"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.
Chapter# / Title
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