VISITING DAY--THE WOMEN'S WARD.
"Well, but I must do what I came here for," he said, trying to pick up courage. "What is to be done now?" He looked round for an official, and seeing a thin little man in the uniform of an officer going up and down behind the people, he approached him.
"Can you tell me, sir," he said, with exceedingly strained politeness of manner, "where the women are kept, and where one is allowed to interview them?"
"Is it the women's ward you want to go to?"
"Yes, I should like to see one of the women prisoners," Nekhludoff said, with the same strained politeness.
"You should have said so when you were in the hall. Who is it, then, that you want to see?"
"I want to see a prisoner called Katerina Maslova."
"Is she a political one?"
"No, she is simply . . ."
"What! Is she sentenced?"
"Yes; the day before yesterday she was sentenced," meekly answered Nekhludoff, fearing to spoil the inspector's good humour, which seemed to incline in his favour.
"If you want to go to the women's ward please to step this way," said the officer, having decided from Nekhludoff's appearance that he was worthy of attention. "Sideroff, conduct the gentleman to the women's ward," he said, turning to a moustached corporal with medals on his breast.
"Yes, sir."
At this moment heart-rending sobs were heard coming from some one near the net.
Everything here seemed strange to Nekhludoff; but strangest of all was that he should have to thank and feel obligation towards the inspector and the chief warders, the very men who were performing the cruel deeds that were done in this house.
The corporal showed Nekhludoff through the corridor, out of the men's into the women's interviewing-room.
This room, like that of the men, was divided by two wire nets; but it was much smaller, and there were fewer visitors and fewer prisoners, so that there was less shouting than in the men's room. Yet the same thing was going on here, only, between the nets instead of soldiers there was a woman warder, dressed in a blue-edged uniform jacket, with gold cords on the sleeves, and a blue belt. Here also, as in the men's room, the people were pressing close to the wire netting on both sides; on the nearer side, the townspeople in varied attire; on the further side, the prisoners, some in white prison clothes, others in their own coloured dresses. The whole length of the net was taken up by the people standing close to it. Some rose on tiptoe to be heard across the heads of others; some sat talking on the floor.
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.
“不过，该办的事还是要办，”聂赫留朵夫鼓励自己说。
“可是该怎么办呢？”
他用眼睛找寻长官。他看见一个佩军官肩章、留小胡子、身材瘦小的人在人群后面走来走去，就对他说：
“先生，请问，女犯关在什么地方？什么地方可以同她们见面？”他非常紧张而又谦恭地问。
“难道您要探望女监吗？”
“是的，我希望同一个关在这里的女人见面，”聂赫留朵夫依旧那么紧张而谦恭地回答。
“您刚才在聚会厅里就该这么说了。那么您要见什么人？”
“我要见玛丝洛娃。”
“她是政治犯吗？”副典狱长问。
“不，她只不过是……”
“她怎么，判决了吗？”
“是的，她前天判决了，”聂赫留朵夫恭顺地回答，生怕破坏这个似乎同情他的副典狱长的情绪。
“既然您要探女监，那就请到这里来，”副典狱长说，显然从聂赫留朵夫的外表上看出为他效劳是值得的。“西多罗夫，”他吩咐胸前挂着几个奖章的留小胡子军士说，“把这位先生带到女监探望室去。”
“是，长官。”
这当儿，铁栅栏那边传来一阵令人心碎的痛哭声。
聂赫留朵夫觉得一切都很古怪，而最古怪的是，他还得感激典狱长和看守长，感激在这座房子里干着种种暴行的人，还得认为他承受了他们的恩惠。
看守长把聂赫留朵夫从男监探望室领到走廊里，随即打开对面的房门，又把他领进女监探望室。
这个房间也象男监探望室一样，由两道铁丝网隔成三部分，但地方要小得多，来探监的人和囚犯也都少些，不过里面的喧闹声同男监一样。在两道铁丝网中间也有个长官在来回踱步。不过，这里的长官是一个女看守，也穿着制服，袖口上镶有丝绦，滚着蓝边，腰里也象男看守一样系一条宽腰带。两边铁丝网上，也象男监探望室一样，贴满了人：这边是穿着各式衣服的城里居民，那边是穿着白色囚衣或便服的女犯。整个铁丝网上都挤满了人。有人踮起脚，这样可以超过人家的头说话，使对方听得清楚些；有人坐在地板上同对方交谈。
在所有女犯中间有一个女人特别显眼，她的叫嚷和模样也特别引人注意。这是一个头发蓬乱、身体瘦弱的吉卜赛女犯，头巾从她那鬈曲的头发上滑了下来。她站在铁丝网那边，挨近柱子，几乎就在房间中央，对一个身穿蓝上衣、腰里紧束着皮带的吉卜赛男人嚷着什么，同时迅速地做着手势。在吉卜赛男人旁边，蹲着一个士兵，正同一个女犯说话。再过去，站着一个穿树皮鞋的矮小农民，留着浅色胡子，脸涨得通红，显然好不容易才忍住眼泪。同他谈话的是一个头发浅黄、相貌好看的女犯。她用一双明亮的蓝眼睛瞅着对方。这就是费多霞和她的丈夫。他们旁边站着一个衣衫褴褛的男人，正同一个披头散发的宽脸膛女人说话。再过去是两个女人，一个男人，又是一个女人，他们各自都同对面的女犯说着话。在女犯中没见到玛丝洛娃。但在那一边，在那些女犯后面还站着一个女人。聂赫留朵夫立刻悟到那个女人就是她，他的心怦怦直跳，气都快喘不过来了。生死攸关的时刻到了。他走到铁丝网旁边，认清了是她。她站在蓝眼睛的费多霞后面，笑眯眯地听她说话。她不象前天那样穿着囚袍，只穿着一件腰带紧束的白上衣，高耸着胸部。头巾里露出鬈曲的黑发，就象那天在法庭上一样。
“马上就要摊牌了，”他暗自想。“我该怎么称呼她呢？也许她会自动过来吧？”
但她并没有走过来。她在等克拉拉，根本没有想到这个男人是来找她的。
“您要找谁？”那个在铁丝网中间踱步的女看守走到聂赫留朵夫跟前问。
“玛丝洛娃，”聂赫留朵夫好容易才说出口。
“玛丝洛娃，有人找你！”女看守叫道。