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"Euphemia Bochkova testified that she knew nothing about the missing money, never entered the merchant's room, which Lubka herself kept in order, and that if anything was stolen from the merchant, it was done by Lubka when she came to the room for the money." At this point Maslova shuddered, and with open mouth looked at Bochkova.
The accused, Euphemia Botchkova, stated that she knew nothing about the missing money, that she had not even gone into Smelkoff's room, but that Lubka had been busy there all by herself; that if anything had been stolen, it must have been done by Lubka when she came with the merchant's key to get his money. At this point Maslova gave a start, opened her mouth, and looked at Botchkova.
On the said Smelkoff's return to the lodging-house Mauritania, together with Lubka, the latter, in accordance with the attendant Kartinkin's advice, gave the said Smelkoff some white powder given to her by the said Kartinkin, dissolved in brandy. The housemaid of the lodging-house Mauritania, Euphemia Botchkova, placed to her account in the local Commercial Bank 1,800 roubles.
"It is impossible," he thought, looking intently at the prisoner. "But her name is Lubka," he thought, as he heard her answer. 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."
With quick movement Maslova rose with an air of submissiveness, and throwing back her shoulders, looked into the face of the presiding justice with her smiling, somewhat squinting black eyes. "What are you called?" "They used to call me Lubka," she answered, rapidly. Meanwhile Nekhludoff put on his pince-nez and examined the prisoners while they were questioned.
You have fine acquaintances, Lubka!" said Mayakin with humorous bitterness. "Well, who wrote it?" "What do you wish to know it for, papa?" "Come, tell me!" She had no desire to tell, but the old man persisted, and his voice was growing more and more dry and angry. Then she asked him uneasily: "And you will not do him any ill for it?" "I? I will bite his head off! Fool! What can I do to him?
He did not feel like going to his own huge empty house, where each step of his awakened a ringing echo, he strolled along the street, which was enveloped in the melancholy gray twilight of late autumn. He thought of Taras Mayakin. "How severe he is. He takes after his father. Only he's not so restless. He's also a cunning rogue, I think, while Lubka regarded him almost as a saint.
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