It so happened that, after many fruitless attempts to find a situation, Katusha again went to the registry office, and there met a woman with bracelets on her bare, plump arms and rings on most of her fingers.  Hearing that Katusha was badly in want of a place, the woman gave her her address, and invited her to come to her house.  Katusha went.  The woman received her very kindly, set cake and sweet wine before her, then wrote a note and gave it to a servant to take to somebody.  In the evening a tall man, with long, grey hair and a white beard, entered the room, and sat down at once near Katusha, smiling and gazing at her with glistening eyes.  He began joking with her.  The hostess called him away into the next room, and Katusha heard her say, “A fresh one from the country,” Then the hostess called Katusha aside and told her that the man was an author, and that he had a great deal of money, and that if he liked her he would not grudge her anything.  He did like her, and gave her 25 roubles, promising to see her often.  The 25 roubles soon went; some she paid to her aunt for board and lodging; the rest was spent on a hat, ribbons, and such like.  A few days later the author sent for her, and she went.  He gave her another 25 roubles, and offered her a separate lodging.

Next door to the lodging rented for her by the author there lived a jolly young shopman, with whom Katusha soon fell in love.  She told the author, and moved to a little lodging of her own.  The shopman, who promised to marry her, went to Nijni on business without mentioning it to her, having evidently thrown her up, and Katusha remained alone.  She meant to continue living in the lodging by herself, but was informed by the police that in this case she would have to get a license.  She returned to her aunt.  Seeing her fine dress, her hat, and mantle, her aunt no longer offered her laundry work.  As she understood things, her niece had risen above that sort of thing.  The question as to whether she was to become a laundress or not did not occur to Katusha, either.  She looked with pity at the thin, hard-worked laundresses, some already in consumption, who stood washing or ironing with their thin arms in the fearfully hot front room, which was always full of soapy steam and draughts from the windows, and thought with horror that she might have shared the same fate.

Katusha had begun to smoke some time before, and since the young shopman had thrown her up she was getting more and more into the habit of drinking.  It was not so much the flavour of wine that tempted her as the fact that it gave her a chance of forgetting the misery she suffered, making her feel more unrestrained and more confident of her own worth, which she was not when quite sober; without wine she felt sad and ashamed.  Just at this time a woman came along who offered to place her in one of the largest establishments in the city, explaining all the advantages and benefits of the situation.  Katusha had the choice before