When at five o'clock the following morning, which was Sunday, the
customary whistle blew, Korableva, who was already awake, roused
Maslova.
"A convict," Maslova thought with horror, rubbing her eyes and
involuntarily inhaling the foul morning air. She wished to fall
asleep again, to transfer herself into a state of unconsciousness, but
fear overcame her drowsiness. She raised herself, crossed her legs
under her, and looked around. The women were already up, only the
children were still sleeping. The moonshining woman with bulging eyes
was carefully removing her coat from under them. The rioter was drying
near the oven some rags which served for swaddling cloths, while the
child, in the hands of the blue-eyed Theodosia, was crying at the top
of its lungs, the woman lulling it in a gentle voice. The consumptive,
seizing her breast, coughed violently, and, sighing at intervals,
almost screamed. The red-headed woman lay prone on her back relating a
dream she had had. The old incendiary stood before the image,
whispering the same words, crossing herself and bowing. The chanter's
daughter sat motionless on her cot, and with dull, half-open eyes was
looking into space. Miss Dandy was curling on her finger her oily,
rough, black hair.
Presently resounding steps were heard in the corridor, the lock
creaked open, and two prisoners in short jackets and gray trousers
scarcely reaching their ankles entered, and, raising the ill-smelling
vat on a yoke, carried it away. The women went to the faucets in the
corridor to wash themselves. The red-headed woman got into a quarrel
with a woman from the adjoining cell. Again there were cursing,
shouting and complaints.
"You will get into the dark-room yet," shouted the warden, and he
slapped the red-headed woman on her fat, bare back, so that it
resounded through the entire corridor. "Don't let me hear you again."
"Fooling again, you old man?" she said, treating it as a caress.
"Hurry up! It is time for mass."
Scarcely had Maslova arranged her hair when the inspector entered with
his attendants.
"Make ready for inspection!" shouted the warden.
The women of the two cells formed in two rows along the corridor,
those of the back row placing their hands on the shoulders of the
women in the front row. Then they were counted.
After the count came the woman inspector and led the prisoners to the
church. Maslova and Theodosia were in the middle of the column, which
consisted of over a hundred women from all the cells. They all had
white 'kerchiefs on their heads, and some few wore their own colored
dresses. These were the wives and children of convicts. The procession
covered the whole stairway. A soft clatter of prison shoes was heard,
here and there some conversation, and sometimes laughter. At a turn
Maslova noticed the malicious face of her enemy, Bochkova, who was
walking in the front row, and pointed her out to Theodosia. At the
foot of the stairs the women became silent, and, making the sign of
the cross and bowing, they filed into the open door of the empty,
gold-bedecked chapel. Their place was on the right, where, crowding
each other, they began to arrange themselves in rows, standing. Behind
the women came the male convicts who were serving terms or detained
for transportation under sentence by the communities. Loudly clearing
their throats, they formed a dense crowd on the left and the middle of
the chapel. Above, on the gallery, were other convicts with heads half
shaven, whose presence was manifested by a clanking of chains.
This prison chapel had been rebuilt and remodeled by a rich merchant,
who had spent about thirty thousand rubles on it, and it was all
ornamented with gilt and bright colors.
For a few seconds there was silence, which was broken only by the
blowing of noses, coughing, and clanking of chains. Suddenly the
prisoners who stood in the middle began to press back, making a
passage for the inspector, who walked to the middle of the chapel, and
the services commenced.