n poisoned; the police came and took Mashenka away, and with her
the innocent Kuzka. They were put in prison.... The woman had gone too
far--God punished her.... Eight months later they tried her. She sat,
I remember, on a low stool, with a little white kerchief on her head,
wearing a grey gown, and she was so thin, so pale, so sharp-eyed it made
one sad to look at her. Behind her stood a soldier with a gun. She
would not confess her guilt. Some in the court said she had poisoned her
husband and others declared he had poisoned himself for grief. I was
one of the witnesses. When they questioned me, I told the whole truth
according to my oath. 'Hers,' said I, 'is the guilt. It's no good to
conceal it; she did not love her husband, and she had a will of her
own....' The trial began in the morning and towards night they passed
this sentence: to send her to hard labour in Siberia for thirteen years.
After that sentence Mashenka remained three months longer in prison. I
went to see her, and from Christian charity I took her a little tea and
sugar. But as soon as she set eyes on me she began to shake all over,
wringing her hands and muttering: 'Go away! go away!' And Kuzka she
clasped to her as though she were afraid I would take him away. 'See,'
said I, 'what you have come to! Ah, Masha, Masha! you would not listen
to me when I gave you good advice, and now you must repent it. You are
yourself to blame,' said I; 'blame yourself!' I was giving her good
counsel, but she: 'Go away, go away!' huddling herself and Kuzka against
the wall, and trembling all over.

"When they were taking her away to the chief town of our province, I
walked by the escort as far as the station and slipped a rouble into
her bundle for my soul's salvation. But she did not get as far as
Siberia.... She fell sick of fever and died in prison."

"Live like a dog and you must die a dog's death," said Dyudya.

"Kuzka was sent back home.... I thought it over and took him to bring
up. After all--though a convict's child--still he was a living soul, a
Christian.... I was sorry for him. I shall make him my clerk, and if I
have no children of my own, I'll make a merchant of him. Wherever I go
now, I take him with me; let him learn his work."

All the while Matvey Savitch had been telling his story, Kuzka had sat
on a little stone near the gate. His head propped in both hands, he
gazed at the sky, and in the distance he looked in the dark like a stump
of wood.