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"When a train passes,then under a carriage, and there will be anend," Katusha was thinking, without heeding the girl.

And she made up her mind to do it, when, as it always happens,when a moment of quiet follows great excitement, he, thechild,his child,made himself known within her. Suddenly allthat a moment before had been tormenting her, so that it hadseemed impossible to live, all her bitterness towards him, andthe wish to revenge herself, even by dying, passed away; she grewquieter, got up, put the shawl on her head, and went home.

Wet, muddy, and quite exhausted, she returned, and from that daythe change which brought her where she now was began to operatein her soul. Beginning from that dreadful night, she ceasedbelieving in God and in goodness. She had herself believed inGod, and believed that other people also believed in Him; butafter that night she became convinced that no one believed, andthat all that was said about God and His laws was deception anduntruth. He whom she loved, and who had loved her,yes, she knewthat,had thrown her away; had abused her love. Yet he was thebest of all the people she knew. All the rest were still worse.All that afterwards happened to her strengthened her in thisbelief at every step. His aunts, the pious old ladies, turned herout when she could no longer serve them as she used to. And ofall those she met, the women used her as a means of gettingmoney, the men, from the old police officer down to the wardersof the prison, looked at her as on an object for pleasure. And noone in the world cared for aught but pleasure. In this belief theold author with whom she had come together in the second year ofher life of independence had strengthened her. He had told heroutright that it was this that constituted the happiness of life,and he called it poetical and aesthetic.

Everybody lived for himself only, for his pleasure, and all thetalk concerning God and righteousness was deception. And ifsometimes doubts arose in her mind and she wondered whyeverything was so ill-arranged in the world that all hurt eachother, and made each other suffer, she thought it best not todwell on it, and if she felt melancholy she could smoke, or,better still, drink, and it would pass. human hair wig 99j



On Sunday morning at five o'clock, when a whistle sounded in thecorridor of the women's ward of the prison, Korableva, who wasalready awake, called Maslova.

"Oh, dear! life again," thought Maslova, with horror,involuntarily breathing in the air that had become terriblynoisome towards the morning. She wished to fall asleep again, toenter into the region of oblivion, but the habit of fear overcamesleepiness, and she sat up and looked round, drawing her feetunder her. The women had all got up; only the elder children werestill asleep. The spirit-trader was carefully drawing a cloakfrom under the children, so as not to wake them. The watchman'swife was hanging up the rags to dry that served the baby asswaddling clothes, while the baby was screaming desperately inTheodosia's arms, who was trying to quiet it. The consumptivewoman was coughing with her hands pressed to her chest, while theblood rushed to her face, and she sighed loudly, almostscreaming, in the intervals of coughing. The fat, red-hairedwoman was lying on her back, with knees drawn up, and loudlyrelating a dream. The old woman accused of incendiarism wasstanding in front of the image, crossing herself and bowing, andrepeating the same words over and over again. The deacon'sdaughter sat on the bedstead, looking before her, with a dull,sleepy face. Khoroshavka was twisting her black, oily, coarsehair round her fingers. The sound of slipshod feet was heard inthe passage, and the door opened to let in two convicts, dressedin jackets and grey trousers that did not reach to their ankles.With serious, cross faces they lifted the stinking tub andcarried it out of the cell. The women went out to the taps in thecorridor to wash. There the red-haired woman again began aquarrel with a woman from another cell.

"Is it the solitary cell you want?" shouted an old jailer,slapping the red-haired woman on her bare, fat back, so that itsounded through the corridor. "You be quiet."

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