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Updated: June 19, 2025
Korableva, with her head bent to one side, was dealing out blows with one arm and trying to catch the red-haired woman's hand with her teeth, while the rest of the women crowded round, screaming and trying to separate the fighters; even the consumptive one came up and stood coughing and watching the fight. The children cried and huddled together. The noise brought the woman warder and a jailer.
"That's not the law," remarked Korableva. "I'll tell him I'll tell him," answered Maslova. "Suppose I have another drop, just to keep up courage," she added, with a wink; and Korableva poured out half a cup of vodka, which Maslova drank. Then, having wiped her mouth and repeating the words "just to keep up courage," tossing her head and smiling gaily, she followed the warder along the corridor.
"Of course not," suddenly agreed Korableva, evidently thinking about something else as she sat examining her bag. "Well, shall we have a drop?" "You have some," replied Maslova. "I won't." The party of convicts, among whom was Maslova, would very likely leave in the beginning of June.
"He's not been a-rioting, or anything," Korableva said, referring to Vasiliev, as she bit tiny pieces off a lump of sugar with her strong teeth. "He only stuck up for a chum, because it's not lawful to strike prisoners nowadays."
"A little vodka," she said to Korableva, wiping the tears with her sleeve and sobbing less frequently. "All right, fork out," said Korableva. Maslova got the money, which she had also hidden in a roll, and passed the coupon to Korableva.
The beverage was perfectly cold, and tasted more of tin than of tea, but Maslova poured out a cupful and began to drink. "Here, Finashka!" she called, and breaking a piece from the roll thrust it toward the boy, who gazed at her open-mouthed. Korableva, meanwhile, brought the flask of wine. Maslova offered some to Korableva and Miss Dandy.
The latter looked at the picture, disapprovingly shook her head, chiefly because Maslova spent money so foolishly, and, lighting a cigarette over the lamp, inhaled the smoke several times, then thrust it at Maslova. Maslova, without ceasing to cry, eagerly began to inhale the smoke. "Penal servitude," she murmured, sobbing. "They have no fear of God, these cursed blood-suckers!" said Korableva.
"Is it true, sir, that 12 convicts have been done to death?" said a severe-looking old prisoner with a deep voice like a man's. It was Korableva. "I did not hear of 12; I have seen two," said Nekhludoff. "They say there were 12 they killed. And will nothing be done to them? Only think! The fiends!" "And have none of the women fallen ill?" Nekhludoff asked.
The old woman stood up before the image and began to pray. "Two Siberian convicts," suddenly said the red-haired woman in a hoarse voice, accompanying every word with a torrent of abuse. "Look out, or you will get it again," quickly answered Korableva, adding similar revilement. Then they became silent.
"Finashka, here you are," she said, breaking off a bit of the roll and giving it to the boy, who stood looking at her mouth. Meanwhile Korableva handed the flask of vodka and a mug to Maslova, who offered some to her and to Khoroshavka. These prisoners were considered the aristocracy of the cell because they had some money, and shared what they possessed with the others.
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