The presiding justice was about to continue his interrogation when the
member with the eye-glasses, angrily whispering something, stopped
him. The presiding justice nodded his assent and turned to the
prisoner.

"You say 'Lubka,' but a different name is entered here."

The prisoner was silent.

"I ask you what is your real name?"

"What name did you receive at baptism?" asked the angry member.

"Formerly I was called Katherine."

"It is impossible," Nekhludoff continued to repeat, although there was
no doubt in his mind now that it was she, that same servant ward with
whom he had been in love at one time--yes, in love, real love, and
whom in a moment of mental fever he led astray, then abandoned, and to
whom he never gave a second thought, because the recollection of it
was too painful, revealed too manifestly that he, who prided himself
of his good breeding, not only did not treat her decently, but basely
deceived her.

Yes, it was she. He saw plainly the mysterious peculiarity that
distinguishes every individual from every other individual.
Notwithstanding the unnatural whiteness and fullness of her face, this
pleasant peculiarity was in the face, in the lips, in the slightly
squinting eyes, and, principally, in the naive, smiling glance, and in