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"The service is going on. When the mass is over, you'll beadmitted."

Nekhludoff stepped aside from the waiting crowd. A man intattered clothes, crumpled hat, with bare feet and red stripesall over his face, detached himself from the crowd, and turnedtowards the prison.

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"Now, then, where are you going?" shouted the sentinel with thegun. p wigham richardson

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"And you hold your row," answered the tramp, not in the leastabashed by the sentinel's words, and turned back. "Well, ifyou'll not let me in, I'll wait. But, no! Must needs shout, as ifhe were a general."

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The crowd laughed approvingly. The visitors were, for the greaterpart, badly-dressed people; some were ragged, but there were alsosome respectable-looking men and women. Next to Nekhludoff stooda clean-shaven, stout, and red-cheeked man, holding a bundle,apparently containing under-garments. This was the doorkeeper ofa bank; he had come to see his brother, who was arrested forforgery. The good-natured fellow told Nekhludoff the whole storyof his life, and was going to question him in turn, when theirattention was aroused by a student and a veiled lady, who droveup in a trap, with rubber tyres, drawn by a large thoroughbredhorse. The student was holding a large bundle. He came up toNekhludoff, and asked if and how he could give the rolls he hadbrought in alms to the prisoners. His fiancee wished it (thislady was his fiancee), and her parents had advised them to takesome rolls to the prisoners.

"I myself am here for the first time," said Nekhludoff, "anddon't know; but I think you had better ask this man," and hepointed to the warder with the gold cords and the book, sittingon the right. owigs curly clip in extensions

As they were speaking, the large iron door with a window in itopened, and an officer in uniform, followed by another warder,stepped out. The warder with the notebook proclaimed that theadmittance of visitors would now commence. The sentinel steppedaside, and all the visitors rushed to the door as if afraid ofbeing too late; some even ran. At the door there stood a warderwho counted the visitors as they came in, saying aloud, 16, 17,and so on. Another warder stood inside the building and alsocounted the visitors as they entered a second door, touching eachone with his hand, so that when they went away again not onevisitor should be able to remain inside the prison and not oneprisoner might get out. The warder, without looking at whom hewas touching, slapped Nekhludoff on the back, and Nekhludoff felthurt by the touch of the warder's hand; but, remembering what hehad come about, he felt ashamed of feeling dissatisfied andtaking offence.

The first apartment behind the entrance doors was a large vaultedroom with iron bars to the small windows. In this room, which wascalled the meeting-room, Nekhludoff was startled by the sight ofa large picture of the Crucifixion.

"What's that for?" he thought, his mind involuntarily connectingthe subject of the picture with liberation and not withimprisonment.

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