“Marusia, what ails you?”
“Mother,” I gasped, “let me have an axe. I am going to kill Afanasi.”
“Holy Mother, have mercy!” she exclaimed, raising her hands to Heaven, and falling on her knees, she implored me to come to my senses. But I was too frantic with rage. I seized an axe and ran home.
Afanasi returned, drunk, and began to taunt me with the loss of my precious savings. I was white with wrath and cursed him from the depth of my heart. He gripped a stool and threw it at me. I caught up the axe.
“I will kill you, you blood-sucker!” I screamed.
Afanasi was stupefied. He had not expected that from me. The desire to kill was irresistible. Mentally, I already gloated over his dead body and the freedom that it would bring me. I was ready to swing the axe at him....
Suddenly the door flew open and my father rushed in. He had been sent by my mother.
“Marusia, what are you doing?” he cried out, gripping my arm. The break was too abrupt, my nerves collapsed, and I fell unconscious to the floor. Upon awakening I found the police in the house, and I told them everything. Afanasi was taken to the police-station, while the police-officer, a very kind-hearted man, advised me to leave the town to get away from him.
I got my passport, but my money was gone. I could not afford to buy a ticket to Irkutsk, where Shura had moved from Barnaul. Determined to go at all costs I boarded a train without a ticket. The conductor discovered me on the way, and I cried and begged him to allow me to proceed. He proposed to hide me in the baggage car and take me to Irkutsk, upon his own conditions. Enraged, I pushed him violently from me.
“I will put you off at the next station,” he shouted at me, running out of the car. And he kept his word.