"I should not have gone if you were well," came from one side.
"I swear by God I know nothing about it!" cried a prisoner from the other side.
Maslova noticed his agitation, and it communicated itself to her. Her eyes sparkled, and her puffy, white cheeks became covered with red spots, but her face retained its severity, and her squinting eyes stared past him.
"You are like him, but I don't know you," she shouted.
"I came here to ask your forgiveness," he said in a loud voice, without intonation, as if repeating a lesson he had learned by heart.
As he said these words he felt ashamed and looked round. But the thought immediately came to his mind that it was well that he was ashamed, for he ought to bear the shame. And in a loud voice he continued:
"I acted meanly, infamously—forgive me."
She stood motionless, her squinting eyes fixed on him.
He could not continue and left the net, making efforts to stifle the sobbing which was convulsing his breast.
The inspector who directed Nekhludoff to the women's ward, evidently becoming interested in him, came into the room, and, seeing him in the middle of the passage, asked him why he was not speaking with the prisoner he had inquired about. Nekhludoff blew his nose, and, endeavoring to assume an air of calmness, said: