Maslova got the money, which she had also hidden in a roll, and

passed the coupon to Korableva. Korableva accepted it, though she

could not read, trusting to Khoroshavka, who knew everything, and

who said that the slip of paper was worth 2 roubles 50 copecks,

then climbed up to the ventilator, where she had hidden a small

flask of vodka. Seeing this, the women whose places were further

off went away. Meanwhile Maslova shook the dust out of her cloak

and kerchief, got up on the bedstead, and began eating a roll.

"I kept your tea for you," said Theodosia, getting down from the

shelf a mug and a tin teapot wrapped in a rag, "but I'm afraid it

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is quite cold." The liquid was quite cold and tasted more of tin

than of tea, yet Maslova filled the mug and began drinking it

with her roll. "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.

In a few moments Maslova brightened up and related merrily what

had happened at the court, and what had struck her most, i.e.,

how all the men had followed her wherever she went. In the court

they all looked at her, she said, and kept coming into the

prisoners' room while she was there.

"One of the soldiers even says, 'It's all to look at you that

they come.' One would come in, 'Where is such a paper?' or

something, but I see it is not the paper he wants; he just

devours me with his eyes," she said, shaking her head. "Regular

artists."

"Yes, that's so," said the watchman's wife, and ran on in her

musical strain, "they're like flies after sugar."

"And here, too," Maslova interrupted her, "the same thing. They

can do without anything else. But the likes of them will go

without bread sooner than miss that! Hardly had they brought me

back when in comes a gang from the railway. They pestered me so,

I did not know how to rid myself of them. Thanks to the

assistant, he turned them off. One bothered so, I hardly got

away."

"What's he like?" asked Khoroshevka.

"Dark, with moustaches."

"It must be him."

"Him--who?"

"Why, Schegloff; him as has just gone by."

"What's he, this Schegloff?"

"What, she don't know Schegloff? Why, he ran twice from Siberia.

Now they've got him, but he'll run away. 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."




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