Chapter VI. Reflections of a Landlord.
Again striking his head against both doors, Nekhludoff went out into the street, where the pink and the white boys were waiting for him. A few newcomers were standing with them. Among the women, of whom several had babies in their arms, was the thin woman with the baby who had the patchwork cap on its head. She held lightly in her arms the bloodless infant, who kept strangely smiling all over its wizened little face, and continually moving its crooked thumbs. Nekhludoff knew the smile to be one of suffering. He asked who the woman was. "It is that very Anisia I told you about," said the elder boy. Nekhludoff turned to Anisia. "How do you live?" he asked. "By what means do you gain your livelihood?" "How do I live? I go begging," said Anisia, and began to cry. Nekhludoff took out his
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