“You must decide,” Nekhludoff repeated.
“What am I to decide? Everything has long been decided.”
“No; you must decide whether you will accept Mr. Simonson’s offer,” said Nekhludoff.
“What sort of a wife can I be—I, a convict? Why should I ruin Mr. Simonson, too?” she said, with a frown.
“Well, but if the sentence should be mitigated.”
“Oh, leave me alone. I have nothing more to say,” she said, and rose to leave the room.
CHAPTER XVIII. NEVEROFF’S FATE.
When, following Katusha, Nekhludoff returned to the men’s room, he found every one there in agitation. Nabatoff, who went about all over the place, and who got to know everybody, and noticed everything, had just brought news which staggered them all. The news was that he had discovered a note on a wall, written by the revolutionist Petlin, who had been sentenced to hard labour, and who, every one thought, had long since reached the Kara; and now it turned out that he had passed this way quite recently, the only political prisoner among criminal convicts.
“On the 17th of August,” so ran the note, “I was sent off alone with the criminals. Neveroff was with me, but hanged himself in the lunatic asylum in Kasan. I am well and in good spirits and hope for the best.”