teeth, while Paklin shook his head and repeated, now without the faintest trace of a smile, 'No! I'm not always laughing! I'm anything but a light-hearted person! You need only look at me!'
Ostrodumov did look at him. And, in fact, when Paklin was not laughing, when he was silent, his face wore an expression almost of dejection, almost of terror; it became humorous and even malicious directly he opened his mouth. Ostrodumov said nothing, however.
Paklin again turned to Mashurina.
'Well, and how are your studies progressing? Are you successful in your truly philanthropic art? I should guess it's a difficult job helping the inexperienced citizen on his first entrance into the light of day?'
'No, not at all difficult, so long as he's not much bigger than you,' answered Mashurina, who had just taken her diploma as a midwife; and she smiled complacently. A year and a half before, she had left her own people, a family of poor nobles in South Russia, and had come to Petersburg with six roubles in her pocket; she had entered a lying-in institution, and by unceasing hard work had gained the coveted diploma. She was a single woman . . . and a very chaste single woman. Nothing wonderful in that, some sceptic will say, remem-
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