The attendant was hurt by her want of confidence, and that was why he treated Maslova so brusquely.  Maslova was glad of the money, because it could give her the only thing she now desired.  “If I could but get cigarettes and take a whiff!” she said to herself, and all her thoughts centred on the one desire to smoke and drink.  She longed for spirits so that she tasted them and felt the strength they would give her; and she greedily breathed in the air when the fumes of tobacco reached her from the door of a room that opened into the corridor.  But she had to wait long, for the secretary, who should have given the order for her to go, forgot about the prisoners while talking and even disputing with one of the advocates about the article forbidden by the censor.

At last, about five o’clock, she was allowed to go, and was led away through the back door by her escort, the Nijni man and the Tchoovash.  Then, still within the entrance to the Law Courts, she gave them 50 copecks, asking them to get her two rolls and some cigarettes.  The Tchoovash laughed, took the money, and said, “All right; I’ll get ’em,” and really got her the rolls and the cigarettes and honestly returned the change.  She was not allowed to smoke on the way, and, with her craving unsatisfied, she continued her way to the prison.  When she was brought to the gate of the prison, a hundred convicts who had arrived by rail were being led in.  The convicts, bearded, clean-shaven, old, young, Russians, foreigners, some with their heads shaved and rattling with the chains on their feet, filled the anteroom with dust, noise and an acid smell of perspiration.  Passing Maslova, all the convicts looked at her, and some came up to her and brushed her as they passed.

“Ay, here’s a wench—­a fine one,” said one.

“My respects to you, miss,” said another, winking at her.  One dark man with a moustache, the rest of his face and the back of his head clean shaved, rattling with his chains and catching her feet in them, sprang near and embraced her.

“What! don’t you know your chum?  Come, come; don’t give yourself airs,” showing his teeth and his eyes glittering when she pushed him away.

“You rascal! what are you up to?” shouted the inspector’s assistant, coming in from behind.  The convict shrank back and jumped away.  The assistant assailed Maslova.

“What are you here for?”

Maslova was going to say she had been brought back from the Law Courts, but she was so tired that she did not care to speak.

“She has returned from the Law Courts, sir,” said one of the soldiers, coming forward with his fingers lifted to his cap.

“Well, hand her over to the chief warder.  I won’t have this sort of thing.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sokoloff, take her in!” shouted the assistant inspector.

The chief warder came up, gave Maslova a slap on the shoulder, and making a sign with his head for her to follow led her into the corridor of the women’s ward.  There she was searched, and as nothing prohibited was found on her (she had hidden her box of cigarettes inside a roll) she was led to the cell she had left in the morning.