Chapter 98 Part Two - Thirty Six

Nekhludoff walked forward as fast as the prisoners.He wore only a light overcoat, but it was still unbearably hot, mainly because of the dusty streets and hot, stagnant air that made it suffocating.After walking half a mile, he got into the carriage and walked forward, but walking in the middle of the street in the carriage made him feel even hotter.He tried to recall yesterday's conversation with his brother-in-law, but it did not trouble him so much now as it did in the morning.This has been watered down by the sight of prisoners walking out of the prison and setting off in procession.Mainly because the weather is really hot.In the shade of a tree next to the low wall, an ice cream vendor was squatting on the ground, and in front of him stood two students from a practical middle school.One of the children was licking a horn spoon, eating with relish; the other waited for the peddler to fill his glass with the gooey yellow stuff.

"Where can I drink something to quench my thirst?" Nekhludoff asked the coachman, feeling very thirsty and longing for something to drink. "Here's a good restaurant," said the coachman, and driving the carriage round the corner, he led Nekhludoff to the door of a restaurant with a large sign. The fat shopkeeper, wearing only a shirt, sat at the counter.A few waiters, dressed in dirty and blackened white overalls, were scattered around the tables because there were no customers.At this moment, when they saw this unusual guest, they all showed curiosity. A bottle of mineral water, sat down at a small table covered with a dirty tablecloth, far from the window.

Two people sat at another table with a tea set and a white glass bottle.They wiped the sweat from their foreheads and calculated the accounts with a friendly face.One of them was very dark, bald on the top of his head, with a circle of black hair on the back of his head, like Ragozhinsky.This sight reminded Nekhludoff of his conversation with his brother-in-law the day before, and he longed to see his brother-in-law and sister again before leaving. "I'm afraid it's too late," he thought. "Let's write a letter." He asked the waiter for letter paper, envelopes and stamps. While drinking the cool mineral water, he thought about what to write.But he had so many thoughts in his mind that he couldn't write the letter well.

"My dear Natalya! Yesterday's conversation with my brother-in-law made a painful impression on me, and I cannot just go away..." he began. "What do I write next? Ask him to forgive me for what I said yesterday? But I'm speaking from my heart. He thinks I've given up my original opinion. Besides, he's meddling in my private affairs. . . . No, I can't." Write like this," Nekhludoff, feeling again his hatred for this self-righteous man who didn't fit in with him, pocketed the unwritten letter, paid the bill, went out into the street, and drove off to chase the group. prisoner.

It's getting hotter.The walls and stones seemed to be steaming.Walking barefoot on the hot gravel road must be like a fire.Nekhludoff's bare hands touched the painted fenders of the carriage as if on fire. The horses galloped listlessly down the street, their hoofs thumping evenly over the rough and dusty road.The driver kept dozing off.Nekhludoff was sitting in the car, looking coldly ahead and thinking of nothing.On a sloping street, a group of people gathered at the door of a building, and an escort with a gun stood there.Nekhludoff ordered the carriage to stop. "What's the matter?" he asked the yard sweeper.

"Something happened to a prisoner." Nekhludoff jumped out of the carriage and went up to the crowd.On the bumpy and sloping road near the sidewalk, an elderly male prisoner was lying with his head on the slope.The prisoner had broad shoulders, a big brown-red beard, a red face, a flat nose, and was wearing a gray prison robe and gray prison trousers.He lay on his back with his freckled hands outstretched, palms down.He opened his dull bloodshot eyes, looked at the sky, and made a moaning sound, and his tall chest heaved and fell evenly after a long while.Beside him stood a frowning policeman, a peddler, a postman, a clerk, an old woman with a parasol, a boy with an empty basket.

"Their bodies have been impoverished and impoverished in prison, and now they are being brought under such a poisonous sun," said the clerk to Nekhludoff, who was approaching, apparently blaming someone. "I'm afraid he's going to die," said the woman with the parasol mournfully. "Got to unbutton his shirt," said the postman. With thick, trembling fingers, the policeman clumsily undoes the tape around the prisoner's red, veined neck.He was clearly agitated and nervous, but still felt he had to give the crowd a shout. "What are you doing around? It's so hot, and you have to block the wind."

"A doctor should be called in for an examination first. Keep the weak ones. Or bring in the half-dead," said the clerk, intending to show that he was reasonable and knew the rules. The policeman unfastened the belt on the prisoner's shirt, straightened his back, and glanced around. "I tell you, go away! It's none of your business, what's there to see?" he said, turning to Nekhludoff, hoping for his support, but he met Nekhludoff's eyes. Seeing no sympathy, he glanced at the escort. But the escort stood aside, just looking at his crooked boot heels, and ignored the police's plight.

"I don't care about those who should be in charge. Is there such a rule in the world to torture people to death?" "Prisoners are prisoners, but they are human beings!" said someone in the crowd. "Put his head up and give him some water," said Nekhludoff. "Someone has already fetched water," replied the policeman, putting his hand under the prisoner's armpit, and with difficulty dragged his body to a higher level. "Why are there so many people around?" A majestic voice suddenly came out. The police officer, wearing a dazzling white uniform and a pair of even more dazzling high leather boots, walked quickly towards the crowd. "Go away! What are you doing standing here?" He yelled loudly before he could clearly see what the crowd was doing around them.

He walked up to him, saw the dying prisoner, and nodded affirmatively, as if he had expected such a thing long ago.Then tell the police: "How did this happen?" The police reported that a group of prisoners had passed by, and one of them fell to the ground, and the escort ordered him to stay. "What's the big deal? Take him to the Bureau. Get a cab." "The yard sweeper is calling," said the policeman, raising his hand to the brim of his hat in salute. As soon as the clerk said that the weather was too hot, the police officer gave him a hard look and said, "Is it your turn to care about this? Uh? Go your way!" The clerk fell silent.

"He must be given some water," said Nekhludoff. The inspector also cast a sharp look at Nekhludoff, but said nothing.The yard sweeper brought a glass of water, and the police officer ordered the policeman to bring it to the prisoner.The policeman lifted the prisoner's head and tried to pour water into his mouth, but the prisoner did not swallow, and the water flowed down his beard, and wet the front of his jacket and the dusty linen shirt. "Splash some water on his head!" ordered the officer.The policeman took off the pancake-like hat on the prisoner's head and splashed water on his reddish-brown curly hair and bald head. The prisoner opened his eyes wider as if in fear, but did not change his posture.There was dusty sewage running down his face, he was still moaning evenly, and his whole body was trembling uncontrollably. "Isn't this a carriage? Just use this one," said the policeman, pointing to Nekhludoff's carriage. "Come here! Hey, I told you to come here!" "We have guests," said the coachman gloomily, without raising his eyes. "It's a car I hired," said Nekhludoff, "but make good use of it. I'll pay for it," he added to the coachman. "Hey, what are you all standing there for?" cried the officer. "Hurry up!" The policemen, yard sweepers, and escorts lifted the dying prisoner, put him in the carriage, and put him on the seat.But the prisoner couldn't sit still, his head kept falling backwards, and his whole body slid off the seat. "Let him lie down!" ordered the officer. "Never mind, sir, I'll take him just like that," said the policeman, sitting firmly beside the dying man, thrusting his strong right arm under his armpit, and encircling his body. The escort lifted the prisoner's feet, which were not wrapped in footcloth but only wearing prison shoes, and placed them under the driver's seat, allowing the legs to straighten. The officer looked around, saw the prisoner's pancake-like hat dropped on the road, picked it up, and put it on the prisoner's receding wet head. "Go!" he ordered. The coachman looked back angrily, shook his head, and walked slowly towards the police station under the supervision of the escort.The police sat with the prisoner and kept pulling the prisoner's body up as he slid down.The prisoner's head kept shaking back and forth, side to side.The escort walked beside the carriage, putting the prisoner's legs in place from time to time.Nekhludoff followed them.