Resurrection

Maslova rose.

"You are excited. If it is possible, I shall come again tomorrow;

you think it over," said Nekhludoff.

She gave him no answer and, without looking up, followed the

jailer out of the room.

"Well, lass, you'll have rare times now," Korableva said, when

Maslova returned to the cell. "Seems he's mighty sweet on you;

make the most of it while he's after you. He'll help you out.

Rich people can do anything."

"Yes, that's so," remarked the watchman's wife, with her musical

voice. "When a poor man thinks of getting married, there's many a

slip 'twixt the cup and the lip; but a rich man need only make up

his mind and it's done. We knew a toff like that duckie. What

d'you think he did?"

"Well, have you spoken about my affairs?" the old woman asked.

But Maslova gave her fellow-prisoners no answer; she lay down on

the shelf bedstead, her squinting eyes fixed on a corner of the

room, and lay there until the evening.

A painful struggle went on in her soul. What Nekhludoff had told

her called up the memory of that world in which she had suffered

and which she had left without having understood, hating it. She

now feared to wake from the trance in which she was living. Not

having arrived at any conclusion when evening came, she again

bought some vodka and drank with her companions.