The minister, a good-natured man at heart, was sincerely sorry for the pretty girl.  But he said to himself that he was bound to consider his high state duties imposed upon him, even though they did not imply much work and trouble.  So, when his former colleague, a chamberlain and a friend of the Turins, met him at a court ball and tried to rouse his pity for Turin and the girl Turchaninova, he shrugged his shoulders, stretching the red ribbon on his white waistcoat, and said:  “Je ne demanderais pas mieux que de relacher cette pauvre fillette, mais vous savez le devoir.”  And in the meantime Katia Turchaninova was kept in prison.  She was at times in a quiet mood, communicated with her fellow-prisoners by knocking on the walls, and read the books that were sent to her.  But then came days when she had fits of desperate fury, knocking with her fists against the wall, screaming and laughing like a mad-woman.

XXIII

One day Maria Semenovna came home from the treasurer’s office, where she had received her pension.  On her way she met a schoolmaster, a friend of hers.

“Good day, Maria Semenovna!  Have you received your money?” the schoolmaster asked, in a loud voice from the other side of the street.

“I have,” answered Maria Semenovna.  “But it was not much; just enough to fill the holes.”

“Oh, there must be some tidy pickings out of such a lot of money,” said the schoolmaster, and passed on, after having said good-bye.

“Good-bye,” said Maria Semenovna.  While she was looking at her friend, she met a tall man face to face, who had very long arms and a stern look in his eyes.  Coming to her house, she was very startled on again seeing the same man with the long arms, who had evidently followed her.  He remained standing another moment after she had gone in, then turned and walked away.

Maria Semenovna felt somewhat frightened at first.  But when she had entered the house, and had given her father and her nephew Fedia the presents she had brought for them, and she had patted the dog Treasure, who whined with joy, she forgot her fears.  She gave the money to her father and began to work, as there was always plenty for her to do.

The man she met face to face was Stepan.

After he had killed the innkeeper, he did not return to town.  Strange to say, he was not sorry to have committed that murder.  His mind went back to the murdered man over and over again during the following day; and he liked the recollection of having done the thing so skilfully, so cleverly, that nobody-would ever discover it, and he would not therefore be prevented from murdering other people in the same way.  Sitting in the public-house and having his tea, he looked at the people around him with the same thought how he should murder them.  In the evening he called at a carter’s, a man from his village, to spend the night at his house.  The carter was not in.