me, he turned to the woman. And no sooner had he turned to her, than
his whole face altered. He said, in a peculiar, scornful, hasty
tone, such as is employed towards dogs: "What do you jabber in that
careless way for? 'I sit in the taverns.' You do sit in the
taverns, and that means, to talk business, that you are a
prostitute," and again he uttered the word. "She does not know the
name for herself." This tone offended me. "It is not our place to
abuse her," said I. "If all of us lived according to the laws of
God, there would be none of these women."

"That's the very point," said the landlord, with an awkward smile.

"Therefore, we should not reproach but pity them. Are they to
blame?"

I do not recollect just what I said, but I do remember that I was
vexed by the scornful tone of the landlord of these quarters which
were filled with women, whom he called prostitutes, and that I felt
compassion for this woman, and that I gave expression to both
feelings. No sooner had I spoken thus, than the boards of the bed in
the next compartment, whence the laugh had proceeded, began to creak,
and above the partition, which did not reach to the ceiling, there
appeared a woman's curly and dishevelled head, with small, swollen
eyes, and a shining, red face, followed by a second, and then by a
third. They were evidently standing on their beds, and all three
were craning their necks, and holding their breath with strained
attention, and gazing silently at us.

A troubled pause ensued. The student, who had been smiling up to
this time, became serious; the landlord grew confused and dropped his