"Yes, it would be a good thing to have a drop now," said Sergei, and persecuting Katerina Lvovna for Sonetka's amusement, he continued: "Well now, merchant's wife, for old friendship's sake treat us to some vodka. Don't be stingy. Remember, my ungracious one, our former love, how you and I, my joy, loved each other, how we passed long autumn nights together, and sent your relations in secret, without priest or deacon, to their eternal rest."
Katerina Lvovna was shivering with cold. Besides the cold that pierced through her wet clothes to the very bones, something more was going on in Katerina Lvovna. Her head was burning like fire; the dilated pupils of her eyes shone brightly, her eyes wandered wildly round, or looking before her, rested immovable on the rolling waves.
"Yes, I would gladly drink some vodka. I can bear it no longer," Sonetka chimed in.
"Merchant's wife, won't you stand us a drink?" Sergei continued to annoy her.
"Where's your conscience?" said Fiona, shaking her head reproachfully.
"It's no honour to yourself to have such a conscience," said the convict Gorushek in support of the soldier's wife.
"If you're not ashamed before her, ye might be ashamed for her, before others."
