 Book 3, Chapter 1 of Resurrection. The gang of prisoners to which Maslova belonged had walked about 3,300 miles. She and the other prisoners, condemned for criminal offences, had travelled by rail and by steamboats as far as the town of Perm. It was only here that Nekladov succeeded in obtaining a permission for her to continue the journey with the political prisoners, as Vera Dakova, who was among the latter, advised him to do. The journey up to Perm had been very trying to Maslova, both morally and physically. Physically because of the overcrowding, the dirt and the disgusting vermin which gave her no peace, morally because of the equally disgusting men. The men, like the vermin, though they changed at each halting place, were everywhere alike importunate. They swarmed round her, giving her no rest. Among the women prisoners and the men prisoners, the jailers and the convoy soldiers, the habit of a kind of cynical debauch was so firmly established that unless a female prisoner was willing to utilise her position as a woman, she had to be constantly on the watch. To be continually in a state of fear and strife was very trying, and Maslova was specially exposed to attacks, her appearance being attractive and her past known to everyone. The decided resistance, with which she now met the importunity of all the men, seemed offensive to them, and awakened another feeling that of ill will towards her. But her position was made a little easier by her intimacy with Theodosia, and Theodosia's husband, who, having heard of the molestations his wife was subject to, had Inidgeny been arrested at his own desire in order to be able to protect her, and was now travelling with the gang as a prisoner. Maslova's position became much more bearable when she was allowed to join the political prisoners, who were provided with better accommodations, better food, and were treated less rudely. But besides all this, Maslova's condition was much improved, because among the political prisoners she was no longer molested by the men, and could live without being reminded of that past which she was so anxious to forget. With the chief advantage of the change, lay in the fact that she made the acquaintance of several persons who exercised a decided and most beneficial influence on her character. Maslova was allowed to stop with the political prisoners at all the halting places. But being a strong and healthy woman, she was obliged to march with the criminal convicts. In this way she walked all the way from Tomsk. Two political prisoners also marched with the gang, Mary Pavlovna Shetanina, the girl with the hazel eyes who had attracted Nekladov's attention when he had been to visit Dukovar in prison, and one Simonson, who was on his way to the Takuts district, the disheveled dark young fellow with deep lying eyes whom Nekladov had also noticed during that visit. Mary Pavlovna was walking because she had given her place on the cart to one of the criminals, a woman expecting to be confined, and Simonson because he did not dare to avail himself of a class privilege. These three always started early in the morning before the rest of the political prisoners, who followed later on in the carts. They were ready to start in this way just outside a large town where a new convoy officer had taken charge of the gang. It was early on a dull September morning. It kept raining and snowing alternately, and the cold wind blew in sudden gusts. The whole gang of prisoners, consisting of four hundred men and fifty women, was already assembled in the court of the halting station. Some of them were crowding round the chief of the convoy, who was giving to specially appointed prisoners money for two days' keep to distribute among the rest, while others were purchasing food from women who had been let into the courtyard. One could hear the voices of the prisoners counting their money and making their purchases, and the shrill voices of the women with the food. Simonson, in his rubber jacket and rubber overshoes, fastened with a string over his worsted stockings. He was a vegetarian, and would not wear the skin of slaughtered animals. Was also in the courtyard, waiting for the gang to start. He stood by the porch and jotted down in his notebook a thought that had occurred to him. This was what he wrote. If a bacteria watched and examined a human nail, it would pronounce it inorganic matter, and thus we, examining our globe and watching its crust, pronounce it to be inorganic. This is incorrect. Katusha and Mary Pavlovna, both wearing top boots and with shawls tied round their heads, came out of the building into the courtyard where the women sat sheltered from the wind by the northern wall of the court, and vied with one another, offering their goods, hot meat pie, fish, vermicelli, buckwheat porridge, liver, beef, eggs, milk. One even had a roast pig to offer. Having bought some eggs, bread, fish, and some rusks, Mashlova was putting them into her bag while Mary Pavlovna was paying the women, when a movement arose among the convicts. All were silent and took their places. The officer came out and began giving the last orders before starting. Everything was done in the usual manner. The prisoners were counted, the chains on their legs examined, and those who were to marching couples linked together with manacles. Because suddenly the angry authoritative voice of the officer shouting something was heard. Also the sound of a blow, and the crying of a child. All were silent for a moment, and then came a hollow murmur from the crowd. Mashlova and Mary Pavlovna advanced towards the spot whence the noise proceeded. End of Chapter 1 of Book 3, Book 3, Chapter 2 of Resurrection. This is what Mary Pavlovna and Katusha saw when they came up to the scene whence the noise proceeded. The officer, a sturdy fellow, with fair mustaches, stood uttering words of foul and coarse abuse, and rubbing with his left the palm of his right hand, which he had hurt in hitting a prisoner on the face. In front of him a thin tall convict, with half his head shaved, and dressed in a cloak too short for him, and trousers much too short, stood wiping his bleed in face with one hand, and holding a little shrieking girl wrapped in a shawl with the other. I'll give it you, foul abuse. I'll teach you to reason more abuse. You're to give her to the women, shouted the officer. Now then, on with them. The convict, who was exiled by the Commune, had been carrying his little daughter all the way from Tomsk, where his wife had died of typhus, and now the officer ordered him to be manacled. The exile's explanation, that he could not carry the child if he was manacled, irritated the officer, who happened to be in a bad temper, and he gave the troublesome prisoner a beating. A fact described by Lenov in his transportation. Before the injured convict stood a convoy soldier, and a black-bearded prisoner, with manacles on one hand, and a look of gloom on his face, which he turned now to the officer, now to the prisoner, with the little girl. The officer repeated his orders for the soldiers to take away the girl. The murmur among the prisoners grew louder. All the way from Tomsk they were not put on, came a hoarse voice from someone in the rear. It's a child, and not a puppy. What's he to do with the lassie? That's not the law," said someone else. Who's that? shouted the officer, as if he had been stung, and rushed into the crowd. I'll teach you the law. Who spoke? You? You? Everybody says so, because," said a short, broad-faced prisoner. Before he had finished speaking, the officer hit him in the face. Mutiny is it? I'll show you what mutiny means. I'll have you all shot like dogs, and the authorities will be only too thankful. Take the girl!" The crowd was silent. One convoy soldier pulled away the girl, who was screaming desperately, while another manacled the prisoner, who now, submissively, held out his hand. Take her to the women, shouted the officer, arranging his sword-belt. The little girl, whose face had grown quite red, was trying to disengage her arms from under the shore, and screaming, unceasingly. Mary Pavlovna stepped out from among the crowd, and came up to the officer. Will you allow me to carry the little girl? she said. Who are you? asked the officer. A political prisoner. Mary Pavlovna's handsome face, with the beautiful, prominent eyes. He had noticed her before, when the prisoners were given into his charge. Evidently produced an effect on the officer. He looked at her in silence, as if considering, then said, I don't care, carry her if you like. It's easy for you to show pity, if he ran away, who would have to answer? How could he run away, with a child in his arms? said Mary Pavlovna. I have no time to talk with you. Take her, if you like. Shall I give her? asked the soldier. Yes, give her. Come to me, said Mary Pavlovna, trying to coax the child to come to her. But the child in the soldier's arms stretched herself towards her father, and continued to scream, and would not go to Mary Pavlovna. Wait a bit, Mary Pavlovna, said Maslova, getting a russk out of her bag. She would come to me. The girl knew Maslova, and when she saw her face and the russk, she let her take her. All was quiet, the gates were opened, and the gang stepped out. The convoy counted the prisoners over again. The bags were packed and tied onto the carts, the weak seated on the top. Maslova, with the child in her arms, took her place among the women, next to Theodosia. Simonson, who had all the time been watching what was going on, stepped with large, determined strides up to the officer, who, having given his orders, was just getting into a trap, and said, You have behaved badly. Get to your place, it is no business of yours. It is my business to tell you that you have behaved badly, and I have said it, said Simonson, looking intently into the officer's face from under his bushy eyebrows. Ready? March! the officer called out, paying no heed to Simonson, and, taking hold of the driver's shoulder, he got into the trap. The gang started, and spread out as it stepped onto the muddy high road, with ditches on each side, which passed through a dense forest. End of Chapter 3 of Book 3. Pavlovna. In spite of the hard conditions in which they were placed, life among the political prisoners seemed very good to Katusha after the depraved, luxurious, and effeminate life she had led in town for the last six years, and after two months imprisonment with criminal prisoners. The fifteen to twenty miles they did per day, with one day's rest after two days marching, strengthened her physically, and the fellowship with her new companions opened out to her a life full of interests such as she had never dreamed of. People so wonderful as she expressed it, as those whom she was now going with she had not only never met, but could not even have imagined. There now, and I cried when I was sentenced, she said, why I must thank God for it all the days of my life. I have learned to know what I never should have found out else. The motives she understood easily, and without effort, that guided these people, and being of the people fully sympathized with them. She understood that these persons were for the people and against the upper classes, and though themselves belonging to the upper classes had sacrificed their privileges, their liberty, and their lives for the people. This especially made her value and admire them. She was charmed with all the new companions, but particularly with Mary Pavlovna. And she was not only charmed with her, but loved her with a peculiar, respectful, and rapturous love. She was struck by the fact that this beautiful girl, the daughter of a rich general, who could speak three languages, gave away all that her rich brother sent her, and lived like the simplest working-girl, and dressed not only simply but poorly, paying no heed to her appearance. This trait, and a complete absence of cocker-tree, was particularly surprising, and therefore attractive to Maslova. Maslova could see that Mary Pavlovna knew, and was even pleased to know that she was handsome. And yet the effect her appearance had on men was not at all pleasing to her. She was even afraid of it, and felt an absolute disgust to all love affairs. Her men companions knew it, and if they felt attracted by her, never permitted themselves to show it to her, but treated her as they would a man. But with strangers who often molested her, the great physical strength on which she prided herself stood her in good stead. It happened once, she said to Katusha, that a man followed me in the street and would not leave me on any account. At last I gave him such a shaking that he was frightened and ran away. She became a revolutionary, as she said, because she felt a dislike to the life of the well-to-do from childhood up, and loved the life of the common people, and she was always being scolded for spending her time in the servants' hall, in the kitchen or the stables instead of the drawing-room. And I found it amusing to be with the cooks and the coachmen, and dull with our ladies and gentlemen, she said. Then when I came to understand things I saw that our life was altogether wrong. I had no mother, and I did not care for my father, and so when I was nineteen I left home, and went with a girlfriend to work as a factory hand. After she left the factory she lived in the country, then returned to town and lived in the lodging, where they had a secret printing-press. There she was arrested and sentenced to hard labour. Mary Pavlovna said nothing about it to herself. But Kutusha heard from others that Mary Pavlovna was sentenced because when the lodging was searched by the police, and one of the revolutionists fired a shot in the dark, she pleaded guilty. As soon as she had learned to know Mary Pavlovna, Kutusha noticed that whatever the conditions she found herself in, Mary Pavlovna never thought of herself, but was always anxious to serve, to help someone, in matters small or great. One of her present companions, Novodferov, said of her that she devoted herself to philanthropic amusements, and this was true. The interest of her whole life lay in the search for opportunities of serving others. This kind of amusement had become the habit, the business of her life, and she did it all so naturally that those who knew her no longer valued but simply expected of her. When Maslova first came among them, Mary Pavlovna felt repulsed and disgusted. Kutusha noticed this, but she also noticed that, having made an effort to overcome these feelings, Mary Pavlovna became particularly tender and kind to her. The tenderness and kindness of so uncommon a being touched Maslova so much that she gave her whole heart, and unconsciously accepting her views, could not help imitating her in everything. This devoted love of Kutusha touched Mary Pavlovna in her turn, and she learned to love Kutusha. These women were also united by the repulsion they both felt to sexual love, the one loathed that kind of love, having experienced all its horrors, the other never having experienced it looked on it as something incomprehensible, and at the same time as something repugnant and offensive to human dignity. End of Book 3, Chapter 3 Book 3, Chapter 4 of Resurrection. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Philip Griffiths Resurrection by Leo Tolstoy Translated by Louise Mould Book 3, Chapter 4, Simonson Mary Pavlovna's influence was one that Maslova submitted to, because she loved Mary Pavlovna. Simonson influenced her because he loved her. Everybody lived some acts, partly according to his own, partly according to other people's ideas. This is what constitutes one of the great differences among men. To some, thinking is a kind of mental gain. They treat their reason as if it were a flywheel without a connecting strap, and are guided in their actions by other people's ideas, by custom or laws. While others look upon their own ideas as the chief motive power of all their actions, and always listen to the dictates of their own reason and submit to it, accepting other people's opinions only on rare occasions and after weighing them critically. Simonson was a man of the latter sort. He settled and verified everything according to his own reason, and acted on the decisions he arrived at. When a schoolboy, he made up his mind that his father's income, made as a paymaster in government office, was dishonestly gained, and he told his father that it ought to be given to the people. When his father, instead of listening to him, gave him a scolding, he left his father's house, and would not make use of his father's means. Having come to the conclusion that all the existing misery was a result of the people's ignorance, he joined the socialists, who carried unpropaganda among the people, as soon as he left the university and got a place as a village schoolmaster. He taught and explained to his pupils and to the peasants what he considered to be just and openly blamed what he thought unjust. He was arrested and tried. During his trial he determined to tell his judges that his was a just cause for which he ought not to be tried or punished. When the judges paid no heed to his words, but went on with the trial, he decided not to answer them and kept resolutely silent when they questioned him. He was exiled to the government of Archangel. There he formulated a religious teaching which was founded on the theory that everything in the world was alive, that nothing is lifeless, and that all the objects we consider to be without life or inorganic are only parts of an enormous organic body which we cannot compass. A man's task is to sustain the life of that huge organism and all its animate parts. Therefore he was against war, capital punishment, and every kind of killing, not only of human beings, but also of animals. Concerning marriage too, he had a peculiar idea of his own. He thought that increase was a lower function of man, the highest function being to serve the already existing lives. He found a confirmation of his theory in the fact that there were phacocytes in the blood. Celebs, according to his opinion, were the same as phacocytes, their function being to help the weak and the sickly particles of the organism. From the moment he came to this conclusion he began to consider himself as Werther's Mary Pavlovna as phacocytes, and to live accordingly, though as a youth he had been addicted to vice. His love for Catoosha did not infringe this conception because he loved her platonically, and such love he considered could not hinder his activity as a phacocytes, but acted on the contrary as an inspiration. Not only moral, but also most practical questions, he decided in his own way. He applied a theory of his own to all practical business, had rules relating to the number of hours for rest and for work, to the kind of food to eat, the way to dress, to heat and light up the rooms. With all this Simonson was very shy and modest, and yet when he had once made up his mind nothing could make him waver. And this man had a decided influence on Maslova through his love for her. With a woman's instinct Maslova very soon found out that he loved her, and the fact that she could awaken love in a man of that kind raised her in her own estimation. It was Nekladov's magnanimity and what had been in the past that made him offer to marry her, but Simonson loved her such as she was now, loved her simply because of the love he bore her. And she felt that Simonson considered her to be an exceptional woman, having peculiarly high moral qualities. She did not quite know what the qualities he attributed to her were, but in order to be on the safe side, and that he should not be disappointed in her, she tried with all her might to awaken in herself all the highest qualities she could conceive, and she tried to be as good as possible. This had begun while they were still in prison, when on the common visiting day she had noticed his kindly dark blue eyes gazing fixedly at her from under his projecting brow. Even then she had noticed that this was a peculiar man, and that he was looking at her in a peculiar manner, and had also noticed a striking combination of sternness. The unruly hair and the frowning forehead gave him this appearance, with the childlike kindness and innocence of his look. She saw him again in Tomsk, where she joined the political prisoners. Though they had not uttered a word, their looks told plainly that they had understood one another. And after that they had had no serious conversation with each other, but Maslova felt that when he spoke in her presence his words were addressed to her, and that he spoke for her sake trying to express himself as plainly as he could. But it was when he started walking with the criminal prisoners that they grew specially near to one another. CHAPTER V. THE POLITICAL PRISONERS Until they left Perim, Nekladov only twice managed to see Katusha, once in Nijni, before the prisoners were embarked on a barge, surrounded by a wire netting, and again in Perim, in the prison office. At both these interviews he found her reserved and unkind. She answered his questions as to whether she was in want of anything, and whether she was comfortable, evasively and bashfully, and, as he thought, with the same feeling of hostile reproach which she had shown several times before. Her depressed state of mind, which was only the result of the molestations from the men that she was undergoing at the time, tormented Nekladov. He feared, lest, influenced by the hard and degrading circumstances in which she was placed on the journey, she should again get into that state of despair and discord with her own self, which formerly made her irritable with him, and which had caused her to drink and smoke excessively to gain oblivion. But he was unable to help her in any way during this part of the journey, as it was impossible for him to be with her. It was only when she joined the political prisoners, that he saw how unfounded his fears were, and at each interview he noticed that inner change he so strongly desired to see in her, becoming more and more marked. The first time they met in Tomsk, she was again just as she had been when leaving Moscow. She did not frown or become confused when she saw him, but met him joyfully and simply, thanking him for what he had done for her, especially for bringing her among the people with whom she now was. After two months marching with the gang, the change that had taken place within her became noticeable in her appearance. She grew sunburned and thinner, and seemed older. Wrinkles appeared on her temples and round her mouth. She had no ringlets on her forehead now, and her hair was covered with a kerchief. In the way it was arranged, as well as in her dress and her manners, there was no trace of cockatry left. And this change, which had taken place and was still progressing in her, made Nekolodov very happy. He felt for her something he had never experienced before. His feeling had nothing in common with his first poetic love for her, and even less with the sensual love that had followed, nor even with the satisfaction of a duty fulfilled, not unmixed with self-admiration, with which he decided to marry her after the trial. The present feeling was simply one of pity and tenderness. He had felt it when he met her in prison for the first time, and then again when, after conquering his repugnance, he forgave her the imagined intrigue with the medical assistant in the hospital. The injustice done her had since been discovered. It was the same feeling he now had, only with this difference, that formerly it was momentary, and that now it had become permanent. Whatever he was doing, whatever he was thinking now, a feeling of pity and tenderness dwelt with him, and not only pity and tenderness for her, but for everybody. This feeling seemed to have opened the floodgates of love, which had found no outlet in Nekolodov's soul, and the love now flowed out to everyone he met. During this journey Nekolodov's feelings were so stimulated that he could not help being attentive and considerate to everybody, from the coachmen and the convoy soldiers to the prison inspectors and governors whom he had to deal with. Now that Maslova was among the political prisoners, Nekolodov could not help becoming acquainted with many of them, first in Ekaterinburg, where they had a good deal of freedom, and were kept altogether in a large cell, and then on the road, when Maslova was marching with three of the men and four of the women. Coming in contact with political exiles in this way made Nekolodov completely change his mind concerning them. From the very beginning of the revolutionary movement in Russia, but especially since that first of March, when Alexander II was murdered, Nekolodov regarded the revolutionists with dislike and contempt. He was repulsed by the cruelty and secrecy of the methods they employed in their struggles against the government, especially the cruel murders they committed and their arrogance also disgusted him. But having learned more intimately to know them and all they had suffered at the hands of the government, he saw that they could not be other than they were. Terrible and endless as were the torments which were inflicted on the criminals, there was at least some semblance of justice shown them before and after they were sentenced. But in the case of the political prisoners, there was not even that semblance, as Nekolodov saw in the case of Sholestova and that of many and many of his new acquaintances. These people were dealt with like fish caught with a net. Everything that gets into the net is pulled ashore, and then the big fish which are required are sorted out, and the little ones are left to perish unheeded on the shore. Even captured hundreds that were evidently guiltless and that could not be dangerous to the government, they left them imprisoned for years, where they became consumptive, went out of their minds or committed suicide, and kept them only because they had no inducement to set them free, while they might be of use to elucidate some question at a judicial inquiry safe in prison. The fate of these persons, often innocent even from the government point of view, depended on the whim, the humor of or the amount of leisure at the disposal of some police officer or spy or public prosecutor or magistrate or governor or minister. Some one of these officials feels dull or inclined to distinguish himself and makes a number of arrests and in prisons or sets free according to his own fancy or that of the higher authorities. The higher official, actuated by like motives, according to whether he is inclined to distinguish himself or to what his relations to the minister are, exiles men to the other side of the world, or keeps them in solitary confinement, condemns them to Siberia, to hard labour, to death, or sets them free at the request of some lady. They were dealt with as in war, and they naturally employed the means that were used against them. And as the military men live in an atmosphere of public opinion, that not only conceals from them the guilt of their actions, but sets these actions up as feats of heroism, so these political offenders were also constantly surrounded by an atmosphere of public opinion which made the cruel actions they committed, in the face of danger and at the risk of liberty and life, and all that is dear to men, seem not wicked but glorious actions. Necladov found in this the explanation of the surprising phenomenon that to men with the mildest characters who seemed incapable of witnessing the sufferings of any living creature, much less of inflicting pain, quietly prepared to murder men, nearly all of them considering murder lawful and just on certain occasions as a means for self-defense, for the attainment of higher aims, or for the general welfare. The importance they attribute to their cause, and consequently to themselves, flowed naturally from the importance the government attached to their actions, and the cruelty of the punishments it inflicted on them. When Necladov came to know them better, he became convinced that they were not the right-downed villains that some imagined them to be, nor the complete heroes that others thought them, but ordinary people, just the same as others, among whom there were some good and some bad, and some mediocre, as there are everywhere. There were some among them who had turned revolutionists, because they honestly considered it their duty to fight the existing evils. But there were also those who chose this work for selfish, ambitious motives. The majority, however, was attracted to the revolutionary idea by the desire for danger, for risks, the enjoyment of playing with one's life, which, as Necladov knew from his military experiences, is quite common to the most ordinary people while they are young and full of energy. But wherein they differed from ordinary people, was that their moral standard was a higher one than that of ordinary men. They considered not only self-control, hard-living, truthfulness, but also the readiness to sacrifice everything, even life, for the common welfare as their duty. Therefore the best among them stood on a moral level that is not often reached, while the worst were far below the ordinary level, many of them being untruthful, hypocritical, and at the same time self-satisfied and proud, so that Necladov learned not only to respect but to love some of his new acquaintances, while he remained more than indifferent to others. CHAPTER VI. Necladov grew especially fond of Kryltsov, a consumptive young man condemned to hard labour, who was going with the same gang as Katusha. Necladov had made his acquaintance already in Ekaterinburg, and talked with him several times on the road after that. Once in summer Necladov spent nearly the whole of a day with him at a halting station, and Kryltsov, having once started talking, told him his story and how he had become a revolutionist. Up to the time of his imprisonment his story was soon told. He lost his father, a rich, landed proprietor in the south of Russia, when still a child. He was the only son and his mother brought him up. He learned easily in the university as well as the gymnasium, and was first in the mathematical faculty in his year. He was offered a choice of remaining in the university or going abroad. He hesitated. He loved a girl, and was thinking of marriage, and taking part in the rural administration. He did not like giving up either offer, and could not make up his mind. At this time his fellow students at the university asked him for money for a common cause. He did not know that this common cause was revolutionary, which he was not interested in at that time, but gave the money from a sense of comradeship and vanity, so that it should not be said that he was afraid. Those who received the money were caught, a note was found which proved that the money had been given by Kryltsov. He was arrested, and first kept at the police station, then imprisoned. The prison where I was put, Kryltsov went on to relate. He was sitting on the high shelf bedstead, his elbows on his knees with sunken chest, the beautiful intelligent eyes with which he looked at Nekladov glistening feverishly. They were not specially strict in that prison. We managed to converse, not only by tapping the wall, but could walk about the corridors, share our provisions and our tobacco, and in the evenings we even sang in chorus. I had a fine voice. Yes, if it had not been for mother it would have been all right, even pleasant and interesting. Here I made the acquaintance of the famous Petrov. He afterwards killed himself with a piece of glass at the fortress, and also of others, but I was not yet a revolutionary. I also became acquainted with my neighbours in the cells next to mine. They were both caught with Polish proclamations, and arrested in the same calls, and were tried for an attempt to escape from the convoy when they were being taken to the railway station. One was a pole, Lozinskiy, the other a Jew, Rozovskiy. Yes, well, this Rozovskiy was quite a boy. He said he was seventeen, but he looked fifteen, thin, small, active, with black sparkling eyes, and like most Jews very musical. His voice was still breaking, and yet he sounded beautifully. Yes, I saw them both taken to be tried. They were taken in the morning, they returned in the evening, and said they were condemned to death. No one had expected it. Their case was so unimportant. They only tried to get away from the convoy, and had not even wounded any one. Then it was so unnatural to execute such a charred as Rozovskiy. And we in prison all came to the conclusion that it was only done to frighten them, and would not be confirmed. At first we were excited, and then we comforted ourselves, and life went on as before. Yes, well, one evening a watchman comes to my door and mysteriously announces to me that carpenters had arrived and were putting up the gallows. At first I did not understand. What's that? What gallows? For the watchman was so excited that I saw at once it was for hour two. I wished to tap and communicate with my comrades, but was afraid those two would hear. The comrades were also silent. Evidently, everybody knew. In the corridors and in the cells, everything was as still as death all that evening. They did not tap the wall nor sing. At ten the watchman came in again and announced that a hangman had arrived from Moscow. He said it and went away. I began calling him back. Suddenly I hear Rozovskiy shouting to me across the corridor. What's the matter? Why do you call him? I answered something about asking him to get me some tobacco, but he seemed to guess and asked me, Why did we not sing to-night? Why did we not tap the walls? I do not remember what I said, but I went away, so as not to speak to him. Yes, it was a terrible night. I listened to every sound all night. Suddenly towards morning I hear doors opening and somebody walking, many persons. I went up to my window. There was a lamp burning in the corridor. The first to pass was the inspector. He was stout and seemed a resolute, self-satisfied man, but he looked ghastly pale, downcast and seemed frightened. Then his assistant, frowning but resolute. Behind them the watchman. They passed my door and stopped at the next, and I hear the assistant calling out in a strange voice, Rozovskiy, get up and put on clean linen. Yes, then I hear the creaking of the door. They entered into his cell. Then I hear Rozovskiy's steps going to the opposite side of the corridor. I could only see the inspector. He stood quite pale and buttoned and unbuttoned his coat, shrugging his shoulders. Yes. Then, as if frightened of something, he moved out of the way. It was Lozinskiy who passed him and came up to my door. A handsome young fellow he was, you know, of that nice Polish type, broad-shouldered, his head covered with fine, fair, curly hair, as with a cap, and with beautiful blue eyes. So blooming, so fresh, so healthy. He stopped in front of my window so that I could see the whole of his face. A dreadful, gaunt, livid face. Grills off, have you seen any cigarettes? I wished to pass him some, but the assistant hurriedly pulled out his cigarette case and passed it to him. He took out one, the assistant struck a match, and he lit the cigarette and began to smoke and seemed to be thinking. Then, as if he had remembered something, he began to speak. It is cruel and unjust. I have committed no crime. I saw something quiver in his white, young throat, from which I could not take my eyes. And he stopped. Yes. At that moment I hear Lozinskiy shouting in his fine Jewish voice. Lozinskiy threw away the cigarette and stepped from the door, and Lozinskiy appeared at the window. His childish face, with the limpid black eyes, was red and moist. He also had cleaned in and on. The trousers were too wide, and he kept pulling them up and trembled all over. He approached his pitiful face to my window. Grills off, is true that the doctor has prescribed cough mixture for me. Is it not? I am not well. I will take some more of the mixture. No one answered, and he looked inquiringly. Now it's me, now it's the Inspector. What he meant to say, I never made out. Yes. Suddenly the assistant again put on a stern expression and called out, in a kind of squeaking tone. Now then, no nonsense, let us go. Lozinskiy seemed incapable of understanding what awaited him, and Hurrid almost ran in front of him along the corridor. But then he drew back, and I could hear his shrill voice and his cries. Between the trampling of feet and General Hubbub, he was shrieking and sobbing. The sounds came fainter and fainter, and at last the door rattled, and all was quiet. Yes. And so they hanged them, throttled them both with a rope. A watchman, another one, saw it done, and told me that Lozinskiy did not resist, but Rezovskyy struggled for a long time, so that they had to pull him up onto the scaffold and to force his head into the noose. Yes. This watchman was a stupid fellow. He said, they told me, sir, that it would be frightful, but it was not at all frightful. After they were hanged, they only shrugged their shoulders twice, like this. He showed how the shoulders convulsively rose and fell. Then the hangman pulled a bit so as to tighten the noose, and it was all up, and they never budged. And Kriltsov repeated the watchman's words, not at all frightful, and tried to smile, but burst into sobs instead. For a long time after that, he kept silent, breathing heavily, and repressing the sobs that were choking him. From that time I became a revolutionist. Yes, he said, when he was quieter, and finished his story in a few words. He belonged to the Narodov-Voltsy party, and was even at the head of the disorganising group, whose object was to terrorise the government, so that it should give up its power of its own accord. With this object he travelled to Petersburg, to Kiev, to Odessa, and abroad, and was everywhere successful. A man in whom he had full confidence betrayed him. He was arrested, tried, kept in prison for two years, and condemned to death, but the sentence was mitigated to one of hard labour for life. He went into consumption while in prison, and in the conditions he was now placed, he had scarcely more than a few months longer to live. This he knew, but did not repent of his actions, but said that if he had another life he would use it in the same way, to destroy the conditions in which such things as he had seen were possible. This man's story, and his intimacy with him, explained to Nicoladov much that he had not previously understood. End of chapter 6 of book 3. Book 3, chapter 7 of Resurrection. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by David Cole, Medway, Massachusetts. On the day when the convoy officer had the encounter with the prisoners at the halting station about the child, Nicoladov, who had spent the night at the village inn, woke up late, and was some time writing letters to post to the next government town, so that he left for the next government town, so that he would not have to go to the next government town. So that he left the inn later than usual, and did not catch up with the gang on the road, as he had done previously, but came to the village where the next halting station was, as it was growing dusk. Having dried himself at the inn, which was kept by an elderly woman who had an extraordinarily fat white neck, he had his tea in a clean room, decorated with a great number of icons and pictures, and then hurried away to the halting station to ask the officer for an interview with Katusha. At the last six halting stations, he could not get the permission for an interview from any of the officers. Though they had been chained several times, not one of them would allow Nicoladov inside the halting stations, so that he had not seen Katusha for more than a week. This strictness was occasioned by the fact that an important prison official was expected to pass that way. Now this official had passed without looking in at the gang, after all, and Nicoladov hoped that the officer who had taken charge of the gang in the morning would allow him an interview with the prisoners, as former officers had done. The landlady offered Nicoladov a trap to drive him to the halting station, situated at the farther end of the village, but Nicoladov preferred to walk. A young labourer, a broad-shouldered young fellow of herculean dimensions, with enormous top-boots freshly blackened with strongly-smelling tar, offered himself as a guide. A dense mist obscured the sky, and it was so dark that when the young fellow was three steps in advance of him, Nicoladov could not see him, unless the light of some window happened to fall on the spot, but he could hear the heavy boots wading through the deep, sticky slush. After passing the open place in front of the church and the long street, with its rows of windows shining brightly in the darkness, Nicoladov followed his guide to the outskirts of the village, where it was pitch-black. But soon here, too, rays of light streaming through the mist from the lamps in the front of the halting station became discernible through the darkness. The reddish spots of light grew bigger and bigger. At last the stakes of the palisade, the moving figure of the sentinel, a post painted with white and black stripes, and the sentinel's box became visible. The sentinel called his usual, who goes there, as they approached, and seeing they were strangers, treated them with such civility that he would not allow them to wait by the palisade, but Nicoladov's guide was not abashed by this civility. Hello, lad, why so fierce? You go and rouse your boss while we wait here. The sentinel gave no answer, but shouted something in at the gate, and stood looking at the broad-shouldered young labourer, scraping the mud off Nicoladov's boots with a chip of wood by the light of the lamp. From behind the palisade came the hum of male and female voices. In about three minutes more, as something rattled, the gate opened, and a sergeant, with his cloak thrown over his shoulders, stepped out of the darkness into the lamp-light. The sergeant was not as strict as the sentinel, but he was extremely inquisitive. He insisted on knowing what Nicoladov wanted the officer for, and who he was, evidently sending his booty, an anxious not to let it escape. Nicoladov said he had come on special business, and would show his gratitude, and would the sergeant take a note for him to the officer. The sergeant took the note, nodded and went away. Sometime after the gate rattled again, and women carrying baskets, boxes, jugs, and sacks came out, loudly chattering in their peculiar, Siberian dialect as they stepped over the threshold of the gate. None of them wore peasant costumes, but were dressed town fashion, wearing jackets and fur-lined cloaks. Their skirts were tucked up high, and their heads wrapped up in shawls. They examined Nicoladov and his guide curiously by the light of the lamp. One of them showed evident pleasure at the sight of the broad-shouldered fellow, and affectionately administered to him a dose of Siberian abuse. "'You demon, what are you doing here? The devil take you,' she said, addressing him. "'I've been showing this traveller here the way,' answered the young fellow. "'And what have you been bringing here?' "'Deary produce, and I am to bring more in the morning.' The guide said something in answer that made not only the women, but even the sentinel laugh, and turning to Nicoladov he said, "'You'll find your way alone. Won't get lost, will you? "'I shall find it all right. "'When you have passed the church, it's the second from the two-storied house. "'Oh, and here, take my staff,' he said, "'handing the stick he was carrying, and which was longer than himself, "'to Nicoladov, and splashing through the mud with these enormous boots, "'he disappeared in the darkness, together with the women. "'His voice, mingling with the voices of the women, "'were still audible through the fog, "'when the gate again rattled, "'and the sergeant appeared, and asked Nicoladov "'to follow him to the officer.' End of Book 3, Chapter 7, Book 3, Chapter 8 of Resurrection. "'This is a LibriVox recording, "'all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. "'For more information or to volunteer, "'please visit LibriVox.org.' Recording by David Cole, Medway, Massachusetts. Resurrection by Leo Tolstoy. Translated by Louise Mord. Book 3, Chapter 8, Nicoladov and the Officer. "'This halting station, like all such stations "'along the Siberian Road, "'was surrounded by a courtyard, "'fenced in with a palisade of sharp-pointed stakes, "'and consisted of three one-storied houses. "'One of them, the largest, with grated windows, "'was for the prisoners, another for the convoy soldiers, "'and the third in which the office was for the officers. "'There were lights in the windows of all the three houses, "'and like all such lights, they promised, "'here in a specially deceptive manner, "'something cozy inside the walls. "'Lamps were burning before the porches of the houses, "'and about five lamps more along the walls lit up the yard. "'The sergeant led Nicoladov along a plank "'which lay across the yard, "'up to the porch of the smallest of the houses. "'When he had gone up the three steps of the porch, "'he let Nicoladov pass before him into the anti-room, "'in which a small lamp was burning, "'in which was filled with smoky fumes. "'By the stove a soldier in a coarse shirt "'with a necktie and black trousers, "'and with one top-boot on, "'stood blowing the charcoal in a Samovar, "'using the other boot as bellows. "'Note, the long boots worn in Russia "'have concertina-like sides, "'and when held to the chimney of the Samovar "'used instead of bellows "'to make the charcoal inside burn up. "'Note, when he saw Nicoladov, "'the soldier left the Samovar "'and helped him off with his waterproof, "'then went into the inner room. "'He has come, Your Honor. "'Well, ask him in,' came an angry voice. "'Come in at the doors of the soldier "'and went back to the Samovar. "'In the next room an officer with fair mustaches "'and a very red face, "'dressed in an Austrian jacket "'that closely fitted his broad chest and shoulders, "'satt at a covered table, "'on which were the remains of his dinner and two bottles. "'There was a strong smell of tobacco "'and some very strung, cheap scent in the warm room. "'On seeing Nicoladov, "'the officer rose and gazed ironically and suspiciously "'as it seemed at the newcomer. "'What is it you want?' he asked, "'and not waiting for a reply. "'He shouted through the open door, "'Burn off the Samovar! "'What are you about?' "'Coming at once. "'You'll get it at once "'so that you'll remember it, shouted the officer, "'and his eyes flashed. "'I'm coming,' shouted the soldier, "'and brought in the Samovar. "'Necoladov waited while the soldier "'placed the Samovar on the table. "'When the officer had followed the soldier "'out of the room with his cruel little eyes "'looking as if they were aiming where best to hit him, "'he made the tea, "'got the four-cornered decanter out of his travelling case, "'and some Albert biscuits, "'and having placed all this on the cloth, "'he again turned to Nicoladov. "'Well, how can I be of service to you?' "'I should like to be allowed to visit a prisoner,' said Nicoladov, without sitting down. "'A political one? "'It's forbidden by the law,' said the officer. "'The woman, I mean, is not a political prisoner,' said Nicoladov. "'Yes, but pray take a seat,' said the officer.' Nicoladov sat down. "'She is not a political one, "'but at my request, she has been allowed "'by the higher authorities to join the political prisoners. "'Oh, yes, I know,' interrupted the other. "'A little dark one. "'Well, yes, that can be managed. "'Won't you smoke?' He moved a box of cigarettes towards Nicoladov, and having carefully poured out two tumblers of tea, he passed one to Nicoladov. "'If you please,' he said. "'Thank you, I should like to see. "'The night is long. You'll have plenty of time. "'I shall order her to be sent out to you. "'But could I not see her where she is? "'Why need she be sent for?' Nicoladov said. "'Into the political prisoners, "'it is against the law. "'I have been allowed to go in several times. "'If there is any danger of my passing anything into them, "'I could do it to her just as well. "'Oh, no, she would be searched, said the officer, "'and laughed in an unpleasant manner. "'Well, why not search me?' "'All right, we'll manage without that,' said the officer, opening the decanter, and holding it out towards Nicoladov's tumbler of tea. "'May I know? Well, just as you like. "'When you are living here in Siberia, "'you are too glad to meet an educated person. "'Our work, as you know, is the saddest, "'and when one is used to better things, it is very hard. "'The idea they have of us "'is that convoy offers us a course on educated men, "'and no one seems to remember "'that we may have been born for a very different position.'" This officer's red face, his sense, his rings, and especially his unpleasant laughter, disgusted Nicoladov very much. But today, as during the whole of his journey, he was in that serious attentive state, which did not allow him to behave slightingly or disdainfully towards any man, but made him feel the necessity of speaking to everyone entirely as he expressed to himself this relation to men. When he had heard the officer and understood his state of mind, he said in a serious manner, "'I think that in your position, too, "'some comfort could be found "'in helping the suffering people,' he said. "'What are their sufferings? "'You don't know what these people are.'" "'They are not special people,' said Nicoladov. "'They are just such people as others, "'and some of them are quite innocent. "'Of course there are all sorts among them "'and naturally one pities them. "'Others won't let anything off, "'but I try to lighten their condition where I can. "'It's better that I should suffer, "'but not they. "'Others keep to the law in every detail, "'even as far as to shoot, "'but I show pity. "'May I take another?' he said, "'and pour out another tumbler of tea for Nicoladov. "'And who is she, this woman that you want to see?' he asked. "'It is an unfortunate woman "'who got into a brothel "'and was there falsely accused of poisoning, "'and she is a very good woman,' Nicoladov answered. "'The officer shook his head. "'Yes, it does happen. "'I can tell you about a certain Emma who lived in Kazan. "'She was a Hungarian by birth, "'but she had quite Persian eyes,' he continued, "'unable to restrain a smile at the recollection. "'There was so much sheik about her that it countess.' Nicoladov interrupted the officer and returned to the form a topic of conversation. "'I think that you could lighten the condition of the people "'while they are in your charge. "'And in acting that way, "'I'm sure you would find great joy,' said Nicoladov, "'trying to pronounce as distinctly as possible "'as he might if talking to a foreigner or a child. "'The officer looked at Nicoladov impatiently, "'waiting for him to stop "'so as to continue the tale about the Hungarian with Persian eyes, "'who evidently presented herself very vividly to his imagination "'and quite absorbed his attention. "'Of course this is all quite true,' he said, "'and I do pity them, "'but I should like to tell you about Emma. "'What do you think she did?' "'It does not interest me,' said Nicoladov, "'and I will tell you straight "'that though I was myself very different at one time, "'I now hate that kind of relation to women.' The officer gave Nicoladov a frightened look. "'Won't you take some more tea?' he said. "'No, thank you.' "'Burn off,' the officer called. "'Take the gentleman to Vakalov. "'Tell him to let him into the separate political room. "'He may remain there till the inspection.'" End of Book 3, Chapter 8 Book 3, Chapter 9 of Resurrection This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by David Cole, Medway, Massachusetts Resurrection by Leo Tolstoy Translated by Louise Maud Book 3, Chapter 9 The Political Prisoners Accompanied by the orderly, Nicoladov went out into the courtyard, which was dimly near top by the red light of the lamps. "'Where to?' asked the convoy sergeant, addressing the orderly. "'Into the separate cell, Number 5. "'You can't pass here. "'The boss has gone to the village and taken the keys. "'Well then, pass this way.'" The soldier led Nicoladov along aboard to another entrance. While still in the yard, Nicoladov could hear the dinner voices and general commotion going on inside as in a beehive when the bees are prepared to swarm. But when he came nearer and the door opened, the din grew louder and changed into distinct sounds of shouting, abuse, and laughter. He heard the clatter of chairs and smelt the well-known foul air. This dinner voices and the clatter of the chairs together with a close smell, always flowed into one tormenting sensation, and produced in Nicoladov a feeling of moral nausea which grew into physical sickness, the two feelings mingling with and heightening each other. The first thing Nicoladov saw on entering was a large, stinking tub, a corridor into which several doors opened led from the entrance. The first was the family room, then the bachelor's room, and at the very end two small rooms were set apart for the political prisoners. The buildings which were arranged to hold one hundred and fifty prisoners, now that there were four hundred and fifty inside, were so crowded that the prisoners could not all get into the rooms but filled the passage too. Some were sitting or lying on the floor, some were going out with empty teapots or bringing them back filled with boiling water. Among the latter was Tarras. He overtook Nicoladov and greeted him affectionately. The kind face of Tarras was disfigured by dark bruises on his nose and under his eye. What has happened to you, asked Nicoladov. Yes, something did happen, Tarras said with a smile. All because of the woman, added a prisoner, who followed Tarras. He's had a row with blind fetka, and housed the adosier. She's all right. Here I am bringing her the water for her tea, Tarras answered, and went into the family room. Nicoladov looked in at the door. The room was crowded with women and men, some of whom were on and some under the bedsteads. It was full of steam from the wet clothes that were drying, and the chatter of women's voices was unceasing. The next door led into the bachelor's room. This room was still more crowded. Even the doorway and the passage in front of it were blocked by a noisy crowd of men in wet garments, busy doing or deciding something or other. The convoy sergeant explained that he was the prisoner appointed to buy provisions, paying off out of the food money what was owing to a sharper, who had won from or lent money to the prisoners, and receiving back little tickets made of playing cards. When they saw the convoy soldier and a gentleman, those who were nearest became silent and followed them with looks of ill will. Among them Nicoladov noticed the criminal Fedorov, whom he knew, and who always kept a miserable lad with a swelled appearance and raised eyebrows beside him, and also a disgusting, noseless, pockmarked tramp who was notorious among the prisoners because he killed his comrade in the marshes while trying to escape and had, as it was rumoured, fed on his flesh. The tramp stood in the passage with his wet cloak thrown over one shoulder, looking mockingly and boldly at Nicoladov, and did not move out of the way. Nicoladov passed him by. Though this kind of scene had now become quite familiar to him, though he had during the last three months seen these 400 criminal prisoners over and over again in many different circumstances, in the heat enveloped in clouds of dust which they raised as they dragged their chain-feet along the road, and at the resting places by the way, where the most horrible scenes of bare-faced debauchery had occurred, yet every time he came among them and felt their attention fixed upon him as it was now, shame and consciousness if he sinned against them to amend it to him. To this sense of shame and guilt was added an unconquerable feeling of loathing and horror. He knew that, placed in a position such as theirs, they could not be other than they were, and yet he was unable to stifle his disgust. It is well for them do-nothings, Nicoladov heard someone say in a hoarse voice as he approached the room of the political prisoners. Then followed a word of scene abuse and spiteful mocking laughter. End of Book 3, Chapter 9 Book 3, Chapter 10 of Resurrection This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by David Cole Medway, Massachusetts Resurrection by Leo Tolstoy Translated by Louise Mord Book 3, Chapter 10 Makar Defkin When they had passed the bachelor's room, the sergeant to accompanied Nicoladov left him, promising to come for him before the inspection would take place. As soon as the sergeant was gone, a prisoner, quickly stepping with his bare feet and holding up the chains, came close up to Nicoladov, enveloping him in the strong acid smell of perspiration, and said in a mysterious whisper, Help the lad, sir, he's got into an awful mess. Been drinking. Today he's given his name as Karmanov at the inspection. Take his pot, sir, we dare not, or they'll kill us. And looking on easily around, he turned away. This is what had happened. The criminal Karmanov had persuaded a young fellow who resembled him in appearance and was sentenced to exile to change names with him and go to the mines instead of him, while he only went to exile. Nicoladov knew all this. Some convict had told him about this exchange the week before. He nodded as a sign that he understood and would do what was in his power and continued his way without looking around. Nicoladov knew this convict and was surprised by his action. When at Ekaterinburg the convict had asked Nicoladov to get a permission for his wife to follow him. The convict was a man of medium size and of the most ordinary peasant type about thirty years old. He was condemned to hard labour for an attempt to murder and rob. His name was Makar Adefkin. His crime was a very curious one. In the account he gave Nicoladov he said it was not his, but his devil's doing. He said that a traveller had come to his father's house and hired his sledge to drive him to a village thirty miles off for two rubles. Makar's father told him to drive the stranger. Makar harnessed the horse, dressed and sat down to drink tea with the stranger. The stranger related at the tea table that he was going to be married and had five hundred rubles which he had earned in Moscow with him. When he had heard this Makar went out into the yard and put an axe into the sledge under the straw and I did not myself know why I was taking the axe he said. Take the axe as he and I took it. We got in and started. We drove along all right. I even forgot about the axe. Well, we were getting near the village only about four miles more to go. The way from the cross-road to the high-road was uphill and I got out. I walked behind the sledge and he whispers to me, What are you thinking about? When you get to the top of the hill you will meet people along the highway and then there will be the village. He will carry the money away. If you mean to do it, now is the time. I stooped over the sledge as if to arrange the straw and the axe seemed to jump into my hand of itself. The man turned round. What are you doing? I lifted the axe and tried to knock him down and it was quick. Jumped out and took hold of my hands. What are you doing, you villain? He threw me down into the snow and I did not even struggle but gave in at once. He bound my arms with his girdle and threw me into the sledge and took me straight to the police station. I was imprisoned and tried. The commune gave me a good character, said that I was a good man but nothing wrong had been noticed about me. The masters for whom I worked also spoke well of me but we had no money to engage a lawyer and so I was condemned to four years' hard labour. It was this man who, wishing to save a fellow villager, knowing that he was risking his life thereby, told Neckladoff the prisoner's secret for doing which, if found out, he should certainly be throttled. End of Book 3, Chapter 10 Book 3, Chapter 11 of Resurrection This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by David Cole Medway, Massachusetts Resurrection by Leo Tolstoy Translated by Louise Mord Book 3, Chapter 11 Maslova and Her Companions The political prisoners were kept in two small rooms, the doors of which opened into a part of the passage partitioned off from the rest. The first person Neckladoff saw on entering into this part of the passage was Simonson in his rubber jacket and with a log of pine wood in his hands, crouching in front of a stove, the door of which trembled, drawn in by the heat inside. When he saw Neckladoff, he looked up at him from under his protruding brow and gave him in his hand without rising. I am glad you have come. I want to speak to you, he said, looking Neckladoff straight in the eyes with an expression of importance. Yes, what is it Neckladoff asked? It will do later on. I am busy just now and Simonson turned again towards the stove which he was heating according to a theory of his own so as to lose as little heat energy as possible. Neckladoff was going to enter in at the first door when Maslova, stooping and pushing a large heap of rubbish and dust towards the stove with a handless birch broom came out of the other. She had a white jacket on, her skirt was tucked up and a kerchief, drawn down to her eyebrows, protected her hair from the dust. When she saw Neckladoff, she drew herself up, flushing and animated, put down the broom, wiped her hands on her skirt and stopped right in front of him. Looking up the apartment I see, said Neckladoff shaking hands. Yes, my old occupation, and she smiled. But the dirt! You can't imagine what it is. We have been cleaning and cleaning. Well, is the plaid dry? She asked, turning to Simonson. Almost Simonson answered, giving her a strange look which struck Neckladoff. All right, I'll come for it and we'll bring the cloaks to dry. Our people are all in here, she said to Neckladoff, pointing to the first door as she went out of the second. Neckladoff opened the door and entered a small room, dimly lit by a little metal lamp, which was standing low down on the shelf bedstead. It was cold in the room and there was a smell of the dust which had not had time to settle, damp and tobacco smoke. Only those who were close to the lamp were clearly visible. The bedsteads were in the shade and the wavering shadows glided over the walls. Two men, appointed as catras, who had gone to fetch boiling water and provisions, were away. Most of the political prisoners were gathered together in the small room. There was Neckladoff's old acquaintance, Vera Dukovar, with her large frightened eyes and the swollen vein on her forehead, in a grey jacket with short hair and thinner and yellower than ever. She had a newspaper spread out in front of her and sat rolling cigarettes with a jerky movement of her hands. Emily Rintsaver, whom Neckladoff considered to be the pleasantest of the political prisoners, was also here. She looked after the housekeeping and managed to spread a feeling of home comfort even in the midst of the most trying surroundings. She sat beside the lamp with her sleeves rolled up, wiping cups and mugs and placing them with her deft, red and sunburned hands on a cloth that was spread on the bedstead. Rintsaver was a plain-looking young woman with a clever and mild expression of face which, when she smiled, had a way of suddenly becoming merry, animated and captivating. It was with such a smile that she now welcomed Neckladoff. Why? We thought you had gone back to Russia, she said. Here in the dark corner was also Mary Pavlovna, busy with a little fair-haired girl who kept prattling in her sweet childish accents. How nice that you have come, she said to Neckladoff. Have you seen Kutusha? And we have a visitor here, and she pointed to the little girl. Here was also Anatole Krilsov with felt boots on, sitting in a far corner with his feet under him, doubled up in shivering, his arms folded in the sleeves of his cloak and looking at Neckladoff with feverish eyes. Neckladoff was going up to him, but to the right of the door a man with spectacles and reddish curls, dressed in a rubber jacket, with a pretty smiling grabetts. This was a celebrated revolutionist, Novod Varov. Neckladoff hastened to greet him. He was in a particular hurry about it, because this man was the only one among all the political prisoners whom he disliked. Novod Varov's eyes glistened through his spectacles as he looked at Neckladoff and held his narrow hand out to him. Well, are you having a pleasant journey, he asked, with apparent irony? Yes, there is much that is interesting, Neckladoff answered, as if he did not notice the irony, but took the question for politeness and passed on to Kriltoff. Though Neckladoff appeared indifferent, he was really far from indifferent, and these words of Novod Varov, showing his evident desire to say or do something unpleasant, interfered with the state of kindness in which Neckladoff found himself, and he felt depressed and sad. Well, how are you, he asked, pressing Kriltoff cold and trembling hand. Pretty well, only I cannot get warm. I got wet through, Kriltoff answered, quickly replacing his hands into the sleeves of his cloak, and here it is also beastly cold. Look there, the window-pains are broken, and he pointed to the broken paints behind the iron bars. And how are you? Why did you not come? I was not allowed to. The authorities were so strict, but today the officer is lenient. Lenient indeed, Kriltoff remarked, asked Mary what she did this morning. Mary Palovna, from her place in the corner, related what had happened about the little girl that morning when they left the halting station. I think it is absolutely necessary to make a collective protest, said Vera Dukova, in a determined tone, and yet looking now at one, now at another, with a frightened undecided look. Valdemar Semenson did protest, but that is not sufficient. What protests, what a Kriltoff, cross and frowning. Her want of simplicity, artificial tone, and nervousness had evidently been irritating him for a long time. Are you looking for Katusha, he asked, addressing Nekledov. She is working all the time. She has cleaned this, the men's room, and now she has gone to clean the women's. Only it is not possible to clean away the fleas. And what is Mary doing there, he asked, nodding towards the corner where Mary Polovna sat. She is combing out her adopted daughter's hair, replied Rinseva. But won't she let the insects loose on us, asked Kriltoff. No, no, I am very careful. She is a clean little girl now. You take her, said Mary, turning to Rinseva, while I go and help Katusha. And I will also bring him his plaid. Rinseva took the little girl on her lap, pressing her plump bare little arms to her bosom with a mother's tenderness and gave her a bit of sugar. As Mary Polovna left the room, two men came in with boiling water and provisions. End of Book 3, Chapter 11, Book 3, Chapter 12 of Resurrection. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings were in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by David Cole Medway, Massachusetts. Resurrection by Leo Tolstoy. Translated by Louise Maud. Book 3, Chapter 12, Nabotov and Markel. One of the men who came in was a short, thin, young man who had a cloth-covered sheepskin coat on and high-top boots. He stepped lightly and quickly, carrying two steaming teapots and holding a loaf wrapped in a cloth under his arm. Well, so our prince has put in an appearance again, he said, as he placed the teapot beside the cups and handed the bread to Rinseva. We have bought wonderful things, he continued, as he took off his sheepskin and flung it over the heads of the others into the corner of the bed-stead. Markel has bought milk and eggs. Why, we'll have a regular ball today. And Rinseva is spreading out her aesthetic cleanliness, he said, and looked with a smile at Rinseva, and now she will make the tea. The whole presence of this man, his motion, his voice, his look, seemed to breathe vigor and measurement. The other newcomer was just the reverse of the first. He looked despondent and sad. He was short, bony, had very prominent cheekbones, a shallow complexion, thin lips and beautiful greenish eyes, rather far apart. He wore an old wadded coat, top boots and galoshes, and was carrying two pots of milk and two round boxes made of birch bark which he placed in front of Rinseva. He bowed to Nekledov, bending only his neck and with his eyes fixed on him. Then, having reluctantly given him his damp hand to shake, he began to take out the provisions. Both these political prisoners were of the people. The first was Nabotov, a peasant. The second, Markov, Kondratyev, a factory hand. Markov did not come among the revolutionists till he was quite a man. Nabotov only eighteen. After leaving the village school, owing to his exceptional talents, Nabotov entered the gymnasium and maintained himself by giving lessons all the time he studied there and obtained the gold medal. He did not go to the university because, while still in the seventh class of the gymnasium, he made up his mind to go among the people and enlighten his neglected brethren. This he did, first getting the place of a government clerk in a large village. He was soon arrested because he read to the peasants and arranged a cooperative industrial association among them. They kept him imprisoned for eight months and then set him free, but he remained under police supervision. As soon as he was liberated, he went to another village, got a place as schoolmaster, and did the same as he had done in the first village. He was again taken up and kept fourteen months in prison, where his convictions became yet stronger. After that he was exiled to the Perm government from where he escaped. Then he was put in prison for seven months and after that exiled to Ark Angel. There he refused to take the oath of allegiance that was required of them and was condemned to be exiled to the Takut government, so that half his life since he reached manhood was passed in prison and exile. All these adventures did not embitter him nor weaken his energy, but rather stimulated it. He was a lively young fellow with a splendid digestion, always active, gay and vigorous. He never repented of anything, never looked far ahead and used all his powers, his cleverness, his practical knowledge to act in the present. When free he worked towards the aim he had set himself, the enlightening and the uniting of the working men, especially the country labourers. When in prison he was just as energetic and practical in finding means to come in contact with the outer world and in arranging his own life and the life of his group as comfortably as the conditions would allow. Above all things he was a communist. He wanted, as it seemed to him, nothing for himself and contented himself with very little but demanded very much for the group of his comrades and could work for it either physically or mentally, day and night, without sleep or food. As a peasant he had been industrious, observant, clever at his work and naturally self-controlled, polite without any effort and attentive not only to the wishes but also the opinions of others. His widowed mother, an illiterate, superstitious, old peasant woman was still living and Nabotov helped her and went to see her while he was free. During the time he spent at home he entered into all the interest of his mother's life, helped her in her work and continued his intercourse with former playfellows. Smoked cheap tobacco with them in so-called dog-sweet. Note a kind of cigarette that the peasant smoke made of a bit of paper and bent at one end into a hook. End note. Took part in their fistfights and explained to them how they were all being deceived by the state and how they ought to disentangle themselves out of the deception they were kept in. When he thought or spoke of what a revolution would do for the people he always imagined this people from whom he had sprung himself left in very nearly the same conditions as they were in only with sufficient land and without the gentry and without officials. The revolution according to him and in this he differed from Nabotovov and Nabotovov's follower Markel Kondratiev should not alter the elementary forms of the life of the people, should not break down the whole edifice but should only alter the inner walls of the beautiful strung enormous old structure he loved so dearly. He was also a typical peasant in his views on religion never thinking about metaphysical questions about the origin of all origin or the future life. God was to him as also to Arago an hypothesis which he had had no need of up to now. He had no business with the origin of the world whether Moses or Darwin was right. Darwinism which seemed so important to his fellows was only the same kind of plaything of the mind as the creation in six days. The question how the world had originated did not interest him just because the question how it would be best to live in this world was ever before him. He never thought about future life always bearing in the depth of his soul the firm and quiet conviction inherited from his forefathers and common to all labourers on the land that just as in the world of plants and animals nothing ceases to exist but continually changes its form the manure into grain the grain into a food the tadpole into a frog the caterpillar into a butterfly the acorn into an oak so man also does not perish but only undergoes a change he believed in this and therefore always looked death straight in the face and bravely bore the sufferings that lead towards it but did not care and did not know how to speak about it he loved work was always employed in some practical business and put his comrades in the way of the same kind of practical work the other political prisoner from among the people Markal Kondratyev was a very different kind of man he began to work at the age of fifteen and took to smoking and drinking in order to stifle a dense sense of being wronged he first realised he was wronged one Christmas when they the factory children were invited to a Christmas tree got up by the employer's wife where he received a farting whistle an apple a gilt walnut and a fig while the employer's children had presents given them which seemed a gift from Fairyland and had cost more than fifty roubles as he afterwards heard when he was twenty a celebrated revolutionist came to their factory to work as a working girl and noticing his superior qualities began giving books and pamphlets to Kondratyev and to talk and explain his position to him and how to remedy it when the possibility of freeing himself and others from their oppressed state rose clearly in his mind the injustice of this state appeared more cruel and more terrible than before and he lunged passionately not only for freedom but also for the punishment of those who had arranged and who kept up this cruel injustice Kondratyev devoted himself with passion to the acquirement of knowledge it was not clear to him how knowledge should bring about the realisation of the social ideal but he believed that the knowledge that had shown him the injustice of the state in which he lived would also abolish that injustice itself besides knowledge would in his opinion raise him above others therefore he left off drinking and smoking and devoted all his leisure time to study the revolutionist gave him lessons and he's thirst for every kind of knowledge and the facility with which he took it in surprised her in two years he had mastered algebra geometry history which he was specially fond of he had acquaintance with artistic and critical and especially socialistic literature the revolutionist was arrested and Kondratyev with her forbidden books having been found in their possession and they were imprisoned and then exiled to the Vologda government there Kondratyev became acquainted with Navadvarov and read a great deal more revolutionary literature remembered it all and became still firmer in his socialistic views while in exile he became leader in a large strike which ended in the destruction of a factory and the murder of the director he was again arrested and condemned to Siberia his religious views were of the same negative nature as his views of the existing economic conditions having seen the absurdity of the religion in which he was brought up and having gained with great effort and at first with fear but later with rapture freedom from it he did not tire of viciously and with venom ridiculing priests and religious dogmas as if wishing to revenge himself for the deception that had been practiced on him he was ascetic through habit contented himself with very little and like all those used to work from childhood and whose muscles have been developed he could work much and easily and was quick at any manual labor but what he valued most was the leisure in presence and halting stations which enabled him to continue his studies he was now studying the first volume of Karl Marx and carefully hid the book in his sack as if it were a great treasure he behaved with reserve and indifference to all his comrades except Navadvarov to whom he was greatly attached and whose arguments on all subjects he accepted as unanswerable truths he had an indefinite contempt for women whom he looked upon as a hindrance in all necessary business but he pitted Maslova and was gentle with her for he considered her an example of the way the lower are exploited by the upper classes the same reason made him dislike Nekledov so that he talked little with him and never pressed Nekledov's hand but only held out his own to be pressed when greeting him End of Book 3, Chapter 12 Book 3, Chapter 13 of Resurrection This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by David Cole Medway, Massachusetts Resurrection by Leo Tolstoy Translated by Louise Maud Book 3, Chapter 13 Lover Fairs of the Exiles The stove had burned up and got warm The tea was made and poured out into mugs and cups and milk was added to it Rusks, fresh rye and wheat bread hard-boiled eggs butter and a calf's head and feet were placed on the cloth Everybody moved towards the part of the shelf beds which took the place of the table and sat eating and talking Rint Sabre sat on a box pouring out the tea The rest crowded round her only Krilsov who had taken off his wet cloak and wrapped himself in his dry plaid and lay in his own place talking to Nekledov After the cold and damp march and the dirt and disorder they had found there and after the pains they had taken to get eat tidy after having drunk hot tea and eaten they were all in the best and brightest of spirits The fact that the tramp of feet the screams and abuse of the criminals reached them through the wall reminding them of their surroundings seemed only to increase the sense of coziness As on an island in the midst of the sea these people felt themselves for a brief interval not swamped by the degradation and sufferings which surrounded them made their spirits rise and excited them They talked about everything except their present position and that which awaited them Then as it generally happens among young men and women especially if they are forced to remain together as these people were all sorts of agreements and disagreements and attractions curiously blended had sprung up among them almost all of them were in love Navadvarov was in love with a pretty smiling Grabetz This Grabetz was a young thoughtless girl who had gone in for a course of study perfectly indifferent to revolutionary questions but succumbing to the influence of the day she compromised herself in some way and was exiled The chief interest of her life during the time of her trial in prison and in exile was her success with men just as it had been when she was free Now on the way she comforted herself with the fact that Navadvarov had taken a fancy to her and she fell in love with him Vera Dukova who was very prone to fall in love herself but did not awaken love in others though she was always hoping for mutual love was sometimes drawn to Navatov then to Navadvarov Kryltsov felt something like love for Mary Pavlovna He loved her with a man's love but knowing how she regarded this sort of love hit his feelings under the guise of friendship and gratitude for the tenderness with which she attended to his wants Navatov and Rensaver were attached to each other by very complicated ties just as Mary Pavlovna was a perfectly chaste maiden in the same way Rensaver was perfectly chaste as her own husband's wife when only a schoolgirl of sixteen she fell in love with Rincev a student of the Petersburg university and married him before he left the university when she was only nineteen years old during his fourth year at the university her husband had become involved in the students' rows was exiled from Petersburg and turned revolutionist she left the medical courses she was attending followed him and also turned revolutionist if she had not considered her husband the cleverest and best of men she would not have fallen in love with him and if she had not fallen in love would not have married but having fallen in love and married him whom she thought the best and cleverest of men she naturally looked upon life and its aims in the way the best and cleverest of men looked at them at first he thought the aim of life was to learn and she looked upon study as the aim of life he became a revolutionist and so did she she could demonstrate very clearly that the existing state of things could not go on and that it was everybody's duty to fight the state of things and to try to bring about conditions in which the individual could develop freely etc and she imagined that she really thought and felt all this but in reality she only regarded everything her husband thought as absolute truth and only sought for perfect agreement perfect identification of her own soul with his which alone could give her full moral satisfaction the parting with her husband and their child whom her mother had taken was very hard to bear but she bore it firmly and quietly because it was for her husband's sake and for that cause which she had not the slightest doubt was true since he served it she was always with her husband in thoughts and did not love and could not love any other any more than she had done before but Nabotov's devoted and pure love touched and excited her this moral firm man her husband's friend tried to treat her as a sister but something more appeared in his behaviour to her and this something frightened them both and yet gave colour to their life of hardship so that in all this circle only Berypalovna and Kondratyev were quite free from love affairs End of Book 3, Chapter 13 Book 3, Chapter 14 of Resurrection This is a LibriVox recording or LibriVox recordings from the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by David Cole, Medway, Massachusetts Resurrection by Leo Talstoy Translated by Louise Mord Book 3, Chapter 14 Conversations in Prison Expecting to have a private talk with Gatusha as usual after tea Nikladov sat by the side of Kriltsov conversing with him Among other things he told him the story of Makar's crime and about his request to him Kriltsov listened attentively gazing at Nikladov with glistening eyes Yes, said Kriltsov suddenly I often think that here we are going side by side with them and who are they? The same for whose sake we are going and yet we not only do not know them but do not even wish to know them and they, even worse than that they hate us and look upon us as enemies this is terrible There is nothing terrible about it broken Navadvarov The masses always worship power only The government is in power and they worship it and hate us Tomorrow we shall have the power and they will worship us he said with his grating voice At that moment a volley of abuse and the rattle of chains sounded from behind the wall something was heard thumping against it and screaming and shrieking someone was being beaten and someone was calling out murder help Hear them, the beasts What intercourse can there be between us and such as them? Quietly remarked Navadvarov You call them beasts and Nikladov was just telling me about such an action irritably retorted Kriltsov and wanton to say how Makar was risking his life to save a fellow villager That is not the action of a beast it is heroism Sentimentality Navadvarov ejaculated ironically It is difficult for us to understand the emotions of these people and the motives on which they act You see generosity in the act and it may be simply jealousy of that other criminal How is it that you never wish to see anything good in another? Mary Palovna said suddenly, flaring up How can one see what does not exist? How doesn't it not exist when a man risks dying a terrible death? I think said Navadvarov that if we mean to do our work the first condition is that Here Kondratyev put down the book he was reading by the lamp light He began to listen attentively to his master's words We should not give way to fancy but look at things as they are We should do all in our power for the masses and expect nothing in return The masses can only be the object of our activity but cannot be our fellow workers as long as they remain in that state of inertia they are in at present he went on as if delivering a lecture therefore to expect help from them before the process of development that process which we are preparing them for has taken place is an illusion What process of development Grilsoft began flushing all over We say that we are against arbitrary rule and despotism and is this not the most awful despotism No despotism whatever I am only saying that I know the path that the people must travel and can show them that path But how can you be sure that the path you show is the true path Is this not the same kind of despotism that lay at the bottom of the inquisition all persecutions and the great revolution They too knew the one true way by means of their science Their having heard is no proof of my going to err Besides there is a great difference between the ravings of ideologues and the facts based on sound economic science Novod Vorov's voice filled the room He alone was speaking all the rest were silent They are always disputing Mary Polovna said when there was a moment of silence And you yourself What do you think about it? I think Grilsoft is right when he says we should not force our views on the people And you Kutusha asked Nekledov with a smile, waiting anxiously for her answer fearing she would say something awkward I think the common people are wrong she said and blushed scarlet They are dreadfully wrong That's right Maslova, quiet right cried Nabatov They are terribly wronged the people and they must not be wronged and therein lies the whole of our task A curious idea on the object of revolution Novod Vorov remarked crossily and began to smoke I cannot talk to him says Grilsoft in a whisper and was silent and it is much better not to talk Nekledov said Although Novod Vorov was highly esteemed of all the revolutionists though he was very learned and considered very wise Nekledov reckoned him among those of the revolutionists who being below the average moral level were very far below it his inner life was very far below it his inner life was very far below it his inner life was of a nature directly opposite to that of Simonson's Simonson was one of those people of an essentially masculine type whose actions follow the dictates of their reason and are determined by it Novod Vorov belonged on the contrary to the class of people of a feminine type whose reason is directed partly toward the attainment of aims said by their feelings partly to the justification of acts suggested by their feelings the whole of Novod Vorov's revolutionary activity though he could explain it very eloquently and very convincingly appeared to Nekledov to be founded on nothing but ambition and the desire for supremacy at first his capacity for assimilating the thoughts of others and of expressing them correctly had given him a position of supremacy among pupils and teachers in the gymnasium and the university where qualities such as his are highly prized and he was satisfied when he had finished his studies and received his diploma he suddenly altered his views and from a modern liberal he turned into a rabid Nerod Ovalets in order, so Krilsov who did not like him said to gain supremacy in another sphere as he was devoid of those moral and aesthetic qualities which call forth doubts and hesitation he very soon acquired a position in the revolutionary world which satisfied him that of the leader of a party having once chosen a direction he never doubted or hesitated he was therefore certain that he never made a mistake everything seemed quite simple, clear and certain and the narrowness and one-sidedness of his views did make everything seem simple and clear one only had to be logical, as he said his self-assurance was so great that it either repelled people or made them submit to him as he carried on his work among very young people his boundless self-assurance led them to believe him very profound and wise the majority did submit to him and he had a great success in revolutionary circles his activity was directed to the preparation of a rising in which he was to usurp the power and call together a council a program, composed by him should be proposed before the council and he felt sure that this program of his solved every problem and that it would be impossible not to carry it out his comrades respected but did not love him he did not love anyone looked upon all men of note as upon rivals and would have willingly treated them as old male monkey street young ones if he could have done it he would have torn all mental power every capacity from other men so that they should not interfere with the display of his talents he behaved well only to those who bowed before him now on the journey he behaved well to Kondratyev who was influenced by his propaganda to Vera Dukovar and pretty little Gebrets who were both in love with him although in principle he was in favour of the women's movement yet in the depth of his soul he considered all women stupid and insignificant except those whom he was sentimentally in love with as he was now in love with Gebrets and such women he considered to be exceptions whose merits he alone was capable of discerning the question of the relations of the sexes he also looked upon as thoroughly solved by accepting free union he had one nominal and one real wife from both of whom he was separated having come to the conclusion that there was no real love between them and now he thought of entering on a free union with Gebrets he despised Nekledov for playing the fool as Novod Varov termed it with Maslova but especially for the freedom Nekledov took of considering the defects of the existing system and the methods of correcting those defects in a manner which was not only not exactly the same as Novod Varov's but was Nekledov's own a prince's, that is a fool's manner Nekledov felt this relation to Novod Varov's towards him and knew to his sorrow that in spite of the state of good will in which he found himself on this journey he could not help paying this man in his own coin and could not stifle the strung antipathy he felt for him End of book 3, chapter