KRYLTZOFF’S STORY
Nekhlyudov grew especially fond of Kriltsov, a consumptive young man condemned to hard labour, and belonging to the same party as Katusha. Nekhlyudov made his acquaintance in Ekaterinburg, and after that talked with him several times on the road. Once during the summer Nekhlyudov spent almost a whole day with him at a halting-station, and Kriltsov, having started talking, told him his story and explained how he had become a revolutionist. His story up to the time of his imprisonment was soon told. He lost his father, a rich landed proprietor in the south of Russia, when still a child. He was the only son, and his mother brought him up. He learned easily both at school and at the university, and was first in the mathematical set of his year. He had the offer of a scholarship from the university to enable him to study abroad. But he delayed coming to a decision. He was in love, and had thoughts of marriage, and of taking part in the rural administration. He wanted to do everything, and could not decide which course to take. At this juncture some fellow-students at the university asked him for money for a popular cause. He knew that this cause was the revolutionary cause, a thing he was not interested in at that time, but he gave the money from a sense of comradeship and vanity, and lest it should be thought he was afraid. Those who received the money were caught, and a note was found which proved that the money had been given by Kriltsov. He was arrested, taken first to the police station, then imprisoned.
“They were not specially strict in that prison,” Kriltsov went on (he was sitting on the high bed-shelf, his elbows on his knees, with sunken chest, the beautiful eyes with which he looked at Nekhlyudov glistening feverishly). “We managed to converse – in other ways besides tapping the walls – and we could walk about the corridors, share our provisions and our tobacco, and in the evenings we even sang in chorus. I had a fine voice. Yes; if it had not been for mother – she was terribly grieved – it would have been all right, even pleasant and interesting. There I made the acquaintance of the famous Petrov, who afterwards killed himself with a piece of glass in the fortress, and of others. But I was not yet a revolutionist. I also became acquainted with two neighbours in cells near mine. They had both been caught in the same affair, and arrested with Polish proclamations in their possession, and were tried for attempting to escape from the convoy on their way to the railway station. One was a Pole, Lozinsky, the other a Jew, Rozovsky. Yes. Well, this Rozovsky was quite a boy. He said he was seventeen, but he looked fifteen. Thin, small, active, with black, sparkling eyes, and, like most Jews, very musical. His voice was still breaking, and yet he sang beautifully. Yes. I saw them both taken to be tried. They were taken in the morning. They returned in the evening, and said they were condemned to death. No one had expected it. Their case was so unimportant; they only tried to get away from the convoy and did not even wound any one. And then it was so unnatural to execute such a child as Rozovsky. And we in prison all came to the conclusion that it was only done to frighten them, and would not be confirmed. At first we were excited, and then we comforted ourselves, and life went on as before. Yes. Well, one evening the watchman comes to my door and tells me mysteriously that the carpenters had come and were putting up the gallows. At first I did not understand. What’s that? What gallows? But the old watchman was so excited that I saw at once it was for our two. I wished to tap and communicate with my comrades, but was afraid those two would hear. The comrades were also silent. Evidently everybody knew. In the corridor and in the cells everything was as still as death all that evening. We did not tap the walls nor sing. At ten the watchman came again and announced that a hangman had arrived from Moscow. He said this and went away. I began calling him back. Suddenly I hear Rozovsky shouting to me across the corridor, ‘What’s the matter? Why do you call him?’ I answered something about his bringing me some tobacco, but he seemed to guess, and asked me, ‘Why did we not sing to-night; why did we not tap the walls?’ I do not remember what I said, but I stepped back so as not to speak to him. Yes; it was a terrible night. I listened to every sound all night. Suddenly, towards morning, I heard doors opening and somebody walking – many persons. I went up to the slot in my door. There was a lamp burning in the corridor. The first to pass was the inspector. He was a stout man, and usually seemed resolute and self-confident, but now he was ghastly pale, downcast, and seemed frightened; then came his assistant, gloomy, but resolute: and, behind all, the watchman. They passed my door and stopped at the next, and I heard the assistant calling out in a strange voice, ‘Lozinsky, get up, and put on clean linen!’ Yes. Then I heard the creaking of the door. They entered his cell. Then I heard Lozinsky’s steps going to the opposite side of the corridor. I could only see the inspector. He stood quite pale, and buttoned and unbuttoned his coat, shrugging his shoulders. Yes. Then as if frightened of something he moved out of the way. It was Lozinsky, who passed him and came up to my door. A handsome young fellow he was, you know, of that nice Polish type: broad-shouldered, his head covered with fair, fine curly hair as with a cap, and with beautiful blue eyes. So blooming, so fresh, so healthy. He stopped in front of my slot, so that I could see the whole of his face. A dreadful, gaunt, livid face. ‘Kriltsov, have you any cigarettes?’ I wished to pass him some, but the assistant hurriedly pulled out his cigarette case and passed it to him. He took one, the assistant struck a match; he lit the cigarette and began to smoke, and seemed to be thinking. Then, as if he had remembered something, he began to speak. ‘It is cruel and unjust. I have committed no crime. I – ’ I saw something quiver in his white young throat, from which I could not take my eyes, and he stopped. Yes. At that momen