“Ah, well, what is one to do with you; stay a bit longer, if you like.”  The sergeant was about to go when another sergeant, followed by a convict, a spare man with a thin beard and a bruise under his eye, came in.

“It’s about the girl I have come,” said the convict.

“Here’s daddy come,” came the ringing accents of a child’s voice, and a flaxen head appeared from behind Rintzeva, who, with Katusha’s and Mary Pavlovna’s help, was making a new garment for the child out of one of Rintzeva’s own petticoats.

“Yes, daughter, it’s me,” Bousovkin, the prisoner, said softly.

“She is quite comfortable here,” said Mary Pavlovna, looking with pity at Bousovkin’s bruised face.  “Leave her with us.”

“The ladies are making me new clothes,” said the girl, pointing to Rintzeva’s sewing—­“nice red ones,” she went on, prattling.

“Do you wish to sleep with us?” asked Rintzeva, caressing the child.

“Yes, I wish.  And daddy, too.”

“No, daddy can’t.  Well, leave her then,” she said, turning to the father.

“Yes, you may leave her,” said the first sergeant, and went out with the other.

As soon as they were out of the room Nabatoff went up to Bousovkin, slapped him on the shoulder, and said:  “I say, old fellow, is it true that Karmanoff wishes to exchange?”

Bousovkin’s kindly, gentle face turned suddenly sad and a veil seemed to dim his eyes.

“We have heard nothing—­hardly,” he said, and with the same dimness still over his eyes he turned to the child.

“Well, Aksutka, it seems you’re to make yourself comfortable with the ladies,” and he hurried away.

“It’s true about the exchange, and he knows it very well,” said Nabatoff.

“What are you going to do?”

“I shall tell the authorities in the next town.  I know both prisoners by sight,” said Nekhludoff.

All were silent, fearing a recommencement of the dispute.

Simonson, who had been lying with his arms thrown back behind his head, and not speaking, rose, and determinately walked up to Nekhludoff, carefully passing round those who were sitting.

“Could you listen to me now?”

“Of course,” and Nekhludoff rose and followed him.

Katusha looked up with an expression of suspense, and meeting Nekhludoff’s eyes, she blushed and shook her head.

“What I want to speak to you about is this,” Simonson began, when they had come out into the passage.  In the passage the din of the criminal’s voices and shouts sounded louder.  Nekhludoff made a face, but Simonson did not seem to take any notice.

“Knowing of your relations to Katerina Maslova,” he began seriously and frankly, with his kind eyes looking straight into Nekhludoff’s face, “I consider it my duty”—­He was obliged to stop because two voices were heard disputing and shouting, both at once, close to the door.