same . . . well I suppose it can’t be
helped.” In this way he tried to get peace of mind, but in vain. The
recollection of what had passed burned his conscience. In his soul--in
the very depths of his soul--he knew that he had acted in a base, cruel,
cowardly manner, and that the knowledge of this act of his must prevent
him, not only from finding fault with any one else, but even from
looking straight into other people’s eyes; not to mention the
impossibility of considering himself a splendid, noble, high-minded
fellow, as he did and had to do to go on living his life boldly and
merrily. There was only one solution of the problem--i.e., not to think
about it. He succeeded in doing so. The life he was now entering upon,
the new surroundings, new friends, the war, all helped him to forget.
And the longer he lived, the less he thought about it, until at last he
forgot it completely.
Once only, when, after the war, he went to see his aunts in hopes of
meeting Katusha, and heard that soon after his last visit she had left,
and that his aunts had heard she had been confined somewhere or other
and had gone quite to the bad, his heart ached. According to the time of
her confinement, the child might or might not have been his. His aunts
said she had gone wrong, that she had inherited her mother’s depraved
nature, and he was pleased to hear this opinion of his aunts’. It seemed
to acquit him. At first he thought of trying to find her and her child,
but then, just because in the depths of his soul he felt so ashamed and
pained when thinking about her, he did not make the necessary effort to
find her, but tried to forget his sin again and ceased to think about
it. And now this strange coincidence brought it all back to his memory,
and demanded from him the acknowledgment of the heartless, cruel
cowardice which had made it possible for him to live these nine years
with such a sin on his conscience. But he was still far from such an
acknowledgment, and his only fear was that everything might now be found
out, and that she or her advocate might recount it all and put him to
shame before every one present.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE TRIAL--RESUMPTION.
In this state of mind Nekhludoff left the Court and went into the
jurymen’s room. He sat by the window smoking all the while, and hearing
what was being said around him.
The merry merchant seemed with all his heart to sympathise with
Smelkoff’s way of spending his time. “There, old fellow, that was
something like! Real Siberian fashion! He knew what he was about, no
fear! That’s the sort of wench for me.”
The foreman was stating his conviction, that in some way or other the
expert’s conclusions were the important thing. Peter Gerasimovitch
was joking about something with the Jewish clerk, and they burst out
laughing. Nekhludoff answered all the questions addressed to him in
monosyllables and longed only to be left in peace.
When the usher, with his sideways gait, called the jury back to the
Court, Nekhludoff was seized with fear, as if he were not going to
judge, but to be judged. In the depth of his soul he felt that he was a
scoundrel, who ought to be ashamed to look people in the face, yet,
by sheer force of habit, he stepped on to the platform in his usual
self-possessed manner, and sat down, crossing his legs and playing with
his pince-nez.
The prisoners had also been led out, and were now brought in again.
There were some new faces in the Court witnesses, and Nekhludoff noticed
that Maslova could not take her eyes off a very fat woman who sat in the
row in front of the grating, very showily dressed in silk and velvet, a
high hat with a large bow on her head, and an elegant little reticule on
her arm, which was bare to the elbow. This was, as he subsequently found
out, one of the witnesses, the mistress of the establishment to which
Maslova had belonged.
The examination of the witnesses commenced: they were asked their names,
religion, etc. Then, after some consultation as to whether the witnesses
were to be sworn in or not, the old priest came in again, dragging
his legs with difficulty, and, again arranging the golden cross on his
breast, swore the witnesses and the expert in the same quiet manner,
and with the same assurance that he was doing something useful and
important.
The witnesses having been sworn, all but Kitaeva, the keeper of the
house, were led out again. She was asked what she knew about this
affair. Kitaeva nodded her head and the big hat at every sentence
and smiled affectedly. She gave a very full and intelligent account,
speaking with a strong German accent. First of all, the hotel servant
Simeon, whom she knew, came to her establishment on behalf of a rich
Siberian merchant, and she sent Lubov back with him. After a time
Lubov returned with the merchant. The merchant was already somewhat
intoxicated--she smiled as she said this--and went on drinking and
treating the girls. He was short of money. He sent this same Lubov to
his lodgings. He had taken a “predilection” to her. She looked at the
prisoner as she said this.
Nekhludoff thought he saw Maslova smile here, and this seemed disgusting
to him. A strange, indefinite feeling of loathing, mingled with
suffering, arose in him.
“And what was your opinion of Maslova?” asked the blushing and confused
applicant for a judicial post, appointed to act as Maslova’s advocate.
“Zee ferry pesht,” answered Kitaeva. “Zee yoong voman is etucated and
elecant. She was prought up in a coot family and can reat French. She
tid have a trop too moch sometimes, put nefer forcot herself. A ferry
coot girl.”
Katusha looked at the woman, then suddenly turned her eyes on the jury
and fixed them on Nekhludoff, and her face grew serious and even severe.
One of her serious eyes squinted, and those two strange eyes for some
time gazed at Nekhludoff, who, in spite of the terrors that seized him,
could not take his look off these squinting eyes, with their bright,
clear whites.
He thought of that dreadful night, with its mist, the ice breaking on
the river below, and when the waning moon, with horns turned upwards,
that had risen towards morning, lit up something black and weird. These
two black eyes now looking at him reminded him of this weird, black
something. “She has recognised me,” he thought, and Nekhludoff shrank as
if expecting a blow. But she had not recognised him. She sighed quietly
and again looked at the president. Nekhludoff also sighed. “Oh, if it
would only get on quicker,” he thought.
He now felt the same loathing and pity and vexation as when, out
shooting, he was obliged to kill a wounded bird. The wounded bird
struggles in the game bag. One is disgusted and yet feels pity, and one
is in a hurry to kill the bird and forget it.
Such mixed feelings filled Nekhludoff’s breast as he sat listening to
the examination of the witnesses.
CHAPTER XX.
THE TRIAL--THE MEDICAL REPORT.
But, as if to spite him, the case dragged out to a great length. After
each witness had been examined separately and the expert last of all,
and a great number of useless questions had been put, with the usual
air of importance, by the public prosecutor and by both advocates, the
president invited the jury to examine the objects offered as material
evidence. They consisted of an enormous diamond ring, which had
evidently been worn on the first finger, and a test tube in which the
poison had been analysed. These things had seals and labels attached to
them.
Just as the witnesses were about to look at these things, the public
prosecutor rose and demanded that before they did this the results of
the doctor’s examination of the body should be read. The president, who
was hurrying the business through as fast as he could in order to visit
his Swiss friend, though he knew that the reading of this paper could
have no other effect than that of producing weariness and putting off
the dinner hour, and that the public prosecutor wanted it read simply
because he knew he had a right to demand it, had no option but to
express his consent.
The secretary got out the doctor’s report and again began to read in his
weary lisping voice, making no distinction between the “r’s” and “l’s.”
The external examination proved that:
“1. Theropont Smelkoff’s height was six feet five inches.
“Not so bad, that. A very good size,” whispered the merchant, with
interest, into Nekhludoff’s ear.
“2. He looked about 40 years of age.
“3. The body was of a swollen appearance.
“4. The flesh was of a greenish colour, with dark spots in several
places.
“5. The skin was raised in blisters of different sizes and in places had
come off in large pieces.
“6. The hair was chestnut; it was thick, and separated easily from the
skin when touched.
“7. The eye-balls protruded from their sockets and the cornea had grown
dim.
“8. Out of the nostrils, both ears, and the mouth oozed serous liquid;
the mouth was half open.
“9. The neck had almost disappeared, owing to the swelling of the face
and chest.”
And so on and so on.