Lf on a sofa in the saloon for first-class passengers. But he
unexpectedly felt so drowsy that he turned on his side, placed his palm
under his cheek, and immediately fell asleep. He was awakened by a
servant in dress-coat holding a napkin in his hand. "Mister, mister, are
you not Prince Nekhludoff? A lady is looking for you." Nekhludoff
quickly raised himself, rubbing his eyes, and the incidents of the
morning passed before his mind's eye--the procession of the convicts,
the men who had died from the heat, the grated windows of the cars, and
the women huddled behind them, one of whom was laboring in child-birth
without aid, and another piteously smiling to him from behind the iron
grating. But in reality he saw a table covered with bottles, vases,
chandeliers, and fruit stands; nimble servants bustling around the
table, and in the depth of the saloon, before the lunch-counter, loaded
with viands and fruits, the backs of passengers leisurely eating their
luncheon. While Nekhludoff was raising himself and shaking off the
slumber, he noticed that everybody in the saloon was curiously watching
the entrance. He turned his eyes in the same direction, and saw a
procession of people who bore an arm-chair in which was seated a lady,
her head covered with tulle. The first bearer was a lackey who seemed
familiar to Nekhludoff. The one behind was also a familiar porter, with
white crown lace around his cap. Behind the arm-chair came an elegantly
dressed maid-servant with curly hair, carrying a round leather box and a
sunshade. Further behind came the short-necked Prince Korchagin, his
shoulders thrown back; t
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