Resurrection

The most remarkable of the prisoners, both by her piercing

screams and her appearance, was a thin, dishevelled gipsy. Her

kerchief had slipped off her curly hair, and she stood near a

post in the middle of the prisoner's division, shouting

something, accompanied by quick gestures, to a gipsy man in a

blue coat, girdled tightly below the waist. Next the gipsy man, a

soldier sat on the ground talking to prisoner; next the soldier,

leaning close to the net, stood a young peasant, with a fair

beard and a flushed face, keeping back his tears with difficulty.

A pretty, fair-haired prisoner, with bright blue eyes, was

speaking to him. These two were Theodosia and her husband. Next

to them was a tramp, talking to a broad-faced woman; then two

women, then a man, then again a woman, and in front of each a

prisoner. Maslova was not among them. But some one stood by the

window behind the prisoners, and Nekhludoff knew it was she. His

heart began to beat faster, and his breath stopped. The decisive

moment was approaching. He went up to the part of the net where

he could see the prisoner, and recognised her at once. She stood

behind the blue-eyed Theodosia, and smiled, listening to what

Theodosia was saying. She did not wear the prison cloak now, but

a white dress, tightly drawn in at the waist by a belt, and very

full in the bosom. From under her kerchief appeared the black

ringlets of her fringe, just the same as in the court.

"Now, in a moment it will be decided," he thought.

"How shall I call her? Or will she come herself?"

She was expecting Bertha; that this man had come to see her

never entered her head.

"Whom do you want?" said the warder who was walking between the

nets, coming up to Nekhludoff.

"Katerina Maslova," Nekhludoff uttered, with difficulty.

"Katerina Maslova, some one to see you," cried the warder.