Book 1 Chapter 9 The Trial - The Prisoners Questioned

Botchkova was forty-three years old, and came from the town of
Kalomna. She, too, had been in service at the Hotel Mauritania.

"I have never been tried before, and have received a copy of the
indictment." She gave her answers boldly, in a tone of voice as
if she meant to add to each answer, "And I don't care who knows
it, and I won't stand any nonsense."

She did not wait to be told, but sat down as soon as she had
replied to the last question.

"Your name?" turning abruptly to the third prisoner. "You will
have to rise," he added, softly and gently, seeing that Maslova
kept her seat.

Maslova got up and stood, with her chest expanded, looking at the
president with that peculiar expression of readiness in her
smiling black eyes.

"What is your name?"

"Lubov," she said.

Nekhludoff had put on his pince-nez, looking at the prisoners
while they were being questioned.

"No, it is impossible," he thought, not taking his eyes off the
prisoner. "Lubov! How can it be?" he thought to himself, after
hearing her answer. The president was going to continue his
questions, but the member with the spectacles interrupted him,
angrily whispering something. The president nodded, and turned
again to the prisoner.

"How is this," he said, "you are not put down here as Lubov?"

The prisoner remained silent.

"I want your real name."

"What is your baptismal name?" asked the angry member.

"Formerly I used to be called Katerina."

"No, it cannot be," said Nekhludoff to himself; and yet he was
now certain that this was she, that same girl, half ward, half
servant to his aunts; that Katusha, with whom he had once been in
love, really in love, but whom he had betrayed and then
abandoned, and never again brought to mind, for the memory would
have been too painful, would have convicted him too clearly,
proving that he who was so proud of his integrity had treated
this woman in a revolting, scandalous way.