A PRISON QUARREL
MASLOVA got out the money, which she had also hidden in a roll, and passed the coupon to Korableva. Korableva, though she could not read, accepted it, trusting to Horoshavka, who knew everything, and who said that the slip of paper was worth two rubles fifty kopeyks, and then climbed up to the ventilator, where she had hidden a small flask of vodka. Seeing this, the women whose places were farther 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 a shelf a mug and a tin teapot wrapped in a rag, “but I’m afraid it’s 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 Horoshavka. These prisoners were considered the aristocracy of the cell because they had some money, and they shared what they possessed with others. In a few moments Maslova brightened up and related with vivacity what had happened at the Court, mimicking the public prosecutor, and describing what had struck her most, namely, how all the men had followed her about. In the Court they all looked at her, she said, and kept coming into the prisoners’ room while she was there.
“One of the guard even say: ‘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,” flowed the musical tones of the watchman’s wife: “they’re like flies after sugar. They can do without anything else, but the likes of them will go without bread sooner than miss that!”
“And here, too,” Maslova interrupted her, “the same thing. 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 Hhoroshavka.
“Dark, with moustaches.”
“It must be him.”
“Him – who?”
“Why, Shcheglov; him as has just gone by.”
“Who is Shcheglov?”
“What, she don’t know Shcheglov! Why, he ran away twice from Siberia. Now they’ve got him, but he’ll run away again. The warders themselves are afraid of him,” said Horoshavka, 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.”
“Well, if he does get away he won’t take us with him,” said Korableva, turning to Maslova. “But you’d better tell us now what the advocate says about petitioning. Now’s the time to hand it in.”