giving to specially appointed prisoners money for two days' keep to distribute among the rest, while others were purchasing food from women who had been let into the courtyard. One could hear the voices of the prisoners counting their money and making their purchases, and the shrill voices of the women with the food.
Simonson, in his rubber jacket and rubber overshoes fastened with a string over his worsted stockings (he was a vegetarian and would not wear the skin of slaughtered animals), was also in the courtyard waiting for the gang to start. He stood by the porch and jotted down in his notebook a thought that had occurred to him. This was what he wrote: 'If a bacteria watched and examined a human nail it would pronounce it inorganic matter, and thus we, examining our globe and watching its crust, pronounce it to be inorganic. This is incorrect.'
Katusha and Mary Pavlovna, both wearing top-boots and with shawls tied round their heads, came out of the building into the courtyard where the women sat sheltered from the wind by the northern wall of the court, and vied with one another, offering their goods, hot meat pie, fish, vermicelli, buckwheat porridge, liver, beef, eggs, milk. One had even a roast pig to offer.
Having bought some eggs, bread, fish, and some rusks, Maslova was putting them into her bag, while Mary Pavlovna was paying the women, when a movement arose among the convicts. All were silent and took their places. The officer came out and began giving the last orders before starting. Everything was done in the usual manner. The prisoners were counted, the chains on their legs examined, and those who were to march in couples linked together with manacles. But suddenly the angry, authoritative voice of the officer shouting something was heard, also the sound of a blow and the crying of a child. All was silent for a moment and then came a hollow murmur from the crowd. Maslova and Mary Pavlovna advanced towards the spot whence the noise proceeded.
CHAPTER II.
AN INCIDENT OF THE MARCH.
This is what Mary Pavlovna and Katusha saw when they came up to the scene whence the noise proceeded. The officer, a sturdy fellow, with fair moustaches, stood uttering words of foul and coarse abuse, and rubbing with his left the palm of his right hand, which he had hurt in hitting a prisoner on the face. In front of him a thin, tall convict, with half his head shaved and dressed in a cloak too short for him and trousers much too short, stood wiping his bleeding face with one hand, and holding a little shrieking girl wrapped in a shawl with the other.
'I'll give it you' (foul abuse); 'I'll teach you to reason' (more abuse); 'you're to give her to the women!' shouted the officer. 'Now, then, on with them.'
The convict, who was exiled by the Commune, had been carrying his little daughter all the way from Tomsk, where his wife had died of typhus, and now the officer ordered him to be manacled. The exile's explanation that he could not carry the child if he was manacled irritated the officer, who happened to be in a bad temper, and he gave the troublesome prisoner a beating. [A fact described by Lineff in his 'Transportation'.] Before the injured convict stood a convoy soldier, and a black-bearded prisoner with manacles on one hand and a look of gloom on his face, which he turned now to the officer, now to the prisoner with the little girl.
The officer repeated his orders for the soldiers to take away the girl. The murmur among the prisoners grew louder.
'All the way from Tomsk they were not put on,' came a hoarse voice from some one in the rear. 'It's a child, and not a puppy.'
'What's he to do with the lassie? That's not the law,' said some one else.
'Who's that?' shouted the officer as if he had been stung, and rushed into the crowd.
'I'll teach you the law. Who spoke. You? You?'
'Everybody says so, because-' said a short, broad-faced prisoner.
Before he had finished speaking the officer hit him in the face.
'Mutiny, is it? I'll show you what mutiny means. I'll have you all shot like dogs, and the authorities will be only too thankful. Take the girl.'
The crowd was silent. One convoy soldier pulled away the girl, who was screaming desperately, while another manacled the prisoner, who now submissively held out his hand.
'Take her to the women,' shouted the officer, arranging his sword belt.
The little girl, whose face had grown quite red, was trying to disengage her arms from under the shawl, and screamed unceasingly. Mary Pavlovna stepped out from among the crowd and came up to the officer.
'Will you allow me to carry the little girl?' she said.
'Who are you?' asked the officer.
'A political prisoner.'
Mary Pavlovna's handsome face, with the beautiful prominent eyes (he had noticed her before when the prisoners were given into his charge), evidently produced an effect on the officer. He looked at her in silence as if considering, then said: 'I don't care; carry her if you like. It is easy for you to show pity; if he ran away who would have to answer?'
'How could he run away with the child in his arms?' said Mary
Pavlovna.
'I have no time to talk with you. Take her if you like.'
'Shall I give her?' asked the soldier.
'Yes, give her.'
'Come to me,' said Mary Pavlovna, trying to coax the child to come to her.
But the child in the soldier's arms stretched herself towards her father and continued to scream, and would not go to Mary Pavlovna.
'Wait a bit, Mary Pavlovna,' said Maslova, getting a rusk out of her bag; 'she will come to me.'
The little girl knew Maslova, and when she saw her face and the rusk she let her take her. All was quiet. The gates were opened, and the gang stepped out, the convoy counted the prisoners over again, the bags were packed and tied on to the carts, the weak seated on the top. Maslova with the child in her arms took her place among the women next to Theodosia. Simonson, who had all the time been watching what was going on, stepped with large, determined strides up to the officer, who, having given his orders, was just getting into a trap, and said, 'You have behaved badly.'
'Get to your place; it is no business of yours.'
'It is my business to tell you that you have behaved badly and I have said it,' said Simonson, looking intently into the officer's face from under his bushy eyebrows.
'Ready? March!' the officer called out, paying no heed to Simonson, and, taking hold of the driver's shoulder, he got into the trap. The gang started and spread out as it stepped on to the muddy high road with ditches on each side, which passed through a dense forest.
CHAPTER III.
MARY PAVLOVNA.
In spite of the hard conditions in which they were placed, life among the political prisoners seemed very good to Katusha after the depraved, luxurious and effeminate life she had led in town for the last six years, and after two months' imprisonment with criminal prisoners. The fifteen to twenty miles they did per day, with one day's rest after two days' marching, strengthened her physically, and the fellowship with her new companions opened out to her a life full of interests such as she had never dreamed of. People so wonderful (as she expressed it) as those whom she was now going with she had not only never met but could not even have imagined.
'There now, and I cried when I was sentenced,' she said. 'Why, I must thank God for it all the days of my life. I have learned to know what I never should have found out else.'
The motives she understood easily and without effort that guided these people, and, being of the people, fully sympathised with them. She understood that these persons were for the people and against the upper classes, and though themselves belonging to the upper classes had sacrificed their privileges, their liberty and their lives for the
