told to Nekhludoff, he would undertake their defense without
compensation. Nekhludoff also told him of the hundred and thirty men
kept in prison through some misunderstanding, and asked him whose
fault he thought it was. The lawyer was silent for a short while,
evidently desiring to give an accurate answer.

"Whose fault it is? No one's," he said decisively. "If you ask the
prosecutor, he will tell you that it is Maslenikoff's fault, and if
you ask Maslenikoff, he will tell you that it is the prosecutor's
fault. It is no one's fault."

"I will go to Maslenikoff and tell him."

"That is useless," the lawyer retorted, smiling. "He is--he is not
your friend or relative, is he? He is such a blockhead, and, saving
your presence, at the same time such a sly beast!"

Nekhludoff recalled what Maslenikoff had said about the lawyer, made
no answer, and, taking leave, directed his steps toward Maslenikoff's
residence.

Two things Nekhludoff wanted of Maslenikoff. First, to obtain
Maslova's transfer to the hospital, and to help, if possible, the
hundred and thirty unfortunates. Although it was hard for him to be
dealing with this man, and especially to ask favors of him, yet it was
the only way of gaining his end, and he had to go through it.

As Nekhludoff approached Maslenikoff's house, he saw a number of
carriages, cabs and traps standing in front of it, and he recalled
that this was the reception day to which he had been invited. While