"You live here, in a policeman's house. You see, they always catch her. Tell him to let her go, let her run away. She'll manage somehow. Is one not allowed to run away?" "You really came for that?" "Yes, why not? They ought not to stop her, tell them!" "Ah, you people!" cried Ilya, trying to think what he could do for Masha. Matiza rose from her chair, and shuffled carefully over the floor. She sighed and groaned, and she was not like a human being walking, but like an old, decayed tree falling slowly down. "Good-bye! We shan't meet again! I shall soon die," she murmured. "Thank you, thank you, my fine, trim fellow! Thank you!" As soon as she was gone, Tatiana hurried into Ilya's room, embraced him, and asked smiling: "That's the one--your first love, eh?" "Who?" asked Ilya slowly, absorbed in memories of Masha. "That horror----" Ilya unclasped her hands from his neck, and said moodily: "She can hardly drag one foot after the other, but she cares for those she loves." "Whom does she love?" asked the woman, and looked with wonder and curiosity at Ilya's anxious face. "Wait, Tatiana, wait! Don't make fun of her." He told her briefly of Masha, and asked: "What is to be done?" "Here, nothing," answered Tatiana, shrugging her shoulders. "By the law, the wife belongs to her husband, and no one has any right to take her from him." And, with the important air of one who knows the law well and is convinced of its stability, she explained at length that Masha must obey her husband. "She must just hang on for the present. Let her wait--he's old; he'll soon die. Then she'll be free, and all his money will go to her. And then you'll marry the rich young widow, eh?" She laughed and continued to instruct Ilya seriously. "It would be best for you to give up your old acquaintances. They're no use to you now, and they might get in your way. They're all so coarse and dirty--that one, for instance, you lent money to--such a skinny fellow, with wicked eyes." "Gratschev?" "Yes. What funny names common people have--Gratschev, Lunev, Petuchev, Skvarzov.--In our set the names are much better, prettier--Avtonomov, Korsakov--my father's name was Florianov. When I was a young girl I was courted by a lawyer, Gloriantov. Once at the skating, he stole my garter, and threatened to make a scandal if I did not go to his house to get it back----" Ilya listened, remembering his own past. He felt his soul bound by invisible threads fast to the house of Petrusha Filimonov, and it seemed this house would always hold him back from the peaceful life he longed for. XX.