"What do you wish?" the prosecutor asked, sternly.
"I am a juryman, my name is Nekhludoff, and I want to see the prisoner Maslova," he said, resolutely and quickly. He blushed, and felt that his act would have a decisive influence on his life.
The prosecutor was a tall, swarthy man with short hair just turning gray, bright eyes and a trimmed, bushy beard on the protruding lower jaw.
"Maslova? Yes, I know her. She was charged with poisoning," he said calmly. "Why do you want to see her?" And then, as if desiring to soften his harsh demeanor, he added: "I cannot give you the permission before I know what you want to see her for."
"It is very important for me to see her," Nekhludoff burst out.
"I see," said the prosecutor, and, raising his eyes, looked intently at Nekhludoff. "Has her case been tried?"
"She was tried yesterday and sentenced to four years' penal servitude. The conviction was irregular; she is innocent."
"I see. If she has only been sentenced yesterday," said the prosecutor without paying attention to Nekhludoff's declaration about her innocence, "then she will be detained until final judgment in the place where she is now. The jail is open to visitors on certain days only. I advise you to apply there."
"But I must see her as soon as possible," with trembling lower jaw Nekhludoff said, feeling that a critical moment was approaching.
"Why are you so anxious about seeing her?" the prosecutor asked, raising his eyebrows with some alarm.