With a cold chill at my heart I read the bitter words of "The Old Beggar." Homeless worm, have I disturbed you? Crush me under your feet! Why be pitiful? Crush me quickly! Why is it that you have never taught me, Nor given me an outlet for my energy? From the grub an ant might have come. I might have died in the love of my fellows. But dying as an old tramp, I shall be avenged on the world! And directly after this I laughed till I cried over the "Weeping Husband." I remembered especially the words of Béranger: A happy science of life Is not hard for the simple. Béranger aroused me to moods of joyfulness, to a desire to be saucy, and to say something rude to people,--rude, sharp words. In a very short time I had become proficient in this art. His verses I learned by heart, and recited them with pleasure to the orderlies, running into the kitchen, where they sat for a few minutes at a time. But I soon had to give this up because the lines, But such a hat is not becoming To a young girl of seventeen, gave rise to an offensive conversation about girls that made me furiously disgusted, and I hit the soldier Ermokhin over the head with a saucepan. Sidorov and the other orderlies tore me away from his clumsy hands, but I made up my mind from that time to go no more to the officers' kitchen. I was not allowed to walk about the streets. In fact, there was no time for it, since the work had so increased. Now, in addition to my usual duties as housemaid, yardman, and errand-boy, I had to nail calico to wide boards, fasten the plans thereto, and copy calculations for my master's architectural work. I also had to verify the contractor's accounts, for my master worked from morning to night, like a machine. At that time the public buildings of the _Yarmarka_[1] were private property. Rows of shops were built very rapidly, and my master had the contracts for the reconstruction of old shops and the erection of new ones. He drew up plans for the rebuilding of vaults, the throwing out of a dormer-window, and such changes. I took the plans to an old architect, together with an envelop in which was hidden paper money to the value of twenty-five rubles. The architect took the money, and wrote under the plans: "The plans are correct, and the inspection of the work has been performed by me. Imraik." As a matter of fact, he had not seen the original of the plans, and he could not inspect the work, as he was always obliged to stay at home by reason of his malady. [Footnote 1: Market-place.]