“I’d have to take a long time in telling it ... And then I’m too lazy ... I got in here out of love; I got mixed up with a certain young man and went into a revolution with him. For we always act so, we women: where the dearie is looking, there we also look; what the dearie sees, that we also see ... I didn’t believe at soul in his work, but I went. A flattering man he was; smart, a good talker, a good looker ... Only he proved to be a skunk and a traitor afterwards. He played at revolution; while he himself gave his comrades away to the gendarmes. A stool-pigeon, he was. When they had killed and shown him up, then all the foolishness left me. However, it was necessary to conceal myself ... I changed my passport. Then they advised me, that the easiest thing of all was to screen myself with a yellow ticket ... And then the fun began! ... And even here I’m on a sort of pasture ground; when the time comes, the successful moment arrives—I’ll go away!” “Where?” asked Jennie with impatience. “The world is large ... And I love life! ... There, now, I was the same way in the convent: I lived on and I lived on; sang antiphonies and dulias, until I had rested up, and had finally grown weary of it; and then all at once—hop! and into a cabaret ... Wasn’t that some jump? The same way out of here ... I’ll get into a theatre, into a circus, into a corps de ballet ... but do you know, Jennechka, I’m drawn to the thieving trade the most, after all ... Daring, dangerous, hard, and somehow intoxicating ... It’s drawing me! ... Don’t you mind that I’m so respectable and modest, and can appear an educated young lady. I’m entirely, entirely different.” Her eyes suddenly blazed up, vividly and gaily. “There’s a devil dwells in me!” “It’s all very well for you,” pensively and with weariness pronounced Jennie. “You at least desire something, but my soul is some sort of carrion ... I’m twenty-five years old, now; but my soul is like that of an old woman, shrivelled up, smelling of the earth ... And if I had only lived sensibly! ... Ugh! ... There was only some sort of slush.” “Drop it, Jennka; you’re talking foolishly. You’re smart, you’re original; you have that special power before which men crawl and creep so willingly. You go away from here, too. Not with me, of course—I’m always single—but go away all by your own self.” Jennka shook her head and quietly, without tears, hid her face in her palms.