"I'm afraid—he'll come," she said, and shook her head.
"We'll turn him out."
"He's strong," Masha warned him.
"Have you run away?"
"Yes—it's the fourth time—when I can't bear it any more, I run away—before I meant to drown myself—but he caught me—and beat me and hurt me so." Her eyes grew unnaturally big from the fear her memories roused, and her lower jaw trembled. She hung her head and said in a whisper:
"He always hurts my feet."
"Ah," cried Ilya. "What's the matter with you? Haven't you a tongue? Tell the police—say—he tortures me! He can be punished for that; put in prison."
"But—he's one of the judges," said Masha, hopelessly.
"Ehrenov?—a judge? What do you mean?"
"I know. A little while ago, he was on the bench for two weeks—judging. He came back angry and hungry. He pinched my breast with the tongs and twisted it and turned it like a rag—look!"