evening. Her soul was in torment. That which Nekhludoff told her
opened to her that world in which she had suffered and which she had
left, hating without understanding it. She had now lost that
forgetfulness in which she had lived, and to live with a clear
recollection of the past was painful. In the evening she again bought
wine, which she drank with her fellow-prisoners.




CHAPTER XLVII.


"So, that is how it is!" thought Nekhludoff as he made his way out of
the prison, and he only now realized the extent of his guilt. Had he
not attempted to efface and atone for his conduct, he should never
have felt all the infamy of it, nor she all the wrong perpetrated
against her. Only now it all came out in all its horror. He now for
the first time perceived how her soul had been debased, and she
finally understood it. At first Nekhludoff had played with his
feelings and delighted in his own contrition; now he was simply
horrified. He now felt that to abandon her was impossible. And yet he
could not see the result of these relations.

At the prison gate some one handed Nekhludoff a note. He read it when
on the street. The note was written in a bold hand, with pencil, and
contained the following:

"Having learned that you are visiting the prison I thought
it would be well to see you. You can see me by asking the