Book 3 Chapter 23 The Sentence Commuted

"By-the-way, where are you staying?" asked the General as he was
taking leave of Nekhludoff. "At Duke's? Well, it's horrid enough
there. Come and dine with us at five o'clock. You speak English?"

"Yes, I do."

"That's good. You see, an English traveller has just arrived
here. He is studying the question of transportation and examining
the prisons of Siberia. Well, he is dining with us to-night, and
you come and meet him. We dine at five, and my wife expects
punctuality. Then I shall also give you an answer what to do
about that woman, and perhaps it may be possible to leave some
one behind with the sick prisoner."

Having made his bow to the General, Nekhludoff drove to the
post-office, feeling himself in an extremely animated and
energetic frame of mind.

The post-office was a low-vaulted room. Several officials sat
behind a counter serving the people, of whom there was quite a
crowd. One official sat with his head bent to one side and kept
stamping the envelopes, which he slipped dexterously under the
stamp. Nekhludoff had not long to wait. As soon as he had given
his name, everything that had come for him by post was at once
handed to him. There was a good deal: letters, and money, and
books, and the last number of Fatherland Notes. Nekhludoff took
all these things to a wooden bench, on which a soldier with a
book in his hand sat waiting for something, took the seat by his
side, and began sorting the letters. Among them was one
registered letter in a fine envelope, with a distinctly stamped
bright red seal. He broke the seal, and seeing a letter from
Selenin and some official paper inside the envelope, he felt the
blood rush to his face, and his heart stood still. It was the
answer to Katusha's petition. What would that answer be?
Nekhludoff glanced hurriedly through the letter, written in an
illegibly small, hard, and cramped hand, and breathed a sigh of
relief. The answer was a favourable one.