Resurrection

"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. One of the convicts outside had done something that

produced this effect on the onlookers.

"Lawks! see the shaved hound, what he's doing," said the

red-haired woman, her whole fat body shaking with laughter; and

leaning against the grating she shouted meaning less obscene

words.

"Ugh, the fat fright's cackling," said Korableva, who disliked

the red-haired woman. Then, turning to Maslova again, she asked:

"How many years?"

"Four," said Maslova, and the tears ran down her cheeks in such

profusion that one fell on the cigarette. Maslova crumpled it up

angrily and took another.

Though the watchman's wife did not smoke she picked up the

cigarette Maslova had thrown away and began straightening it out,

talking unceasingly.

"There, now, ducky, so it's true," she said. "Truth's gone to the

dogs and they do what they please, and here we were guessing that

you'd go free. Norableva says, 'She'll go free.' I say, 'No,' say

I. 'No, dear, my heart tells me they'll give it her.' And so it's

turned out," she went on, evidently listening with pleasure to

her own voice.

The women who had been standing by the window now also came up to

Maslova, the convicts who had amused them having gone away. The

first to come up were the woman imprisoned for illicit trade in

spirits, and her little girl. "Why such a hard sentence?" asked

the woman, sitting down by Maslova and knitting fast.

"Why so hard? Because there's no money. That's why! Had there

been money, and had a good lawyer that's up to their tricks been

hired, they'd have acquitted her, no fear," said Korableva.

"There's what's-his-name--that hairy one with the long nose. He'd

bring you out clean from pitch, mum, he would. Ah, if we'd only

had him!"

"Him, indeed," said Khoroshavka. "Why, he won't spit at you for

less than a thousand roubles."

"Seems you've been born under an unlucky star," interrupted the

old woman who was imprisoned for incendiarism. "Only think, to

entice the lad's wife and lock him himself up to feed vermin, and

me, too, in my old days--" she began to retell her story for the

hundredth time. "If it isn't the beggar's staff it's the prison.

Yes, the beggar's staff and the prison don't wait for an

invitation."

"Ah, it seems that's the way with all of them," said the spirit

trader; and after looking at her little girl she put down her

knitting, and, drawing the child between her knees, began to

search her head with deft fingers. "Why do you sell spirits?" she

went on. "Why? but what's one to feed the children on?"