come next. All sorts of absurd ideas came into her mind. If they
could suspect her of theft, then they might arrest her, strip her
naked, and search her, then lead her through the street with an
escort of soldiers, cast her into a cold, dark cell with mice and
woodlice, exactly like the dungeon in which Princess Tarakanov was
imprisoned. Who would stand up for her? Her parents lived far away
in the provinces; they had not the money to come to her. In the
capital she was as solitary as in a desert, without friends or
kindred. They could do what they liked with her.

"I will go to all the courts and all the lawyers," Mashenka thought,
trembling. "I will explain to them, I will take an oath. . . . They
will believe that I could not be a thief!"

Mashenka remembered that under the sheets in her basket she had
some sweetmeats, which, following the habits of her schooldays, she
had put in her pocket at dinner and carried off to her room. She
felt hot all over, and was ashamed at the thought that her little
secret was known to the lady of the house; and all this terror,
shame, resentment, brought on an attack of palpitation of the heart,
which set up a throbbing in her temples, in her heart, and deep
down in her stomach.

"Dinner is ready," the servant summoned Mashenka.

"Shall I go, or not?"

Mashenka brushed her hair, wiped her face with a wet towel, and
went into the dining-room. There they had already begun dinner. At
one end of the table sat Fedosya Vassilyevna with a stupid, solemn,