"How can you say it does not exist when a man risks a terrible death?"
"I think," said Novodvoroff, "that if we wish to serve our cause effectively it is necessary that we stop dreaming and look at things as they are. We must do everything for the masses, and expect nothing from them. The masses are the object of our activity, but they cannot be our collaborators while they are as inert as they are now. And it is, therefore, perfectly illusive to expect aid from them before they have gone through the process of development—that process of development for which we are preparing them."
"What process of development?" said Kryltzoff, becoming red in the face. "We say that we are against the use of force, but is this not force in its worst form?"
"There is no force here," calmly said Novodvoroff. "I only said that I know the path the people must follow, and can point it out."
"But how do you know that yours is the right path? Is it not the same despotism which gave rise to the Inquisition and the executions of the Great Revolution? They, too, knew the only scientific path."
"The fact that people erred does not prove that I am erring. Besides, there is a great difference between the ravings of ideologists and the data of positive economic science."
Novodvoroff's voice filled the entire cell. He alone was speaking; all the others were silent.
"Those eternal discussions!" said Maria Pablovna at a momentary lull.
"And what do you think of it?" Nekhludoff asked Maria Pablovna.
"I think that Anatolie is right—that we have no right to force our ideas on the people."
"That is a strange conception of our ideas," said Novodvoroff, and he began to smoke angrily.
"I cannot talk to them," Kryltzoff said in a whisper, and became silent.
"And it is much better not to talk," said Nekhludoff.
CHAPTER VI.
An officer entered the cell and announced that the time for departing had arrived. He counted every prisoner, pointing at every one with his finger. When he reached Nekhludoff he said, familiarly:
"It is too late to remain now, Prince; it is time to go."
Nekhludoff, knowing what that meant, approached him and thrust three rubles into his hand.
"Nothing can be done with you—stay here a while longer."
Simonson, who was all the while silently sitting on his bunk, his hands clasped behind his head, firmly arose, and carefully making his way through those sitting around the bunk, went over to Nekhludoff.
"Can you hear me now?" asked Simonson.
"Certainly," said Nekhludoff, also rising to follow him.
Maslova saw Nekhludoff rising, and their eyes meeting, she turned red in the face and doubtfully, as it seemed, shook her head.
"My business with you is the following," began Simonson, when they reached the corridor. "Knowing your relations toward Catherine Michaelovna," and he looked straight into Nekhludoff's face, "I consider it my duty——" But at the very door two voices were shouting at the same time.
"I tell you, heathen, they are not mine," shouted one voice.
"Choke yourself, you devil!" the other said, hoarsely.
At that moment Maria Pablovna entered the corridor.
"You cannot talk here," she said. "Walk in here; only Verotchka is there." And she opened the door of a tiny cell, evidently intended for solitary confinement, and now at the disposal of the political prisoners. On one of the bunks lay Vera Efremovna, with her head covered.
"She is ill and asleep; she cannot hear you, and I will go," said Maria Pablovna.
"On the contrary, stay here," said Simonson. "I keep nothing secret, especially from you."
"Very well," said Maria Pablovna, and childishly moving her whole body from side to side, and thus getting into a snug corner of the bunks, she prepared to listen, at the same time looking somewhere in the distance with her beautiful, sheepish eyes.
"Well, then, knowing your relations toward Catherine Michaelovna, I consider it my duty to let you know my relations to her."
"Well, go on," said Nekhludoff, involuntarily admiring Simonson's simplicity and straightforwardness.
"I wished to tell you that I would like to marry Catherine Michaelovna——"
"Remarkable!" exclaimed Maria Pablovna, fixing her gaze on Simonson.
"And I have decided to ask her to be my wife," continued Simonson.
"What, then, can I do? It depends on her," said Nekhludoff.
"Yes; but she would not decide the matter without you."
"Why?"
"Because, while the question of your relations remains undecided, she cannot choose."
"On my part the question is definitely decided. I only wished to do that which I considered it my duty to do, and also to relieve her condition, but in no case did I intend to influence her choice."
"Yes; but she does not wish your sacrifice."
"There is no sacrifice."
"And I also know that her decision is irrevocable."
"Why, then, talk to me?" said Nekhludoff.
"It is necessary for her that you should also approve of it."
"I can only say that I am not free, but she is free to do what she wishes."
Simonson began to ponder.
"Very well, I will tell her so. Do not think that I am in love with her," he continued. "I admire her as a good, rare person who has suffered much. I wish nothing from her, but I would very much like to help her, to relieve her——"
Simonson's trembling voice surprised Nekhludoff.
"To relieve her condition," continued Simonson. "If she does not wish to accept your help, let her accept mine. If she consented, I would ask permission to join her in prison. Four years is not an eternity. I would live near her, and perhaps lighten her fate——" His emotion again compelled him to stop.
"What can I say?" said Nekhludoff. "I am glad that she has found such a protector."
"That is just what I wanted to know," continued Simonson. "I wished to know whether you, loving her and seeking her good, could approve of her marrying me?"
"Oh, yes," Nekhludoff answered, decisively.
"It is all for her; all I wish is that that woman, who had suffered so much, should have some rest," said Simonson, with a childlike gentleness that no one would expect from a man of such gloomy aspect.
Simonson rose, took Nekhludoff's hand, smiled bashfully and embraced him.
"Well, I will so tell her," he said, and left the room.
CHAPTER VII.
"What do you think of him?" said Maria Pablovna. "In love, and earnestly in love! I never thought that Vladimir Simonson could fall in love in such a very stupid, childish fashion. It is remarkable, and to tell the truth, sad," she concluded, sighing.
"But Katia? How do you think she will take it?" asked Nekhludoff.
"She?" Maria Pablovna stopped, evidently desiring to give a precise answer. "She? You see, notwithstanding her past, she is naturally of a most moral character. And her feelings are so refined. She loves you—very much so—and is happy to be able to do you the negative good of not binding you to herself. Marriage with you would be a dreadful fall to her, worse than all her past. For this reason she would never consent to it. At the same time, your presence perplexes her."
"Ought I then to disappear?" asked Nekhludoff.
Maria Pablovna smiled in her pleasant, childish way.
"Yes, partly."
"How can I partly disappear?"
"I take it back. But I will tell you that she probably sees the absurdity of that exalted love of his (he has not spoken to her about it), is flattered by it, and fears it. You know that I am not competent in these matters, but I think that his love is that of the ordinary man, although it is masked. He says that it rouses his energy and that it is a platonic love; but it has nothing but nastiness for its basis."
"But what am I to do?" asked Nekhludoff.