daughters of whores must be asleep," he comments. "Hi,
women!"

"What is it?" drily inquires the woman from Riazan.

"Should you like a taste of water-melon?"

"I should, thank you."

Thereupon, Konev begins to make his way towards the voice.

"Yes, bread, soft wheaten bread such as you--"

Here the other woman whines in beggar fashion:

"And give ME a taste, too."

"Oh, yes, I will. But where the devil are you?"

"And a taste of melon as well?"

"Yes, certainly. Hullo! Who is this?"

From the woman from Riazan comes a cry of pain.

"Mind how you step, wretch!" she exclaims.

"All right, but you needn't make so much noise about it. You see how
dark it is, and I--"

"You ought to have struck a match, then."

"I possess but a quarter of a match, for matches are not
over-plentiful, and even if I did catch hold of you no great harm can
have been done. For instance, when your husband used to beat you he
must have hurt you far worse than I. By the way, DID he beat you?"

"What business is that of yours?"

"None; only, I am curious to know. Surely a woman like you--"

"See here. Do not dare to touch me, or I--"

"Or you what?"

There ensues a prolonged altercation amid which I can hear epithets of
increasing acerbity and opprobrium being applied; until the woman from
Riazan exclaims hoarsely:

"Oh, you coward of a man, take that!"

Whereupon follows a scrimmage amid which I can distinguish slappings,
gross chuckles from Konev, and a muffled cry from the younger woman of:

"Oh, do not so behave, you wretch!"

Striking a match, I approach the spot, and pull Konev away. He is in no
way abashed, but merely cooled in his ardour as, seated on the floor at
my feet, and panting and expectorating, he says reprovingly to the
woman:

"When folk wish merely to have a game with you, you ought not to let
yourself lose your temper. Fie, fie!"

"Are you hurt?" the woman inquires quietly.

"What do you suppose? You have cut my lip, but that is the worst
damage."

"Then if you come here again I will lay the whole of your face open."

"Vixen! What bumpkinish stupidity!"

Konev turns to myself.

"And as for you, you go catching at the first thing you find, and have
torn my coat."

"Then do not insult people."

"INSULT people, fool? The idea of anyone insulting a woman like THAT!"

Whereafter, with a mean chuckle, the fellow goes on to discourse upon
the ease with which peasant women err, and upon thei