VERA DOUKHOVA.
"So this is what it means, this," thought Nekhludoff as he left the *, only now fully understanding his crime. If he had not tried to expiate his guilt he would never have found out how great his crime was. Nor was this all; she, too, would never have felt the whole horror of what had been done to her. He only now saw what he had done to the soul of this woman; only now she saw and understood what had been done to her.
Up to this time Nekhludoff had played with a sensation of self-admiration, had admired his own remorse; now he was simply filled with horror. He knew he could not throw her up now, and yet he could not imagine what would come of their relations to one another.
Just as he was going out, a jailer, with a disagreeable, insinuating countenance, and a cross and medals on his breast, came up and handed him a note with an air of mystery.
"Here is a note from a certain person, your honour," he said to Nekhludoff as he gave him the envelope.
"What person?"
"You will know when you read it. A political *er. I am in that ward, so she asked me; and though it is against the rules, still feelings of humanity--" The jailer spoke in an unnatural manner.
Nekhludoff was surprised that a jailer of the ward where political *ers were kept should pass notes inside the very * walls, and almost within sight of every one; he did not then know that this was both a jailer and a spy. However, he took the note and read it on coming out of the *.
The note was written in a bold hand, and ran as follows: "Having heard that you visit the *, and are interested in the case of a criminal *er, the desire of seeing you arose in me. Ask for a permission to see me. I can give you a good deal of information concerning your protegee, and also our group.--Yours gratefully, VERA DOUKHOVA."
Vera Doukhova had been a school-teacher in an out-of-the-way village of the Novgorod Government, where Nekhludoff and some friends of his had once put up while bear hunting. Nekhludoff gladly and vividly recalled those old days, and his acquaintance with Doukhova. It was just before Lent, in an isolated spot, 40 miles from the railway. The hunt had been successful; two bears had been killed; and the company were having dinner before starting on their return journey, when the master of the hut where they were putting up came in to say that the deacon's daughter wanted to speak to Prince Nekhludoff. "Is she pretty?" some one asked. "None of that, please," Nekhludoff said, and rose with a serious look on his face. Wiping his mouth, and wondering what the deacon's daughter might want of him, he went into the host's private hut.
There he found a girl with a felt hat and a warm cloak on--a sinewy, ugly girl; only her eyes with their arched brows were beautiful.
"Here, miss, speak to him," said the old housewife; "this is the prince himself. I shall go out meanwhile."
"In what way can I be of service to you?" Nekhludoff asked.
"I--I--I see you are throwing away your money on such nonsense--on hunting," began the girl, in great confusion. "I know--I only want one thing--to be of use to the people, and I can do nothing because I know nothing--" Her eyes were so truthful, so kind, and her expression of resoluteness and yet bashfulness was so touching, that Nekhludoff, as it often happened to him, suddenly felt as if he were in her position, understood, and sympathised.
"What can I do, then?"
"I am a teacher, but should like to follow a course of study; and I am not allowed to do so. That is, not that I am not allowed to; they'd allow me to, but I have not got the means. Give them to me, and when I have finished the course I shall repay you. I am thinking the rich kill bears and give the peasants drink; all this is bad. Why should they not do good? I only want 80 roubles. But if you don't wish to, never mind," she added, gravely.
"On the contrary, I am very grateful to you for this opportunity. . . . I will bring it at once," said Nekhludoff.
He went out into the passage, and there met one of his comrades, who had been overhearing his conversation. Paying no heed to his chaffing, Nekhludoff got the money out of his bag and took it to her.
"Oh, please, do not thank me; it is I who should thank you," he said.
It was pleasant to remember all this now; pleasant to remember that he had nearly had a quarrel with an officer who tried to make an objectionable joke of it, and how another of his comrades had taken his part, which led to a closer friendship between them. How successful the whole of that hunting expedition had been, and how happy he had felt when returning to the railway station that night. The line of sledges, the horses in tandem, glide quickly along the narrow road that lies through the forest, now between high trees, now between low firs weighed down by the snow, caked in heavy lumps on their branches. A red light flashes in the dark, some one lights an aromatic cigarette. Joseph, a bear driver, keeps running from sledge to sledge, up to his knees in snow, and while putting things to rights he speaks about the elk which are now going about on the deep snow and gnawing the bark off the aspen trees, of the bears that are lying asleep in their deep hidden dens, and his breath comes warm through the opening in the sledge cover. All this came back to Nekhludoff's mind; but, above all, the joyous sense of health, strength, and freedom from care: the lungs breathing in the frosty air so deeply that the fur cloak is drawn tightly on his chest, the fine snow drops off the low branches on to his face, his body is warm, his face feels fresh, and his soul is free from care, self-reproach, fear, or desire. How beautiful it was. And now, O God! what torment, what trouble!
Evidently Vera Doukhova was a revolutionist and im*ed as such. He must see her, especially as she promised to advise him how to lighten Maslova's lot.
“唉，真没想到会弄得这么糟，这么糟！”聂赫留朵夫一边想，一边走出*。直到现在，他才了解自己的全部罪孽。要不是他决心赎罪自新，他也不会发觉自己罪孽的深重。不仅如此，她也不会感觉到他害她害到什么地步。直到现在，这一切才暴露无遗，使人触目惊心。直到现在，他才看到他怎样摧一残了这个女人的心灵；她也才懂得他怎样伤害了她。以前聂赫留朵夫一直孤芳自赏，连自己的忏悔都很得意，如今他觉得这一切简直可怕。他觉得再也不能把她抛开不管，但又无法想象他们的关系将会有怎样的结局。
聂赫留朵夫刚走到大门口，就有一个戴满奖章的看守露出一副使人讨厌的媚相，鬼鬼祟祟地递给他一封信。
“嗯，这信是一个女人写给阁下的……”他说着一交一给聂赫留朵夫一封信。
“哪一个女人？”
“您看了就会知道。是个女犯，政治犯。我跟他们在一起。这事是她托我办的。这种事虽然犯禁，但从人道出发……”看守不自然地说。
一个专管政治犯的看守，在*里几乎当着众人的面传递信件，这使聂赫留朵夫感到纳闷。他还不知道，这人又是看守又是密探。他接过信，一面走出*，一面看信。信是用铅笔写的，字迹老练，不用旧体字母，内容如下：
“听说您对一个刑事犯很关心，常到*里来看她。我很想同您见一次面。请您要求当局准许您同我见面。如果得到批准，我可以向您提供许多有关那个您替她说情的人以及我们小组的重要情况。感谢您的薇拉。”
薇拉原是诺夫哥罗德省一个偏僻乡村的女教师。有一次聂赫留朵夫跟同伴去那里猎熊。这个女教师曾要求聂赫留朵夫给她一笔钱，帮助她进高等学校念书。聂赫留朵夫给了她钱，事后就把她忘记了。现在才知道她是个政治犯，关在*里。她大概在*里听说了他的事，所以愿意替他效劳。当时一切事情都很简单，如今却变得那么复杂难弄。聂赫留朵夫生动而愉快地回忆起当时的情景，他同薇拉认识的经过。那是谢肉节之前的事，在一个离铁路线六十俄里的偏僻乡村。那次打猎很顺手，打死了两头熊。他们正在吃饭，准备动身回家。这时，他们借宿的农家主人走来说，本地教堂助祭的女儿来了，要求见一见聂赫留朵夫公爵。
“长得好看吗？”有人问。
“嗐，住口！”聂赫留朵夫板起脸说，从饭桌旁站起来，擦擦嘴，心里感到奇怪，助祭的女儿会有什么事要见他，随即走到主人屋里。
屋子里有一个姑一娘一，头戴毡帽，身穿皮外套，脸容消瘦，青筋毕露，相貌并不好看，只有一双眼睛和两道扬起的眉一毛一长得很美。
“喏，薇拉·叶夫列莫夫娜，这位就是公爵，”上了年纪的女主人说，“你跟她谈谈吧。我走了。”
“我能为您效点什么劳哇？”聂赫留朵夫说。
“我……我……您瞧，您有钱，可您把钱花在无聊的事上，花在打猎上，这我知道，”那个姑一娘一很难为情地说，“我只有一个希望，希望自己成为一个对人类有益的人，可是我什么也不会，因为什么也不懂。”
她的一双眼睛诚恳而善良，脸上的神色又果断又胆怯，十分动人。聂赫留朵夫不由得设身处地替她着想——他有这样的一习一惯，——立即懂得她的心情，很怜悯她。
“可是我能为您出什么力呢？”
“我是个教员，想进高等学校念书，可是进不去。倒不是人家下让进，人家是让我进的，可是要有钱。您借我一笔钱，等我将来毕业了还您。我想，有钱人打熊，还给庄稼人喝酒，这样不好。他们何不做点好事呢？我只要八十卢布就够了。您要是不愿意，那就算了，”她怒气冲冲地说。
“正好相反，我很感谢您给了我这样一个机会……我这就去拿来，”聂赫留朵夫说。
他走出屋子，看见他那个同伴正在门廊里偷一听他们谈话。
他没有答理同伴的取笑，从皮夹子里取出钱，一交一给她。
“您请收下，收下，不用谢。我应该谢谢您才是。”
聂赫留朵夫此刻想起这一切，感到很高兴。他想到有个军官想拿那事当作桃色新闻取笑他，他差点儿同他吵架，另一个同事为他说话，从此他同他更加要好，又想到那次打猎很顺手很快活，那天夜里回到火车站，他心里特别高兴。双马雪橇一辆接着一辆，排成一长串，悄没声儿地在林间狭路上飞驰。两边树木，高矮不一，中间杂着积雪累累的枞树。在黑暗中，红光一闪，有人点着一支香味扑鼻的纸烟。猎人奥西普在没膝深的雪地里，从这个雪橇跑到那个雪橇，讲到麋鹿怎样徘徊在深雪地上，啃着白杨树皮，又讲到熊怎样躲在密林的洞一穴一里睡觉，洞一口冒着嘴里吐出来的热气。
聂赫留朵夫想到这一切，想到自己当年身强力壮，无忧无虑，多么幸福。他鼓起胸膛，深深地呼吸着冰凉的空气。树枝上的积雪被马轭碰下来，撒在他脸上。他感到周身暖和，脸上凉快，心里没有忧虑，没有悔恨，没有恐惧，也没有欲一望。那时是多么快乐呀！如今呢？我的天，如今一切都是多么痛苦，多么艰难哪！……
薇拉显然是个革命者，她因革命活动而坐牢。应该见见她，特别是因为她答应帮他出主意，来改善玛丝洛娃的处境。
