When the padlock rattled and the door opened to let Maslova into
the cell, all turned towards her. Even the deacon's daughter
stopped for a moment and looked at her with lifted brows before
resuming her steady striding up and down.
Korableva stuck her needle into the brown sacking and looked
questioningly at Maslova through her spectacles. "Eh, eh, deary
me, so you have come back. And I felt sure they'd acquit you. So
you've got it?" She took off her spectacles and put her work down
beside her on the shelf bed.
"And here have I and the old lady been saying, 'Why, it may well
be they'll let her go free at once.' Why, it happens, ducky,
they'll even give you a heap of money sometimes, that's sure,"
the watchman's wife began, in her singing voice: "Yes, we were
wondering, 'Why's she so long?' And now just see what it is.
Well, our guessing was no use. The Lord willed otherwise," she
went on in musical tones.
"Is it possible? Have they sentenced you?" asked Theodosia, with
concern, looking at Maslova with her bright blue, child-like
eyes; and her merry young face changed as if she were going to
cry.
Maslova did not answer, but went on to her place, the second from
the end, and sat down beside Korableva.
"Have you eaten anything?" said Theodosia, rising and coming up
to Maslova.
Maslova gave no reply, but putting the rolls on the bedstead,
took off her dusty cloak, the kerchief off her curly black head,
and began pulling off her shoes. The old woman who had been
playing with the boy came up and stood in front of Maslova. "Tz,
tz, tz," she clicked with her tongue, shaking her head pityingly.
The boy also came up with her, and, putting out his upper lip,
stared with wide open eyes at the roll Maslova had brought. When
Maslova saw the sympathetic faces of her fellow-prisoners, her
lips trembled and she felt inclined to cry, but she succeeded in
restraining herself until the old woman and the boy came up.
When she heard the kind, pitying clicking of the old woman's
tongue, and met the boy's serious eyes turned from the roll to
her face, she could bear it no longer; her face quivered and she
burst into sobs.
"Didn't I tell you to insist on having a proper advocate?" said
Norableva. "Well, what is it? Exile?"
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. 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.