her stories. Katya had an aunt, an ill-natured old woman, who often
beat her; Katya hated her, and was always talking of how she would run
away from her aunt and live in '_God's full freedom_'; with secret
respect and awe Elena drank in these new unknown words, stared
intently at Katya and everything about her--her quick black, almost
animal eyes, her sun-burnt hands, her hoarse voice, even her ragged
clothes--seemed to Elena at such times something particular and
distinguished, almost holy. Elena went back home, and for long after
dreamed of beggars and God's freedom; she would dream over plans of
how she would cut herself a hazel stick, and put on a wallet and run
away with Katya; how she would wander about the roads in a wreath of
corn-flowers; she had seen Katya one day in just such a wreath. If, at
such times, any one of her family came into the room, she would shun
them and look shy. One day she ran out in the rain to meet Katya, and
made her frock muddy; her father saw her, and called her a slut and a
peasant-wench. She grew hot all over, and there was something of
terror and rapture in her heart Katya often sang some half-brutal
soldier's song. Elena learnt this song from her. . . . Anna
Vassilyevna overheard her singing it, and was very indignant.

'Where did you pick up such horrors?' she asked her daughter.

Elena only looked at her mother, and would not say a word; she felt
that she would let them tear her to pieces sooner than betray her
secret, and again there was a terror and sweetness in her heart. Her
friendship with Katya, however, did not last long; the poor little
girl fell sick of fever, and in a few days she was dead.

Elena was greatly distressed, and spent sleepless nights for long
after she heard of Katya's death. The last words of the little