"You wish to go to the women's ward?" "Yes; I would like to see one of the women prisoners," Nekhludoff said, with the same strained politeness. "You should have said so in the meeting-room. Whom do you wish to see, then?" "I wish to see Katherine Maslova." "Has she been sentenced?" "Yes, she was sentenced the other day," he said humbly, as if fearing to ruffle the temper of the officer, who seemed to be interested in him. "Then this way, please," said the inspector, who had evidently decided from Nekhludoff's appearance that he deserved attention. "Sidoroff!" he turned to a warrant-officer wearing a mustache, and medals on his breast. "Show this gentleman to the women's ward." "All right, sir." At that moment heart-rending cries came from the direction of the grating. All this seemed strange to Nekhludoff, and strangest of all was that he was obliged to thank and feel himself under obligation to the inspector and warden. The warden led Nekhludoff from the men's ward into the corridor, and through the open door opposite admitted him to the women's meeting-room. CHAPTER XL. This room, like the one in the men's ward, was also divided in three, by two nets, but it was considerably smaller. There were also fewer visitors and fewer prisoners, but the noise was as great as in the men's room. Here, also, the authorities stood guard between the nets. The authorities were here represented by a matron in uniform with crown-laced sleeves and fringed with blue braid and a belt of the same color. Here, too, people pressed against the nets--in the passage--city folks in divers dresses; behind the nets, female prisoners, some in white, others in their own dresses. The whole net was lined with people. Some stood on tip-toe, speaking over the heads of others; others, again, sat on the floor and conversed.