"Then why did the president not do it?"
"I, too, should like to know why," Fanarin said, laughing.
"Then the Senate will, of course, correct this error?"
"That will all depend on who will preside there at the time.
Well, now, there it is. I have further said," he continued,
rapidly, "a verdict of this kind gave the Court no right to
condemn Maslova to be punished as a criminal, and to apply
section 3, statute 771 of the penal code to her case. This is a
decided and gross violation of the basic principles of our
criminal law. In view of the reasons stated, I have the honour of
appealing to you, etc., etc., the refutation, according to 909,
910, and section 2, 912 and 928 statute of the criminal code,
etc., etc. . . . to carry this case before another department of
the same Court for a further examination. There; all that can be
done is done, but, to be frank, I have little hope of success,
though, of course, it all depends on what members will be present
at the Senate. If you have any influence there you can but try."
"I do know some."
"All right; only be quick about it. Else they'll all go off for a
change of air; then you may have to wait three months before they
return. Then, in case of failure, we have still the possibility
of appealing to His Majesty. This, too, depends on the private
influence you can bring to work. In this case, too, I am at your
service; I mean as to the working of the petition, not the
influence."
"Thank you. Now as to your fees?"
"My assistant will hand you the petition and tell you."
"One thing more. The Procureur gave me a pass for visiting this
person in prison, but they tell me I must also get a permission
from the governor in order to get an interview at another time
and in another place than those appointed. Is this necessary?"
"Yes, I think so. But the governor is away at present; a
vice-governor is in his place. And he is such an impenetrable
fool that you'll scarcely be able to do anything with him."
"Is it Meslennikoff?"
"Yes."
"I know him," said Nekhludoff, and got up to go. At this moment a
horribly ugly, little, bony, snub-nosed, yellow-faced woman flew
into the room. It was the advocate's wife, who did not seem to be
in the least bit troubled by her ugliness. She was attired in the
most original manner; she seemed enveloped in something made of
velvet and silk, something yellow and green, and her thin hair
was crimped.
She stepped out triumphantly into the ante-room, followed by a
tall, smiling man, with a greenish complexion, dressed in a coat
with silk facings, and a white tie. This was an author.
Nekhludoff knew him by sight.