Resurrection

Nekhludoff drove that day straight from Maslennikoff's to the

prison, and went to the inspector's lodging, which he now knew.

He was again struck by the sounds of the same piano of inferior

quality; but this time it was not a rhapsody that was being

played, but exercises by Clementi, again with the same vigour,

distinctness, and quickness. The servant with the bandaged eye

said the inspector was in, and showed Nekhludoff to a small

drawing-room, in which there stood a sofa and, in front of it, a

table, with a large lamp, which stood on a piece of crochet work,

and the paper shade of which was burnt on one side. The chief

inspector entered, with his usual sad and weary look.

"Take a seat, please. What is it you want?" he said, buttoning up

the middle button of his uniform.

"I have just been to the vice-governor's, and got this order from

him. I should like to see the prisoner Maslova."

"Markova?" asked the inspector, unable to bear distinctly because

of the music.

"Maslova!"

"Well, yes." The inspector got up and went to the door whence

proceeded Clementi's roulades.

"Mary, can't you stop just a minute?" he said, in a voice that

showed that this music was the bane of his life. "One can't hear

a word."

The piano was silent, but one could hear the sound of reluctant

steps, and some one looked in at the door.

The inspector seemed to feel eased by the interval of silence,

lit a thick cigarette of weak tobacco, and offered one to

Nekhludoff.

Nekhludoff refused.

"What I want is to see Maslova."

"Oh, yes, that can be managed. Now, then, what do you want?" he

said, addressing a little girl of five or six, who came into the

room and walked up to her father with her head turned towards

Nekhludoff, and her eyes fixed on him.

"There, now, you'll fall down," said the inspector, smiling, as

the little girl ran up to him, and, not looking where she was

going, caught her foot in a little rug.

"Well, then, if I may, I shall go."

"It's not very convenient to see Maslova to-day," said the

inspector.

"How's that?"

"Well, you know, it's all your own fault," said the inspector,

with a slight smile. "Prince, give her no money into her hands.

If you like, give it me. I will keep it for her. You see, you

gave her some money yesterday; she got some spirits (it's an evil

we cannot manage to root out), and to-day she is quite tipsy,

even violent."

"Can this be true?"

"Oh, yes, it is. I have even been obliged to have recourse to

severe measures, and to put her into a separate cell. She is a

quiet woman in an ordinary way. But please do not give her any

money. These people are so--" What had happened the day before

came vividly back to Nekhludoff's mind, and again he was seized

with fear.