ng, to bolt into the ravine, or to let down their owners upon
subservient bellies in expectation of a probable kick or curse.

In short, every cranny of every cot in the place, with the grimy panes
of their windows, and their lathed roofs overgrown with velvety moss,
breathes forth the universal, deadly hopelessness induced by Russia's
crushing poverty.

In the Tolmachikhans' backyards grow only alders, elders, and weeds.
Everywhere docks thrust up heads through cracks in the fences to catch
at the legs or the skirts of passers-by, while masses of nettles
squeeze their way under fences to sting little children. Apropos, the
latter are all thin and hungry, in the highest degree quarrelsome, and
addicted to prolonged lamentation. Also, each spring sees a certain
proportion of their number carried off by diphtheria, while scarlatina
and measles are as epidemic among them as is typhoid among their elders.

Thus the sounds of life most to be heard throughout the suburb are the
sounds either of weeping or of mad cursing. In general, however, life
in Tolmachikha is lived quietly and lethargically. So much is this the
case that in spring even the cats forbear to squall save in crushed and
subdued accents. The only local person to sing is Felitzata; and even
she does so only when she is drunk. It may be said that Felitzata is a
saucy, cunning procuress, and does her singing in a peculiarly thick
and rasping voice which, with many croaks and hiatuses, necessitates
much closing of the eyes, and a great protruding of the apple of the
throat. Indeed, it is only the women of the place who, turbulently
quarrelsome and hysterically noisy, spend most of the day in scouring
the streets with skirts tucked up, and never cease begging for pinches
of salt or flour or spoonfuls of oil as they rail and screech at and
beat their children, and thrust withered breasts into their babies'
mouths, and rush and fling themselves about, and bawl in a constant
endeavour to right their woebegone condition. Yes, all are dishevelled
and dirty, and have wizened, bony faces, and the restless eyes of
thieves. Never, indeed, is a woman plump of figure, save at the period
when she is ill, and her eyes are dim, and her gait is laboured. Yet
until they are forty, the majority of the women become pregnant with
every winter, and on the arrival of spring may be seen walking abroad
with large stomachs and blue hollows under the eyes. And even this does
not prevent