“Hurrah! new wenches have joined our place!”

This was altogether an unexpected thing.  The baroness did a still greater tactlessness.  She said: 

“I am a patroness of a convent for fallen girls, and therefore, as a part of my duty, I must gather information about you.”

But here Jennka instantly flared up: 

“Get out of here right away, you old fool!  You rag!  You floor mop! ..  Your Magdalene asylums—­they’re worse than a prison.  Your secretaries use us, like dogs carrion.  Your fathers, husbands, and brothers come to us, and we infect them with all sorts of diseases ...  Purposely ..  And they in their turn infect you.  Your female superintendents live with the drivers, janitors and policemen, while we are put in a cell if we happen to laugh or joke a little among ourselves.  And so, if you’ve come here as to a theatre, then you must hear the truth out, straight to your face.”

But Tamara calmly stopped her: 

“Stop, Jennie, I will tell them myself ...  Can it be that you really think, baroness, that we are worse than the so-called respectable women?  A man comes to me, pays me two roubles for a visit or five roubles for a night, and I don’t in the least conceal this, from any one in the world ...  But tell me, baroness, do you possibly know even one married lady with a family who isn’t in secret giving herself up either for the sake of passion to a young man, or for the sake of money to an old one?  I know very well that fifty percent of you are kept by lovers, while the remaining fifty, of those who are older, keep young lads.  I also know that many—­ah, how many!—­of you cohabit with your fathers, brothers, and even sons, but these secrets you hide in some sort of a hidden casket.  And that’s all the difference between us.  We are fallen, but we don’t lie and don’t pretend, but you all fall, and lie to boot.  Think it over for yourself; now—­in whose favour is this difference?”

“Bravo, Tamarochka, that’s the way to serve them!” shouted Manka, without getting up from the floor; dishevelled, fair, curly, resembling at this moment a thirteen-year-old girl.

“Now, now!” urged Jennka as well, flashing with her flaming eyes.

“Why not, Jennechka?  I’ll go further than that.  Out of us scarcely, scarcely one in a thousand has committed abortion.  But all of you several times over.  What?  Or isn’t that the truth?  And those of you who’ve done this, did it not out of desperation or cruel poverty, but you simply were afraid of spoiling your figure and beauty—­that’s your sole capital!  Or else you’ve been seeking only beastly carnal pleasure, while pregnancy and feeding interfered with your giving yourself up to it!”

Rovinskaya became confused and uttered in a quick whisper: 

“Faites attention, baronne, que dans sa position cette demoiselle est instruite.” [Footnote:  “Pay attention, baroness, the girl is rather educated for one of her position.”]