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"Don't they fear the Lord, the cursed soul-slayers?" muttered Korableva, "sentencing the lass for nothing." At this moment the sound of loud, coarse laughter came from the women who were still at the window. The little girl also laughed, and her childish treble mixed with the hoarse and screeching laughter of the others.
Even the officers fear him," said Miss Dandy, who delivered notes to prisoners, and knew everything that transpired in the jail. "He will surely escape." "If he does he won't take either of us with him," said Korableva. "You'd better tell me this: What did the lawyer say to you about a petition you must send one now." Maslova said that she did not know anything about a petition.
Maslova kept thinking that she was now a convict condemned to hard labour, and had twice been reminded of this once by Botchkova and once by the red-haired woman and she could not reconcile herself to the thought. Korableva, who lay next to her, turned over in her bed. "There now," said Maslova in a low voice; "who would have thought it? See what others do and get nothing for it."
If she became lonesome, she took a drink, smoked a cigarette, and the feeling would pass away. When at five o'clock the following morning, which was Sunday, the customary whistle blew, Korableva, who was already awake, roused Maslova. "A convict," Maslova thought with horror, rubbing her eyes and involuntarily inhaling the foul morning air.
When with a rattling of chains the cell door was unlocked and Maslova admitted, all eyes were turned toward her. Even the chanter's daughter stopped for a moment and looked at her with raised eyebrows, but immediately resumed walking with long, resolute strides. Korableva stuck her needle into the sack she was sewing and gazed inquiringly through her glasses at Maslova. "Ah me!
Among the latter was the old woman, Korableva, who had seen Maslova off in the morning. She was a tall, strong, gloomy-looking woman; her fair hair, which had begun to turn grey on the temples, hung down in a short plait. She was sentenced to hard labour in Siberia because she had killed her husband with an axe for making up to their daughter.
For a moment she released the hair, but only to wind it around her fist. Korableva, her head bent, with one hand kept striking her antagonist over the body and catching the latter's hand with her teeth. The women crowded around the fighters, parting them and shouting. Even the consumptive came near them, and, coughing, looked on. The children huddled together and cried.
Theodosia then removed the pots and bowls; Korableva and the watch-woman took to their sewing, while Maslova, hugging her knees, became sad from ennui. She was about to lay down to sleep when the matron called her into the office, where a visitor was waiting for her.
All the ministers there are his relatives," she continued, "but I don't care for them." "Sure enough," Korableva suddenly assented, reaching down into her bag, and evidently thinking of something else. "What do you say shall we have some wine?" "Not I," answered Maslova. "Drink yourselves." The Senate could hear the case in two weeks, and by that time Nekhludoff intended to be in St.
All this was known in the prison since the evening, and it was being talked about with animation in all the cells. Korableva, Khoroshevka, Theodosia, and Maslova sat together in their corner, drinking tea, all of them flushed and animated by the vodka they had drunk, for Maslova, who now had a constant supply of vodka, freely treated her companions to it.
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