“It’s true she is a beggar!” he answered, and he went off into a noiseless laugh; there was laughter among the other convicts too. Everyone knew indeed that he had picked up with a beggar girl and had only given her ten kopecks in the course of six months.

“Well, what of it?” I asked, wanting to get rid of him at last.

He paused, looked at me feelingly and pronounced tenderly:

“Why, things being so, won’t you be kind enough to stand me a glass? I’ve been drinking tea all day, Alexandr Petrovitch,” he added with feeling, accepting the money I gave him, “I’ve been swilling tea till I am short of breath, and it’s gurgling in my belly like water in a bottle.”

When he was taking the money Bulkin’s mental agitation reached its utmost limits. He gesticulated like a man in despair, almost crying.