"And I can make them pity me. . . . And a woman, when she
pities! Go and weep to her, and ask her to kill you . . . she
will pity you--and she will kill you."

"I feel inclined to commit a murder," declared Martyanoff,
laughing his dull laugh.

"Upon whom?" asked Abyedok, edging away from him.

"It's all the same to me . . . Petunikoff . . . Egorka . . . or
even you!"

"And why?" inquired Kuvalda.

"I want to go to Siberia . . . I have had enough of this vile
life . . . one learns how to live there!"

"Yes, they have a particularly good way of teaching in Siberia,"
agreed the Captain, sadly.

They spoke no more of Petunikoff, or of the turning out of the
inhabitants of the dosshouse. They all knew that they would have
to leave soon, therefore they did not think the matter worth
discussion. It would do no good, and besides the weather was not
very cold though the rains had begun . . . and it would be
possible to sleep on the ground anywhere outside the town. They
sat in a circle on the grass and conversed about all sorts of
things, discussing one subject after another, and listening
attentively even to the poor speakers in order to make the time