and shouting. Even the consumptive came near them, and, coughing,
looked on. The children huddled together and cried. The noise
attracted the warden and the matron. They were finally parted.
Korableva loosened her gray braid and began to pick out the pieces of
torn hair, while the other held the tattered remnant of her shirt to
her breast--both shouting, explaining and complaining against one
another.

"I know it is the wine--I can smell it," said the matron. "I will tell
the superintendent to-morrow. Now, remove everything, or there will be
trouble. There is no time to listen to you. To your places, and be
silent!"

But for a long time there was no silence. The women continued to curse
each other; they began to relate how it all commenced, and whose fault
it was. The warden and matron finally departed; the women quieted down
and took to their cots. The old woman stood up before the image and
began to pray.

"Two Siberian convicts," suddenly said the red-haired woman in a
hoarse voice, accompanying every word with a torrent of abuse.

"Look out, or you will get it again," quickly answered Korableva,
adding similar revilement. Then they became silent.

"If they had not prevented me, I should have knocked out your eyes,"
the red-haired one began again, and again came a quick and sharp
retort.

Then came another interval of silence, followed by more abuse. The