cells of the men's ward, where they were followed by eyes looking
out of every one of the gratings in the doors, and entered the
office, where two soldiers were waiting to escort her. A clerk
who was sitting there gave one of the soldiers a paper reeking of
tobacco, and pointing to the prisoner, remarked, "Take her."

The soldier, a peasant from Nijni Novgorod, with a red,
pock-marked face, put the paper into the sleeve of his coat,
winked to his companion, a broad-shouldered Tchouvash, and then
the prisoner and the soldiers went to the front entrance, out of
the prison yard, and through the town up the middle of the
roughly-paved street.

Isvostchiks [cabmen], tradespeople, cooks, workmen,
and government clerks, stopped and looked curiously at the
prisoner; some shook their heads and thought, "This is what evil
conduct, conduct unlike ours, leads to." The children stopped and
gazed at the robber with frightened looks; but the thought that
the soldiers were preventing her from doing more harm quieted
their fears. A peasant, who had sold his charcoal, and had had
some tea in the town, came up, and, after crossing himself, gave
her a copeck. The prisoner blushed and muttered something; she
noticed that she was attracting everybody's attention, and that
pleased her. The comparatively fresh air also gladdened her, but
it was painful to step on the rough stones with the ill-made
prison shoes on her feet, which had become unused to walking.
Passing by a corn-dealer's shop, in front of which a few pigeons
were strutting about, unmolested by any one, the prisoner almost
touched a grey-blue bird with her foot; it fluttered up and flew
close to her car, fanning her with its wings. She smiled, then