way, and, after the last meeting, fear and even disgust
toward her had taken its place. He was also conscious that his duty
was burdensome to him. He had decided not to leave her, to carry out
his intention of marrying her, if she so desired; but this was painful
and tormenting to him.

On the day following his visit to Maslenikoff he again went to the
prison to see her.

The inspector permitted him to see her; not in the office, however,
nor in the lawyer's room, but in the women's visiting-room.
Notwithstanding his kind-heartedness, the inspector was more reserved
than formerly. Evidently Nekhludoff's conversations with Maslenikoff
had resulted in instructions being given to be more careful with this
visitor.

"You may see her," he said, "only please remember what I told you as
to giving her money. And as to her transfer to the hospital, about
which His Excellency has written, there is no objection to it, and the
physician also consented. But she herself does not wish it. 'I don't
care to be chambermaid to that scurvy lot,' she said. That is the kind
of people they are, Prince," he added.

Nekhludoff made no answer and asked to be admitted to her. The
inspector sent the warden, and Nekhludoff followed him into the empty
visiting-room.

Maslova was already there, quietly and timidly emerging from behind
the grating. She approached close to Nekhludoff, and, looking past
him, quietly said:

"Forgive me, Dmitri Ivanovich; I have spoken improperly the other
day."

"It is not for me to forgive you----" Nekhludoff began.

"But you must leave me," she added, and in the fearfully squinting
eyes with which she glanced at him Nekhludoff again saw a strained and
spiteful expression.

[Illustration: EASTER SERVICES.]

"But why should I leave you?"

"So."

"Why so?"

She again looked at him with that spiteful glance, as it seemed to
him.

"Well, then, I will tell you," she said. "You leave me--I tell you
that truly. I cannot. You must drop that entirely," she said, with
quivering lips, and became silent. "That is true. I would rather hang
myself."

Nekhludoff felt that in this answer lurked a hatred for him, an
unforgiven wrong, but also something else--something good and
important. This reiteration of her refusal in a perfectly calm state
destroyed in Nekhludoff's soul all his doubts, and brought him back to
his former grave, solemn and benign state of mind.

"Katiousha, I repeat what I said," he said, wit