Maslova was glad of the money, because it could give her the only thing she now desired.
"If I could but get cigarettes and take a whiff!" she said to herself, and all her thoughts centred on the one desire to smoke and drink.
She longed for spirits so that she tasted them and felt the strength they would give her; and she greedily breathed in the air when the fumes of tobacco reached her from the door of a room that opened into the corridor.
But she had to wait long, for the secretary, who should have given the order for her to go, forgot about the prisoners while talking and even disputing with one of the advocates about the article forbidden by the censor.
At last, about five o'clock, she was allowed to go, and was led away through the back door by her escort, the Nijni man and the Tchoovash.
Then, still within the entrance to the Law Courts, she gave them 50 copecks, asking them to get her two rolls and some cigarettes.
The Tchoovash laughed, took the money, and said,
"All right; I'll get 'em," and really got her the rolls and the cigarettes and honestly returned the change.
She was not allowed to smoke on the way, and, with her craving unsatisfied, she continued her way to the prison.
When she was brought to the gate of the prison, a hundred convicts who had arrived by rail were being led in.
The convicts, bearded, clean-shaven, old, young, Russians, foreigners, some with their heads shaved and rattling with the chains on their feet, filled the anteroom with dust, noise and an acid smell of perspiration.
Passing Maslova, all the convicts looked at her, and some came up to her and brushed her as they passed.
"Ay, here's a wench—a fine one," said one.
"My respects to you, miss," said another, winking at her.
One dark man with a moustache, the rest of his face and the back of his head clean shaved, rattling with his chains and catching her feet in them, sprang near and embraced her.
"What! don't you know your chum?
Come, come; don't give yourself airs," showing his teeth and his eyes glittering when she pushed him away.
"You rascal! what are you up to?" shouted the inspector's assistant, coming in from behind.
The convict shrank back and jumped away.
The assistant assailed Maslova.
"What are you here for?"
Maslova was going to say she had been brought back from the Law Courts, but she was so tired that she did not care to speak.
"She has returned from the Law Courts, sir," said one of the soldiers, coming forward with his fingers lifted to his cap.
"Well, hand her over to the chief warder.
I won't have this sort of thing."
"Yes, sir."
"Sokoloff, take her in!" shouted the assistant inspector.
The chief warder came up, gave Maslova a slap on the shoulder, and making a sign with his head for her to follow led her into the corridor of the women's ward.
There she was searched, and as nothing prohibited was found on her (she had hidden her box of cigarettes inside a roll) she was led to the cell she had left in the morning.
CHAPTER XXX. THE CELL.
The cell in which Maslova was imprisoned was a large room 21 feet long and 10 feet broad; it had two windows and a large stove. Two-thirds of the space were taken up by shelves used as beds.
The planks they were made of had warped and shrunk. Opposite the door hung a dark-coloured icon with a wax candle sticking to it and a bunch of everlastings hanging down from it.
By the door to the right there was a dark spot on the floor on which stood a stinking tub.
The inspection had taken place and the women were locked up for the night.
The occupants of this room were 15 persons, including three children.
It was still quite light. Only two of the women were lying down: a consumptive woman imprisoned for theft, and an idiot who spent most of her time in sleep and who was arrested because she had no passport.
The consumptive woman was not asleep, but lay with wide open eyes, her cloak folded under her head, trying to keep back the phlegm that irritated her throat, and not to cough.
Some of the other women, most of whom had nothing on but coarse brown holland chemises, stood looking out of the window at the convicts down in the yard, and some sat sewing.
Among the latter was the old woman, Korableva, who had seen Maslova off in the morning. She was a tall, strong, gloomy-looking woman; her fair hair, which had begun to turn grey on the temples, hung down in a short plait.
She was sentenced to hard labour in Siberia because she had killed her husband with an axe for making up to their daughter.
She was at the head of the women in the cell, and found means of carrying on a trade in spirits with them.
Beside her sat another woman sewing a coarse canvas sack. This was the wife of a railway watchman, [There are small watchmen's cottages at distances of about one mile from each other along the Russian railways, and the watchmen or their wives have to meet every train.] imprisoned for three months because she did not come out with the flags to meet a train that was passing, and an accident had occurred. She was a short, snub-nosed woman, with small, black eyes; kind and talkative.
The third of the women who were sewing was Theodosia, a quiet young girl, white and rosy, very pretty, with bright child's eyes, and long fair plaits which she wore twisted round her head.
She was in prison for attempting to poison her husband.
She had done this immediately after her wedding (she had been given in marriage without her consent at the age of 16) because her husband would give her no peace.
But in the eight months during which she had been let out on bail, she had not only made it up with her husband, but come to love him, so that when her trial came they were heart and soul to one another.
Although her husband, her father-in-law, but especially her mother-in-law, who had grown very fond of her, did all they could to get her acquitted, she was sentenced to hard labour in Siberia.
The kind, merry, ever-smiling Theodosia had a place next Maslova's on the shelf bed, and had grown so fond of her that she took it upon herself as a duty to attend and wait on her.
Two other women were sitting without any work at the other end of the shelf bedstead. One was a woman of about 40, with a pale, thin face, who once probably had been very handsome.
She sat with her baby at her thin, white breast.