y of such a supposition.

When we saw this woman with the baby, we thought that it was her child.
To the question, "Who was she?" she had replied in a straightforward way
that she was unmarried. She did not say--a prostitute. Only the master
of the apartment made use of that frightful word. The supposition that
she had a child suggested to me the idea of removing her from her
position. I inquired:

"Is this your child?"

"No, it belongs to that woman yonder."

"Why are you taking care of it?"

"Because she asked me; she is dying."

Although my supposition proved to be erroneous, I continued my
conversation with her in the same spirit. I began to question her as to
who she was, and how she had come to such a state. She related her
history very readily and simply. She was a Moscow _myeshchanka_, the
daughter of a factory hand. She had been left an orphan, and had been
adopted by an aunt. From her aunt's she had begun to frequent the
taverns. The aunt was now dead. When I asked her whether she did not
wish to alter her mode of life, my question, evidently, did not even
arouse her interest. How can one take an interest in the proposition of
a man, in regard to something absolutely impossible? She laughed, and
said: "And who would take me in with my yellow ticket?"

"Well, but if a place could be found somewhere as cook?" said I.

This thought occurred to me because she was a stout, ruddy woman, with a
kindly, round, and rather stupid face. Cooks are often like that. My
words evidently did not please her. She repeated:

"A cook--but I don't know how to make bread," said she, and she laughed.
She said that she did not know how; but I saw from the expression of her
countenance that she did not wish to become a cook, that she regarded the
position and calling of a cook as low.

This woman, who in the simplest possible manner was sacrificing every
thing that she had for the sick woman, like the widow in the Gospels, at
the same time, like many of her companions, regarded the position of a
person who works as low and deserving of scorn. She had been brought up
to live not by work, but by this life which was considered the natural
one for her by those about her. In that lay her misfortune. And she
fell in with this misfortune and clung to her position. This led her to
frequent the taverns. Which of us--man or woman--will correct her false
view of life? Where among us are the people to be found who