Ilya felt that he had no need to lie and was a little uncomfortable. He went upstairs, slowly, listening attentively lest any one should call to him. But there was no sound, save the roar of the storm, no one called him back and he returned to the woman in the garret, with a distinct, though shy, feeling of pleasure. Matiza set the sieve on her lap, and with her big fingers picked out the grey fragments of meat without a word, stuffed them into her mouth and began to eat noisily. Her teeth were large and sharp, and before she took a bite she looked at the morsel all round as though to select the most tasty side. Ilya looked at her insolently and tried to imagine how he would embrace her and kiss her, then again feared to conduct himself awkwardly and be laughed at. He turned hot and cold with the thoughts as they came. The wind swept over the house. It forced a way through the window in the roof, and rattled the door, and every time the door shook, Ilya trembled with anxiety lest any one should enter and surprise him. "Mayn't I bolt the door?" he said. Matiza nodded silently. Then she put the sieve on the stove, crossed herself before the picture of Saint Anna, and said devoutly: "Praise to thee, at least my hunger is satisfied. Ah! how little is enough for the children of men!" Ilya said nothing. She looked at him, sighed, and went on: "And who desires much, from him also much shall be desired." "Who will desire it?" "Why, God! Don't you know that?" Again Ilya did not reply. The name of God from her lips roused in him a sudden feeling, vague and not to be expressed in words, that resisted the desire of his mind. Matiza supported herself on the bed with her hands, raised up her big body and propped herself against the wall. Then she said in a careless voice: "Just now, while I was eating, I was thinking of Perfishka's daughter. I've thought about her for a long time. She lives there, with you and Jakov; it won't be good for her, I'm afraid; you will ruin the girl before her time, and then she'll be started on the road I travel, and my road is a foul, a damnable road, and the women and girls that go along it don't go upright as men should, but crawl like worms." She was silent for a while, looked at her hands as they lay on her knees, then went on again: "The girl is growing tall. I've asked all my acquaintances, cooks, and other women, to see if I could get a place for the child. No, they say there's no place; they say, 'sell her, it will be better for her,' they say, 'she'll get money and clothes, and somewhere to live'--it seems as though they're right. Many a rich man whose body is failing and his mind filthy, will buy a young girl, when women won't look at him any more, and will ruin her--the beast. Perhaps she has a good time with him, but it's disgusting, all the same, really, and it's better without that. Better for her to live hungry and in honour, than----"