"And do you know why they all like me? Because I understand what their souls need."
"Indeed?" exclaimed Kouvalda interrogatively.
"I know how to make women pity me. And when a woman's pity is aroused, she can even kill, out of pure pity! Weep before her, and implore her to kill; she will have pity on you, and will kill."
"It's I who would kill!" exclaimed Martianoff, in a decided voice, with a dark scowl.
"Whom do you mean?" asked "Scraps," edging away from him.
"It's all the same to me! Petounnikoff—Jegorka—you if you like!"
"Why?" asked Kouvalda, with aroused interest.
"I want to be sent to Siberia. I'm tired of this stupid life. There one will know what to do with one's life."
"H'm!" said the captain reflectively. "You will indeed know what to do with your life there!"
Nothing more was spoken about Petounnikoff, nor of their impending expulsion from the doss-house. All were sure that this expulsion was imminent, was perhaps a matter of a few days only; and they therefore considered it useless to discuss the point further. Discussion wouldn't make it easier; besides, it was not cold yet, though the rainy season had begun. One could sleep on the ground anywhere outside the town.