CHAPTER XXII.
AN OLD FRIEND.
"Terrible," said Nekhludoff, as he went out into the waiting-room
with the advocate, who was arranging the papers in his portfolio.
"In a matter which is perfectly clear they attach all the
importance to the form and reject the appeal. Terrible!"
"The case was spoiled in the Criminal Court," said the advocate.
"And Selenin, too, was in favour of the rejection. Terrible!
terrible!" Nekhludoff repeated. "What is to be done now?"
"We will appeal to His Majesty, and you can hand in the petition
yourself while you are here. I will write it for you."
At this moment little Wolf, with his stars and uniform, came out
into the waiting-room and approached Nekhludoff. "It could not be
helped, dear Prince. The reasons for an appeal were not
sufficient," he said, shrugging his narrow shoulders and closing
his eyes, and then he went his way.
After Wolf, Selenin came out too, having heard from the Senators
that his old friend Nekhludoff was there.
"Well, I never expected to see you here," he said, coming up to
Nekhludoff, and smiling only with his lips while his eyes
remained sad. "I did not know you were in Petersburg."
"And I did not know you were Public Prosecutor-in-Chief."
"How is it you are in the Senate?" asked Selenin. "I had heard,
by the way, that you were in Petersburg. But what are you doing
here?"
"Here? I am here because I hoped to find justice and save a woman
innocently condemned."
"What woman?"
"The one whose case has just been decided."
"Oh! Maslova's case," said Selenin, suddenly remembering it. "The
appeal had no grounds whatever."
"It is not the appeal; it's the woman who is innocent, and is
being punished."
Selenin sighed. "That may well be, but----'
"Not MAY BE, but is."
"How do you know?"
"Because I was on the jury. I know how we made the mistake."
"Selenin became thoughtful. "You should have made a statement at
the time," he said.
"I did make the statement."
"It should have been put down in an official report. If this had
been added to the petition for the appeal--"
"Yes, but still, as it is, the verdict is evidently absurd."
"The Senate has no right to say so. If the Senate took upon
itself to repeal the decision of the law courts according to its
own views as to the justice of the decisions in themselves, the
verdict of the jury would lose all its meaning, not to mention
that the Senate would have no basis to go upon, and would run the
risk of infringing justice rather than upholding it," said
Selenin, calling to mind the case that had just been heard.
"All I know is that this woman is quite innocent, and that the
last hope of saying her from an unmerited punishment is gone. The
grossest injustice has been confirmed by the highest court."
"It has not been confirmed. The Senate did not and cannot enter
into the merits of the case in itself," said Selenin. Always busy
and rarely going out into society, he had evidently heard nothing
of Nekhludoff's romance. Nekhludoff noticed it, and made up his
mind that it was best to say nothing about his special relations
with Maslova.
"You are probably staying with your aunt," Selenin remarked,
apparently wishing to change the subject. "She told me you were
here yesterday, and she invited me to meet you in the evening,
when some foreign preacher was to lecture," and Selenin again
smiled only with his lips.
"Yes, I was there, but left in disgust," said Nekhludoff angrily,
vexed that Selenin had changed the subject.
"Why with disgust? After all, it is a manifestation of religious
feeling, though one-sided and sectarian," said Selenin.
"Why, it's only some kind of whimsical folly."
"Oh, dear, no. The curious thing is that we know the teaching of
our church so little that we see some new kind of revelation in
what are, after all, our own fundamental dogmas," said Selenin,
as if hurrying to let his old friend know his new views.
Nekhludoff looked at Selenin scrutinisingly and with surprise,
and Selenin dropped his eyes, in which appeared an expression not
only of sadness but also of ill-will.
"Do you, then, believe in the dogmas of the church?" Nekhludoff
asked.
"Of course I do," replied Selenin, gazing straight into
Nekhludoff's eyes with a lifeless look.
Nekhludoff sighed. "It is strange," he said.
"However, we shall have a talk some other time," said Selenin.
"I am coming," he added, in answer to the usher, who had
respectfully approached him. "Yes, we must meet again," he went
on with a sigh. "But will it be possible for me to find you? You
will always find me in at seven o'clock. My address is
Nadejdinskaya," and he gave the number. "Ah, time does not stand
still," and he turned to go, smiling only with his lips.
"I will come if I can," said Nekhludoff, feeling that a man once
near and dear to him had, by this brief conversation, suddenly
become strange, distant, and incomprehensible, if not hostile to
him.
