The General stretched his hand with its stumpy fingers towards the table, and rang a bell, still looking at Nekhludoff and puffing at his cigarette.
“So I would like to ask you that this woman should be allowed to remain here until the answer to her petition comes.”
The footman, an orderly in uniform, came in.
“Ask if Anna Vasilievna is up,” said the General to the orderly, “and bring some more tea.” Then, turning to Nekhludoff, “Yes, and what else?”
“My other request concerns a political prisoner who is with the same gang.”
“Dear me,” said the General, with a significant shake of the head.
“He is seriously ill—dying, and he will probably be left here in the hospital, so one of the women prisoners would like to stay behind with him.”
“She is no relation of his?”
“No, but she is willing to marry him if that will enable her to remain with him.”
The General looked fixedly with twinkling eyes at his interlocutor, and, evidently with a wish to discomfit him, listened, smoking in silence.