“May I athk where the young lady ith going?  Oi, Oi, Oi!  Thuch a big girl!  Travelling alone, without mamma?  Bought a ticket all by herthelf and travelth alone!  Ai!  What a howwid girl!  And where ith the girl’th mamma?” At this moment a tall, handsome, self-assured woman appeared from the Coupe and said calmly: 

“Get away from the child.  What a despicable thing to annoy strange children!”

Horizon jumped up on his feet and began to bustle: 

“Madam!  I could not restrain myself ...  Such a wonderful, such a magnificent and swell child!  A regular cupid!  You must understand, madam, I am a father myself—­I have children of my own ...  I could not restrain myself from delight! ...”

But the lady turned her back upon him, took the girl by the hand and went with her into the Coupe, leaving Horizon shuffling his feet and muttering his compliments and apologies.

Several times during the twenty-four hours Horizon would go into the third class, of two cars, separated from each other by almost the entire train.  In one care were sitting three handsome women, in the society of a black-bearded, taciturn, morose man.  Horizon and he would exchange strange phrases in some special jargon.  The women looked at him uneasily, as though wishing, yet not daring, to ask him about something.  Only once, toward noon, did one of them allow herself to utter: 

“Then that’s the truth?  That which you said about the place? ...  You understand—­I’m somewhat uneasy at heart!”

“Ah, what do you mean, Margarita Ivanovna?  If I said it, then it’s right, just like by the National Bank.  Listen, Lazer,” he turned to him of the beard.  “There will be a station right away.  Buy the girls all sorts of sandwiches, whichever they may desire.  The train stops here for twenty-five minutes.”

“I’d like to have bouillon,” hesitatingly uttered a little blonde, with hair like ripened rye, and with eyes like corn-flowers.

“My dear Bella, anything you please!  At the station I’ll go and see that they bring you bouillon with meat and even stuffed dumplings.  Don’t you trouble yourself, Lazer, I’ll do all that myself.”

In another car he had a whole nursery garden of women, twelve or fifteen people, under the leadership of an old, stout woman, with enormous, awesome, black eyebrows.  She spoke in a bass, while her fat chins, breasts, and stomachs swayed under a broad morning dress in time to the shaking of the car, just like apple jelly.  Neither the old woman nor the young women left the least doubts as to their profession.

The women were lolling on the benches, smoking, playing cards—­at “sixty-six,”—­drinking beer.  Frequently the male public of the car provoked them, and they swore back in unceremonious language, in hoarse voices.  The young people treated them with wine and cigarettes.