“Dear me, you have grown old, your honour; and you used to be as fresh as a daisy.  And now!  Cares also, I expect?”

“This is what I have come about:  Do you remember Katusha Maslova?”

“Katerina?  I should think so.  Why, she is my niece.  How could I help remembering; and the tears I have shed because of her.  Why, I know all about it.  Eh, sir, who has not sinned before God? who has not offended against the Tsar?  We know what youth is.  You used to be drinking tea and coffee, so the devil got hold of you.  He is strong at times.  What’s to be done?  Now, if you had chucked her; but no, just see how you rewarded her, gave her a hundred roubles.  And she?  What has she done?  Had she but listened to me she might have lived all right.  I must say the truth, though she is my niece:  that girl’s no good.  What a good place I found her!  She would not submit, but abused her master.  Is it for the likes of us to scold gentlefolk?  Well, she was sent away.  And then at the forester’s.  She might have lived there; but no, she would not.”

“I want to know about the child.  She was confined at your house, was she not?  Where’s the child?”

“As to the child, I considered that well at the time.  She was so bad I never thought she would get up again.  Well, so I christened the baby quite properly, and we sent it to the Foundlings’.  Why should one let an innocent soul languish when the mother is dying?  Others do like this:  they just leave the baby, don’t feed it, and it wastes away.  But, thinks I, no; I’d rather take some trouble, and send it to the Foundlings’.  There was money enough, so I sent it off.”

“Did you not get its registration number from the Foundlings’ Hospital?”

“Yes, there was a number, but the baby died,” she said.  “It died as soon as she brought it there.”

“Who is she?”

“That same woman who used to live in Skorodno.  She made a business of it.  Her name was Malania.  She’s dead now.  She was a wise woman.  What do you think she used to do?  They’d bring her a baby, and she’d keep it and feed it; and she’d feed it until she had enough of them to take to the Foundlings’.  When she had three or four, she’d take them all at once.  She had such a clever arrangement, a sort of big cradle—­a double one she could put them in one way or the other.  It had a handle.  So she’d put four of them in, feet to feet and the heads apart, so that they should not knock against each other.  And so she took four at once.  She’d put some pap in a rag into their mouths to keep ’em silent, the pets.”

“Well, go on.”

“Well, she took Katerina’s baby in the same way, after keeping it a fortnight, I believe.  It was in her house it began to sicken.”

“And was it a fine baby?” Nekhludoff asked.

“Such a baby, that if you wanted a finer you could not find one.  Your very image,” the old woman added, with a wink.

“Why did it sicken?  Was the food bad?”