The Awakening | Page 4

aunt's
husband was a bookbinder. Formerly he used to earn a competence, but
had lost his customers, and was now given to drink, spending
everything that came into his hands.
With the aid of a small laundry she was keeping, her aunt supported her
children as well as her husband. She offered Maslova work as a
washerwoman, but seeing what a hard life the washerwomen at her
aunt's establishment were leading, she searched through the intelligence
offices for a position as servant. She found such a place with a lady
who was living with her two student boys. A week after she had
entered upon her duties, the oldest son neglected his studies and made
life miserable for Maslova. The mother threw all blame upon Maslova
and discharged her. She was some time without any occupation. In one
of these intelligence offices she once met a lady richly dressed and
adorned with diamonds. This lady, learning of the condition of Maslova,
who was looking for a position, gave her her card and invited her to call.
The lady received Maslova affectionately, treated her to choice cakes
and sweet wine, while she dispatched her servant somewhere with a
note. In the evening a tall man with long hair just turning gray, and
gray beard, came into the room. The old man immediately seated
himself beside Maslova and began to jest. The hostess called him into
an adjoining room, and Maslova overheard her say: "As fresh as a rose;
just from the country." Then the hostess called in Maslova and told her
that the man was an author, very rich, and will be very generous if he
takes a liking to her. He did take a liking to her, gave her twenty-five
rubles, and promised to call on her often. The money was soon spent in
settling for her board at her aunt's, for a new dress, hat and ribbons. A
few days afterward the author sent for her a second time. She called. He
gave her another twenty-five ruble bill and offered to rent apartments
for her where she could reside separately.
While living in the apartments rented by the author, Maslova became
infatuated with a jolly clerk living in the same house. She herself told
the author of her infatuation, and moved into a smaller apartment. The

clerk, who had promised to marry her, without saying anything, left for
Nijhni, evidently casting her off, and Maslova remained alone. She
wished to remain in the apartment, but the landlord would not permit a
single woman to occupy it, and she returned to her aunt. Her
fashionable dress, cape and hat won her the respect of her aunt, who no
longer dared to offer her work as a washerwoman, considering her
present position far above it. The question of working in the laundry
did not even occur to Maslova now. She looked with compassion on
the life of drudgery led by these pale, emaciated washerwomen, some
of whom showed symptoms of consumption, washing and ironing in a
stifling, steam-laden atmosphere with the windows open summer and
winter, and she was horrified at the thought that she, too, might be
driven to such drudgery.
Maslova had for a long time been addicted to cigarette smoking, but of
late she had been getting more and more accustomed to drink. The wine
attracted her, not because of its taste, but because it enabled her to
forget her past life, to comfort herself with ease, and the confidence of
her own worth that it gave her. Without wine she was despondent and
abashed. There was the choice of two things before her; either the
humiliating occupation of a servant, with the certain unwelcome
attentions of the men, or a secure, quiet and legitimatized position of
everybody's mistress. She wished to revenge herself on her seducer, as
well as the clerk, and all those that brought misfortune upon her.
Besides, she could not withstand the temptation of having all the
dresses her heart desired--dresses made of velvet, gauze and silk--ball
dresses, with open neck and short sleeves. And when Maslova
imagined herself in a bright yellow silk dress, with velvet trimmings,
decolette, she made her choice.
From this day on Maslova began to lead a life to which hundreds of
thousands of women are driven, and which, in nine cases out of ten,
ends in painful disease, premature decrepitude and death.
After a night's orgies there would come a deep slumber till three or four
o'clock in the afternoon; then the weary rising from a dirty couch;
seltzer-water to remove the effect of excessive drinking, coffee. Then

came the sauntering through the rooms in dressing-gown, looking
through the windows; the languid quarrels; then the perfuming of her
body and hair, the trying on of dresses, and the quarrels with