Resurrection by Leo Tolstoy (best sci fi novels of all time TXT) 📕

only a rich gentleman whom she could, and must, make use of, and with whom she could only have the same relations as with men in general.

“No, I could not tell her the chief thing,” thought Nekhlúdoff, moving towards the front doors with the rest of the people. “I did not tell her that I would marry her; I did not tell her so, but I will,” he thought.

The two warders at the door let out the visitors, counting them again, and touching each one with their hands, so that no extra person should go out, and none remain within. The slap on his shoulder did not offend Nekhlúdoff this time; he did not even notice it.

XLV

Nekhlúdoff meant to rearrange the whole of his external life, to let his large house and move to an hotel, but Agraphéna Petróvna pointed out that it was useless to change anything before the winter. No one would rent a town house for the summer; anyhow, he would have to live and keep his things somewhere. And so all his efforts to change his manner of life (he meant to live more simply, as the students live) led to nothing. Not only did everything remain as it was, but the house was suddenly filled with new activity. All that was made of wool or fur was taken out to be aired and beaten. The gatekeeper, the boy, the cook, and Cornéy himself took part in this activity. All sorts of strange furs, which no one ever used, and various uniforms were taken out and hung on a line, then the carpets and furniture were brought out, and the gatekeeper and the boy rolled their sleeves up their muscular arms and stood beating these things, keeping strict time, while the rooms were filled with the smell of naphthaline.

When Nekhlúdoff crossed the yard or looked out of the window and saw all this going on, he was surprised at the great number of things there were, all quite useless. Their only use, Nekhlúdoff thought, was the providing of exercise for Agraphéna Petróvna, Cornéy, the gatekeeper, the boy, and the cook.

“But it’s not worth while altering my manner of life now,” he thought, “while Máslova’s case is not decided. Besides, it is too difficult. It will alter of itself when she will be set free or exiled, and I follow her.”

On the appointed day Nekhlúdoff drove up to the advocate Fanárin’s own splendid house, which was decorated with huge palms and other plants, and wonderful curtains, in fact, with all the expensive luxury witnessing to the possession of much idle money, i.e., money acquired without labour, which only those possess who grow rich suddenly. In the waiting-room, just as in a doctor’s waiting-room, he found many dejected-looking people sitting round several tables, on which lay illustrated papers meant to amuse them, awaiting their turns to be admitted to the advocate. The advocate’s assistant sat in the room at a high desk, and having recognised Nekhlúdoff, he came up to him and said he would go and announce him at once. But the assistant had not reached the door before it opened and the sounds of loud, animated voices were heard; the voice of a middle-aged, sturdy merchant, with a red face and thick moustaches, and the voice of Fanárin himself. Fanárin was also a middle-aged man of medium height, with a worn look on his face. Both faces bore the expression which you see on the faces of those who have just concluded a profitable but not quite honest transaction.

“Your own fault, you know, my dear sir,” Fanárin said, smiling.

“We’d all be in ’eaven were it not for hour sins.”

“Oh, yes, yes; we all know that,” and both laughed unnaturally.

“Oh, Prince Nekhlúdoff! Please to step in,” said Fanárin, seeing him, and, nodding once more to the merchant, he led Nekhlúdoff into his business cabinet, furnished in a severely correct style.

“Won’t you smoke?” said the advocate, sitting down opposite Nekhlúdoff and trying to conceal a smile, apparently still excited by the success of the accomplished transaction.

“Thanks; I have come about Máslova’s case.”

“Yes, yes; directly! But oh, what rogues these fat moneybags are!” he said. “You saw this here fellow. Why, he has about twelve million roubles, and he says ‘ ’eaven’ and ‘hour sins’; and if he can squeeze a twenty-fiver out of you he’ll have it, if he’s to wrench it out with his teeth.”

“He says ‘ ’eaven’ and ‘hour,’ and you say ‘squeeze out a twenty-fiver,’ ” Nekhlúdoff thought, with an insurmountable feeling of aversion towards this man who wished to show by his free and easy manner that he and Nekhlúdoff belonged to one and the same camp, while his other clients belonged to another.

“He has worried me to death⁠—a fearful scoundrel. I felt I must relieve my feelings,” said the advocate, as if to excuse his speaking about things that had no reference to business. “Well, how about your case? I have read it attentively, but do not approve of it. I mean that greenhorn of an advocate has left no valid reason for an appeal.”

“Well, then, what have you decided?”

“One moment. Tell him,” he said to his assistant, who had just come in, “that I keep to what I have said. If he can, it’s all right; if not, no matter.”

“But he won’t agree.”

“Well, no matter,” and the advocate frowned.

“There now, and it is said that we advocates get our money for nothing,” he remarked, after a pause. “I have freed one insolvent debtor from a totally false charge, and now they all flock to me. Yet every such case costs enormous labour. Why, don’t we, too, ‘lose bits of flesh in the inkstand?’ as some writer or other has said. Well, as to your case, or, rather, the case you are taking an interest in. It has been conducted abominably. There is no good reason for appealing. Still,” he continued, “we can but try to get the sentence revoked. This