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The larged-eyed illicit seller of spirits was the first to speak. "Well, is the sentence very severe?" she asked, seating herself near Maslova and continuing to knit her stocking. "It is severe because she has no money. If she had money to hire a good lawyer, I am sure they would not have held her," said Korableva.
Korableva turned to her, speaking in an angry basso. "You have smelled the wine! We know you. We don't need your advice; we know what we have to do." "Who is talking to you?" "You want some wine that's what you want." "Let her alone. Give her some," said Maslova, who always divided with others what she had. "Yes, I will give her," and Korableva clenched her fist. "Try it!
"If one's not to live together, what's the use of marrying?" said Theodosia. "There's your husband he's going with you," said the watchman's wife. "Well, of course, we're married," said Theodosia. "But why should he go through the ceremony if he is not to live with her?" "Why, indeed! Don't be a fool! You know if he marries her she'll roll in wealth," said Korableva.
The warders themselves are afraid of him," said Khoroshavka, who managed to exchange notes with the male prisoners and knew all that went on in the prison. "He'll run away, that's flat." "If he does go away you and I'll have to stay," said Korableva, turning to Maslova, "but you'd better tell us now what the advocate says about petitioning. Now's the time to hand it in."
The red-haired woman seemed only to have waited for this, and with a sudden movement caught hold of Korableva's hair with one hand and with the other struck her in the face. Korableva seized this hand, and Maslova and Khoroshavka caught the red-haired woman by her arms, trying to pull her away, but she let go the old woman's hair with her hand only to twist it round her fist.
Maslova could not answer, but took from inside the roll a box of cigarettes, on which was a picture of a lady with hair done up very high and dress cut low in front, and passed the box to Korableva.
"Of course one is sorry," said Korableva, "but she shouldn't come bothering." The next morning Nekhludoff awoke, conscious that something had happened to him, and even before he had remembered what it was he knew it to be something important and good. "Katusha the trial!" Yes, he must stop lying and tell the whole truth.
See what he is doing!" said the red-headed woman, pressing her face against the grating, her whole massive frame shaking. "What is that drum-hide shouting about?" said Korableva, shaking her head at the red-haired woman, and then again turning to Maslova. "How many years?" "Four," said Maslova, and the flow of her tears was so copious that one of them fell on the cigarette.
"What do you want here?" said Korableva angrily; "smell the vodka, do you? Your chatter's not wanted. We know what to do without your advice." "No one's speaking to you; what do you stick your nose in for?" "It's vodka you want; that's why you come wriggling yourself in here." "Well, offer her some," said Maslova, always ready to share anything she possessed with anybody.
Korableva looked at it and shook her head, chiefly because see did not approve of Maslova's putting her money to such bad use; but still she took out a cigarette, lit it at the lamp, took a puff, and almost forced it into Maslova's hand. Maslova, still crying, began greedily to inhale the tobacco smoke. "Penal servitude," she muttered, blowing out the smoke and sobbing.
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