Resurrection

"What's that for?" she said, with an angry frown.

"I feel that it is my duty before God to do it."

"What God have you found now? You are not saying what you ought

to. God, indeed! What God? You ought to have remembered God

then," she said, and stopped with her mouth open. It was only now

that Nekhludoff noticed that her breath smelled of spirits, and

that he understood the cause of her excitement.

"Try and be calm," he said.

"Why should I be calm?" she began, quickly, flushing scarlet. "I

am a convict, and you are a gentleman and a prince. There's no

need for you to soil yourself by touching me. You go to your

princesses; my price is a ten-rouble note."

"However cruelly you may speak, you cannot express what I myself

am feeling," he said, trembling all over; "you cannot imagine to

what extent I feel myself guilty towards you."

"Feel yourself guilty?" she said, angrily mimicking him. "You did

not feel so then, but threw me 100 roubles. That's your price."

"I know, I know; but what is to be done now?" said Nekhludoff. "I

have decided not to leave you, and what I have said I shall do."

"And I say you sha'n't," she said, and laughed aloud.

"Katusha," he said, touching her hand.

"You go away. I am a convict and you a prince, and you've no

business here," she cried, pulling away her hand, her whole

appearance transformed by her wrath. "You've got pleasure out of

me in this life, and want to save yourself through me in the life

to come. You are disgusting to me--your spectacles and the whole

of your dirty fat mug. Go, go!" she screamed, starting to her

feet.

The jailer came up to them.

"What are you kicking up this row for?' That won't--"

"Let her alone, please," said Nekhludoff.

"She must not forget herself," said the jailer. "Please wait a

little," said Nekhludoff, and the jailer returned to the window.

Maslova sat down again, dropping her eyes and firmly clasping her

small hands.

Nekhludoff stooped over her, not knowing what to do.

"You do not believe me?" he said.

"That you mean to marry me? It will never be. I'll rather hang

myself. So there!"

"Well, still I shall go on serving you."

"That's your affair, only I don't want anything from you. I am

telling you the plain truth," she said. "Oh, why did I not die

then?" she added, and began to cry piteously.

Nekhludoff could not speak; her tears infected him.

She lifted her eyes, looked at him in surprise, and began to wipe

her tears with her kerchief.

The jailer came up again and reminded them that it was time to

part.