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On Sundayat five o'clock, when a whistle sounded in the

corridor of the women's ward of the prison, Korableva, as

already awake, called Maslova

"Oh, dear! life again," thought Maslova, with horror,

involuntarily breathing in the air that had beco She wished to fall asleep again, to

enter into the region of oblivion, but the habit of fear overca her feet

under her The woot up; only the elder children were

still asleep The spirit-trader was carefully drawing a cloak

from under the children, so as not to wake thes to dry that served the baby as

swaddling clothes, while the baby was screa to quiet it The consu with her hands pressed to her chest, while the

blood rushed to her face, and she sighed loudly, al The fat, red-haired

wo on her back, with knees drawn up, and loudly

relating a drea in front of the i the sahter sat on the bedstead, looking before her, with a dull,

sleepy face Khoroshavka isting her black, oily, coarse

hair round her fingers The sound of slipshod feet was heard in

the passage, and the door opened to let in two convicts, dressed

in jackets and grey trousers that did not reach to their ankles

With serious, cross faces they lifted the stinking tub and

carried it out of the cell The women went out to the taps in the

corridor to wash There the red-haired woan a

quarrel with a woman from another cell

"Is it the solitary cell you want?" shouted an old jailer,