25

THE talk with the president of the court, and the fresh air, somewhat calmed Nekhlyudov. He began to think that perhaps he had been overwrought by a morning spent in such unusual circumstances.

‘Of course, it is a remarkable and striking coincidence! And I must do everything possible to ease her lot, and do it quickly. This very moment. Yes, I must find out from the court here Fanarin’s address, or Mikishin’s.’ He remembered the names of two well-known lawyers.

He returned to the court-house, took off his overcoat and went upstairs. Actually in the first corridor he met Fanarin. He stopped him and told him he was just going to look him up on a matter of business. Fanarin knew Nekhlyudov by sight and by name, and said he would be very glad to be of service.

‘Though I am rather tired… but if it will not take long, perhaps you might tell me what it is now. Let us go in here.’

And Fanarin led Nekhlyudov into a room, probably the private room of one of the judges. They sat down by the table.

“Well now, what is it about?’

‘First of all I must ask you to treat this as strictly confidential. I do not want it known that I am taking an interest in the affair.’

‘Oh, that goes without saying. Well?’

‘I served on the jury today and we condemned a woman to penal servitude – an innocent woman. This troubles me very much.’

Nekhlyudov, to his own surprise, blushed and hesitated.

Fanarin glanced at him sharply, and looked down again, listening.

‘Well now,’ was all he said.

‘We have condemned an innocent woman, and I should like to appeal to a higher court.’

‘To the Senate, you mean,’ Fanarin corrected him.

‘And so I want you to take the case.’

Nekhlyudov, in haste to get over the worst, went on hurriedly, the colour again rising to his face:

‘I will bear the fees and other expenses, whatever they may be.’

‘Oh, we can settle that later,’ replied the lawyer, with a smile of condescension at Nekhlyudov’s inexperience.

‘What are the facts of the case now?’

Nekhlyudov told him.

‘Very well. Tomorrow I’ll take it up and look into the matter. And the day after tomorrow – no, on Thursday afternoon – come and see me at six o’clock, and I will give you my answer. Is that all right? And now, if you will excuse me, I have a few inquiries to make here.’

Nekhlyudov said good-bye and left him.

The conversation with the lawyer and the fact that he had taken measures for Maslova’s defence still further relieved his mind. He went out into the street. The weather was lovely and he drew in a joyous breath of spring air. Cabmen offered their services but he chose to walk, and immediately a whole swarm of thoughts and memories of Katusha and the way he had treated her began whirling in his brain. Depression overcame him and everything looked gloomy. ‘No, I will think about that later,’ he said to himself. ‘Now I must try to throw off these disagreeable reflections.’

He remembered the Korchagins’ dinner and glanced at his watch. It was not too late and he could get there in time. A horse-tram was tinkling past him. He ran and caught it. At the square he jumped off and took a good cab, and ten minutes later he was at the entrance of the Korchagins’ big house.