45

NEKHLYUDOV had meant to change the circumstances of his life: to let his large house, send away the servants and move into a hotel. But Agrafena Petrovna pointed out that there was no sense in making any change before the winter; no one would take over a town house in summer, and anyhow he would have to live and keep his furniture and things somewhere. Thus all his efforts to change his manner of life (he felt he wanted to live in a simple fashion, like a student) came to naught. Not only did things remain as they were but the house was suddenly filled with new activity: everything made of wool or fur was taken out to be aired and beaten, a performance in which the house-porter, the boy, the cook and Korney himself took part. First various uniforms and strange garments of fur which no one ever wore were brought out and hung on the line; then it was the turn of the carpets and furniture, and the house-porter and the boy, shirt-sleeves rolled up over muscular arms, vigorously started to beat everything, keeping strict time, and the smell of camphor balls spread through all the rooms. When Nekhlyudov crossed the courtyard or looked out of the window he marvelled what a terrible lot of things there were, and how utterly useless they were. Their only use and purpose, Nekhlyudov thought, was to provide exercise for Agrafena Petrovna, Korney, the house-porter, the boy and the cook.

‘It’s not worth while altering my mode of life now until Maslova’s case is settled,’ he reflected. ‘Besides, it is too difficult. The change will come of its own accord when she is released or exiled and I follow her.’

On the appointed day Nekhlyudov drove up to the lawyer’s private house. Entering Fanarin’s magnificent apartments with their huge plants and wonderful curtains at the windows and all the expensive furnishings generally which indicate the possession of much easy money – that is, money which has not had to be earned – such as are only to be seen in the homes of people who have grown rich suddenly, Nekhlyudov found in the reception-room, as at a doctor’s, a number of clients waiting their turn, sitting gloomily by little tables on which lay illustrated magazines intended to help them while away their time. The lawyer’s assistant was also sitting in the room, at a high desk, and recognizing Nekhlyudov came up to greet him and say he would announce him at once. But he had barely reached the door of the office when it opened and the loud animated voices were heard of a middle-aged, stocky man with a red face and thick moustaches, wearing brand-new clothes, and of Fanarin himself. The expression on both faces was that of men who have just concluded a profitable but not quite honest transaction.

‘That’s your own fault, my dear fellow,’ said Fanarin, smiling.

‘We’d all git to ’eaven if it wasn’t for our sins.’

‘Oh yes, we know all about that.’

And both men laughed awkwardly.

‘Oh, Prince Nekhlyudov, please come in,’ said Fanarin, catching sight of Nekhlyudov, and nodding once more to the departing merchant he led Nekhlyudov into his office, which was furnished with rigid simplicity. ‘Have a cigarette, will you?’ said the lawyer, seating himself opposite Nekhlyudov and trying to repress a smile evidently due to the success of the transaction just completed.

‘Thank you. I have come about Maslova’s case.’

‘Yes, yes, I know. Ugh, what rascals these fat moneybags are!’ he said. ‘You saw that fellow? He’s worth about twelve million. But he says “’eaven” and “git”. And he’d tear a tenner off you with his teeth if he saw the chance.’

‘He says “’eaven” and “git”, and you talk about a “tenner”,’ Nekhlyudov was thinking with an insurmountable feeling of disgust for this man with his free and easy tone which was meant to show that he belonged to the same class as Nekhlyudov and that the clients who came to him, and the rest of mankind, were in another, alien camp.

‘He has given me no end of trouble, the scoundrel. I felt I had to unburden my heart,’ said the lawyer, as if to excuse himself for not talking business with Nekhlyudov. ‘Well, about your case… I have gone through it carefully and “disapprove of the contents thereof”, as Turgenyev says. I mean to say, that wretched little lawyer missed just about every point which could have been grounds for an appeal,’

‘What have you decided, then?’

‘Excuse me. Tell him,’ he said to his assistant who had just come in, ‘that I stick to what I said: if he can, well and good; if he can’t, it doesn’t matter.’

‘But he won’t agree.’

‘Well then, let him go,’ replied the lawyer, and his cheerful self-satisfied expression became sullen and spiteful.

‘And they say we lawyers get our money for doing nothing,’ he said, bringing the former pleasant amiability back into his face. ‘I saved a bankrupt debtor from a totally false charge and now they all flock to me. But every such case means an enormous amount of work. As some author or other said, we, too, “write with our heart’s blood”. Now about your case, or rather, the case you are interested in,’ he went on. ‘It has been abominably mishandled. There are no good grounds for an appeal, still we can have a try, and here are the notes I have made.’

He took up a sheet of paper covered with writing and began to read rapidly, slurring over the uninteresting legal terms and laying particular stress on other words. ‘“To the Court of Appeal, Criminal Department, etc., etc. The Petition of So-and-so. By the decision, etc., etc., and according to the verdict, etc., one Maslova was found guilty of having caused the death by poisoning of the merchant Smelkov, and, by virtue of Article 1454 of the Penal Code, has been sentenced to hard labour, etc.”’

He paused. Evidently, in spite of being so used to it, he still found pleasure in listening to his own compositions.

‘“This sentence”’ he continued impressively, ‘“is the direct consequence of judicial infringements and errors so serious as to make it subject to rescission. In the first place, the reading of the report of the post-mortem examination of Smelkov’s intestines was interrupted by the President at the very beginning.” That is point one.’

‘But it was the prosecution who demanded the reading,’ Nekhlyudov said in surprise.

‘Makes no difference. The defence might have had cause to ask for it, too.’

‘But there was no earthly need for it.’

‘It is a ground for appeal, though. To continue: “In the second place, when the counsel for the defence, trying to describe Maslova’s personality, was referring to some of the causes of his client’s fall, the President stopped him and called him to order for introducing irrelevant material. Now it is recognized that in criminal cases (and this has been repeatedly pointed out by the Senate) the elucidation of the moral character and personality of the defendant is of prime importance, even if only as a guide in determining the correct degree of responsibility.” That is point number two,’ he said, glancing at Nekhlyudov.

‘But he spoke so wretchedly that it was impossible to understand him,’ said Nekhlyudov, more and more astonished.

‘The fellow’s a complete fool, he couldn’t be expected to say anything sensible,’ Fanarin said, laughing; ‘but all the same it will do as a cause for appeal. Well, to go on: “Thirdly, in his summing-up the President violated the categorical demand of Par. I, Article 801 of the Penal Code by omitting to inform the jury exactly what is required by law for the conviction of an alleged criminal, and did not tell them that although they were agreed on the fact that Maslova had administered the poison to Smelkov, nevertheless, since proofs of wilful intent to deprive Smelkov of life were absent, they had the right to bring in a verdict, not of murder but of the misdemeanour of carelessness resulting in the merchant’s death, which she did not desire.” And that is the really important point.’

‘But we ought to have understood that ourselves. That was our mistake.’

‘“And, finally, in the fourth place,”’ continued the lawyer, ‘“the answer of the jury to the question of Maslova’s guilt was couched in language which contained a palpable contradiction. Maslova Was accused of the wilful poisoning of Smelkov solely for mercenary motives – there being no other motive for murder; yet the jury in their verdict acquitted her of any intent to rob and of participation in the theft of the valuables – from which it is manifest that they also intended to acquit her of the intent to murder and only through a misunderstanding, which arose from the incompleteness of the President’s summing up, omitted to express this in proper form in their findings; in consideration whereof this verdict of the jury calls for the application of Articles 816 and 808 of the Penal Code – that is, an explanation by the President to the jury of their mistake, to be followed by their retirement to reconsider their verdict concerning the defendant’s guilt,”’ read Fanarin.

‘Then why ever did the President not do this?’

‘That’s what I’d like to know,’ replied Fanarin, with a laugh.

‘So you think the Senate will rectify the error?’

‘That will depend on which of the old men are present at the time.’

‘What do you mean – old men?’

‘Old men who ought to be in the work-house. So there you are. Further I say: “Such a verdict did not entitle the Court to sentence Maslova for a criminal offence,’” he continued rapidly ‘“and the application in her case of Par. 3, Article 771 of the Penal Code constitutes a direct and flagrant violation of the fundamental principles of our criminal law. On the grounds stated above I have the honour to appeal, and so on and so forth, that this verdict be set aside in conformity with Articles 909, 910, Par. 2 of 912, and 928 of the Penal Code, etc., etc.… and that the case be transferred to another division of the said Court for a retrial.” There! All that can be done is done but, to be frank, I have little hope of success. Still, it all depends on what members are present in the Senate. If you have any influence, see what you can do.’

‘I do know some of them.’

‘All right; only be quick about it or they’ll all be off to cure their piles, and then you’ll have three months to wait.… Then, if that’s no good, we can fall back on a petition to His Majesty. That depends, too, on wire-pulling behind the scenes. In that case I am also at your service – not with the wire-pulling, I mean, but in drawing up the petition.’

‘I thank you. And your fee –’

‘My assistant will give you a clean copy of the appeal, and he will tell you.’

‘There is another thing I wanted to ask you: the public prosecutor gave me a pass to visit this person in prison, but at the prison they told me that I must obtain permission from the governor if I wished to see her other than at the regular time and place. Is that necessary?’

‘Yes, I think so. But the governor is not here just now, and the deputy governor is in charge. But he’s such a hopeless fool, I doubt whether you’ll do anything with him.’

‘Is that Maslennikov?’

‘Yes.’

‘I know him,’ said Nekhlyudov, and got up to go.

At this moment a fearfully ugly, skinny, snub-nosed, yellow-faced little woman flew into the room. It was the lawyer’s wife, who did not seem to be the least bit dejected by her ugliness. Not only was she dressed in the most extravagantly original manner in some garment made of velvet and silk in bright yellow and green but her thin hair was crimped and curled, and she made a triumphal entry into the room accompanied by a lank, smiling man with a greenish complexion, wearing a coat with silk lapels, and a white tie. This was a writer; Nekhlyudov knew him by sight.

‘Anatole,’ she said, opening the door. ‘Come in here a moment. Semeon Ivanovich has promised to read his poem, and you absolutely must come and read to us about Garshin.’

Nekhlyudov was rising to leave, but the lawyer’s wife whispered something to her husband and immediately turned towards him.

‘I beg your pardon, prince – I know who you are, so I think we may dispense with an introduction. Do come to our literary matinée. It will be very interesting. Anatole reads delightfully.’

‘You see what a variety of occupations I have,’ said Anatole, making a helpless gesture with his hands and smilingly indicating his wife, as much as to say, who could resist such a bewitching creature?

With a grave and melancholy air, and with the greatest politeness, Nekhlyudov thanked the lawyer’s wife for the honour she did him in inviting him but excused himself for lack of time, and went out into the waiting-room.

‘What affectation!’ remarked the lawyer’s wife when he was gone.

In the waiting-room the assistant handed Nekhlyudov the prepared petition, and, to his inquiry about the fee, said that Monsieur Fanarin had fixed it at a thousand roubles, adding that Monsieur Fanarin did not usually take cases of that sort but had made an exception for Nekhlyudov.

‘And about the petition, who signs it?’ asked Nekhlyudov.

‘The defendant herself may, or if that presents a difficulty Monsieur Fanarin could if he gets a power of attorney from her.’

‘Oh no. I will take it along and get her signature,’ said Nekhlyudov, glad of an excuse for seeing her before the regular day.