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MASLOVA’S gang of prisoners travelled for about three thousand miles. As far as Perm she went by rail and steamboat with the other prisoners sentenced for criminal offences, and it was only at this town that Nekhlyudov succeeded in having her transferred to the ‘political’ group, as Vera Bogodoukhovskaya, herself with the politicals, had advised him to do.
The journey to Perm had been very trying for Maslova, both physically and morally: physically, because of the over-crowding, the filth and the disgusting vermin which gave her no peace; and morally, because of the no less disgusting men who, though some got out and new ones got in at every stop, swarmed round and stuck to her, giving her no peace, like the vermin. Habits of cynical debauchery were so firmly established among the women convicts, men convicts, warders and soldiers of the escort that unless a woman was willing to prostitute herself she had to be constantly on her guard, especially if she were a young woman. And this continual state of fear, and always having to fight to keep men off, was very wearing; and Maslova was one of those who suffered most from such attacks, her appearance being attractive and her past known to everyone. The determined resistance with which she met the men who pestered her was taken as a direct insult and, in addition, roused a feeling of resentment against her. In this respect her position was made a little easier by her friendship with Fedosya and Tarass, who, on learning of the molestations his wife was subject to, had got himself arrested so that he could protect her, and from Nizhni onwards had travelled as a convict with the others.
Maslova’s transfer to the party of political prisoners made her position much more bearable in every way. To say nothing of the fact that the politicals were provided with better accommodation and better food, and were less roughly treated, her condition was improved in that she no longer had to suffer annoyance from men, and could live without being reminded at every turn of that past she was so anxious to forget now. But the main advantage of the change was that she met some people whose influence on her was definitely most beneficial.
Whenever they came to a halting-place Maslova was allowed to be with the political prisoners, but as she was a strong healthy woman she had to march with the criminal convicts. Thus the whole journey from Tomsk she made on foot. Two of the politicals also marched with her, Marya Pavlovna Shchetinina, the pretty girl with the gentle eyes of a sheep who had so impressed Nekhlyudov when he visited Bogodoukhovskaya in prison, and a certain Simonson, the dishevelled dark young fellow with deep-set eyes whom Nekhlyudov had also noticed during the same visit and who was being deported to the Yakutsk region. Marya Pavlovna went on foot because she had given up her place on the cart to a woman criminal who was pregnant; and Simonson because he did not think it right to avail himself of a class privilege. These three used to set off in the early morning with the convicts, leaving the other politicals to start later in the day and follow by cart. This, then, was the arrangement at the last halting-place before they arrived at a big town where a new convoy officer took charge of the party.
It was early on a wet September morning. It snowed and it rained, and a cold wind blew in gusts. All the convicts in the party – about four hundred men and around fifty women – were already assembled in the yard of the halting-place, some of them crowding round the chief of the convoy, who was distributing money for two days’ rations to orderlies chosen from among the prisoners; others were bargaining with the women-hawkers who had been admitted into the yard to sell food. The voices of the prisoners counting their money and making purchases mingled with the shrill treble of the women-vendors.
Katusha and Marya Pavlovna, both wearing knee-boots and short sheepskin coats, with shawls over their heads, came out of the building into the courtyard, where the hawkers sat sheltered from the wind, under the north wall of the yard, vying with one another in offering their goods: freshly baked pasties made of sifted flour, fish, vermicelli, buckwheat porridge, liver, beef, eggs and milk; one even had a roast pig to sell.
Simonson, in a waterproof jacket and rubber galoshes tied with string over his worsted stockings (he was a vegetarian and did not use the skin of slaughtered animals), was also in the yard waiting for the party to start. Standing by the porch, he was jotting down in his notebook a thought that had just occurred to him: ‘If a bacillus were to observe and examine a human finger-nail, it would pronounce it to be inorganic matter. Similarly we, after observing the earth’s crust, declare the terrestrial globe to be inorganic matter. This is not correct.’
Having bought eggs, a string of thick ring-shaped rolls, fish and fresh white bread, Maslova was packing them all into a sack while Marya Pavlovna paid the hawkers, when there was a stir among the prisoners. Everyone stopped talking and began to take their places for the march. The officer came out and gave the final orders before they started.
Everything proceeded as usual: the prisoners were counted, the chains on their legs inspected, and the men handcuffed in pairs. But suddenly the officer was heard shouting angrily. This was followed by the sound of blows falling on a human body, and the crying of a child. For a moment there was a hush, and then a hollow murmur ran through the crowd. Maslova and Marya Pavlovna went towards the spot the noise was coming from.