Book 1 Chapter 38 Sunday in Prison - Preparing for Mass

On Sunday morning at five o'clock, when a whistle sounded in the
corridor of the women's ward of the prison, Korableva, who was
already awake, called Maslova.

"Oh, dear! life again," thought Maslova, with horror,
involuntarily breathing in the air that had become terribly
noisome towards the morning. She wished to fall asleep again, to
enter into the region of oblivion, but the habit of fear overcame
sleepiness, and she sat up and looked round, drawing her feet
under her. The women had all got up; only the elder children were
still asleep. The spirit-trader was carefully drawing a cloak
from under the children, so as not to wake them. The watchman's
wife was hanging up the rags to dry that served the baby as
swaddling clothes, while the baby was screaming desperately in
Theodosia's arms, who was trying to quiet it. The consumptive
woman was coughing with her hands pressed to her chest, while the
blood rushed to her face, and she sighed loudly, almost
screaming, in the intervals of coughing. The fat, red-haired
woman was lying on her back, with knees drawn up, and loudly
relating a dream. The old woman accused of incendiarism was
standing in front of the image, crossing herself and bowing, and
repeating the same words over and over again. The deacon's
daughter sat on the bedstead, looking before her, with a dull,
sleepy face. Khoroshavka was twisting her black, oily, coarse
hair round her fingers. The sound of slipshod feet was heard in
the passage, and the door opened to let in two convicts, dressed
in jackets and grey trousers that did not reach to their ankles.
With serious, cross faces they lifted the stinking tub and
carried it out of the cell. The women went out to the taps in the
corridor to wash. There the red-haired woman again began a
quarrel with a woman from another cell.