looked at her fixedly, deeply, and calmly. Jennie's eyes were
sad, and as though vacant. The living fire had become extinguished in
them, and they seemed turbid, just as though faded, with whites like
moonstone.

"No," Tamara said at last, quietly but firmly. "If it was on account of
love, I'd interfere; if it was on account of money, I'd talk you out of
it: but there are cases where one must not interfere. I wouldn't help,
of course; but I also wouldn't seize you and interfere with you."

At this moment the quick-limbed housekeeper Zociya whirled through the
corridor with an outcry:

"Ladies, get dressed! The doctor has arrived ... Ladies, get dressed!
... Lively, ladies! ..."

"Well, go on, Tamara, go on," said Jennka tenderly, getting up. "I'll
run into my room for just a minute--I haven't changed my dress yet,
although, to tell the truth, this also is all one. When they'll be
calling out for me, and I don't come in time, call out, run in after
me."

And, going out of Tamara's room, she embraced her by the shoulder, as
though by chance, and stroked it tenderly.

Doctor Klimenko--the official city doctor--was preparing in the parlor
everything indispensable for an inspection--vaseline, a solution of
sublimate, and other things--and was placing them on a separate little
table. Here also were arranged for him the white blanks of the girls,
replacing their passports, as well as a general alphabetical list. The
girls, dressed only in their chemises, stockings, and slippers, were
standing and sitting at a distance. Nearer the table was standing the
proprietress herself--Anna Markovna--while a little behind her were
Emma Edwardovna and Zociya.

The doctor--aged, disheartened, slovenly; a man indifferent to
everything--put the pince-nez crookedly upon his nose, looked at the
list, and called out:

"Alexandra Budzinskaya! ..."

The frowning, little, pug-nosed Nina stepped out. Preserving on her
face an angry expression, and breathing heavily from shame, from the
consciousness of her own awkwardness, and from the exertions, she
clumsily climbed up on the table. The doctor, squinting through his
pince-nez and dropping it every minute, carried out the inspection.

"Go ahead! ... You're sound."

And on the reverse side of the blank he marked off: "Twenty-eighth of
August. Sound" and put down a curly-cue. And when he had not even
finished writing called out:

"Voshchenkova, Irene! ..."

Now it was the turn of Liu