Yama by Aleksandr Kuprin (best ereader for pdf TXT) 📕

“What inspectors?” asked Liubka.

“Why, now, those fly-cops that catch chippies without tickets⁠—them, now, as hasn’t got their yellow tickets. He’ll catch them, and drag ’em off to the police station. But how’s a poor girlie to know him, if he’s in civvies? And if he knows all them that has tickets by heart? And in the police station, of course, they’ll take your passport away and give you a prostitute’s ticket, and you’ll have to go every week to the police precinct for a medical inspection.⁠ ⁠… And even with a yellow ticket an inspector can, just the same, pick you up on the street and lead you off to the police station, to stay overnight in a general room with wooden sleeping benches. He’ll say you were drunk, or else he’ll say you was annoyin’ passersby. And after that the magistrate⁠—though you be as innocent as innocent can be⁠—will make you sit in jail for two weeks⁠—and there you are, without any earnings. True, you can get rid of the inspector. Shove him a rouble, or agree to go with him to a hotel; but then, the rouble is often lacking, and the dick nauseates you.⁠ ⁠…

“So, little girl, let’s best go ’round together. I know everything, and will always cover you. But, best of all, let’s go to my landlady⁠—there’s just three of us there, but there’s room for a fourth⁠—if she’s such a pretty little thing as you.”

And right here the experienced, tried recruiting agent, at first casually, but after that warmly, with all her heart, would begin to glorify all the conveniences of living at your own landlady’s⁠—the tasty food, full freedom of going out, the possibility of always concealing from the landlady of your rooms the surplus over the agreed pay. Here also much of the malicious and the offensive was said, by the way, against the women of the private houses, who were called “government hides,” “government stuff,” “genteel maidens” and “institutes.” Liubka knew the value of these sneers, because the dwellers in brothels also bear themselves with the greatest contempt toward street prostitutes, calling them “bimmies” and “venereals.”

To be sure, in the very end that happened which had to happen. Seeing in perspective a whole series of hungry days, and in the very depth of them the dark horror of an unknown future, Liubka consented to a very civil invitation of some respectable little old man; important, grayish, well-dressed and correct, but an abominable pervert. For her ignominy Liubka received a rouble, but did not dare to protest: her previous life in the brothel had entirely eaten away her personal initiative, mobility and energy. The next time this respectable ancient paid nothing at all. “I’m going to change a large bill.” He went out into the corridor⁠—and never came back.

One young man, easy of manner and handsome, in a cap with a flattened brim, put on at a brave slant over one ear, in a silk blouse, girdled by a cord with tassels, also led her with him into a hotel, asked for wine and a snack; for a long time he lied to Liubka about his being an earl’s son on the wrong side of the blanket, and that he was the first billiardist in the whole city; that all the wenches like him and that he would make a swell jane out of Liubka as well. Then, even as the depraved ancient had done, he went out of the room for just one minute, as though on business of his own, and vanished forever. The stern, cross-eyed porter beat her with contentment, long, in silence, with a businesslike air; breathing hard and covering up Liubka’s mouth with his hand. But in the end, having become convinced, probably, that the fault was not hers, but the guest’s, he took her purse, in which was a rouble with some small change, away from her; and took as security her rather cheap little hat and small outer jacket.

Another man of forty-five years, not at all badly dressed, having tortured the girl for some two hours, paid for the room and gave her 80 kopecks; but when she started to complain, he with a ferocious face put an enormous red-haired fist up to her very nose, the first thing, and said decisively:

“You just snivel a bit more to me⁠ ⁠… I’ll snivel you⁠ ⁠… I’ll yell for the police, now, and say that you robbed me when I was sleeping. Want me to? Is it long since you’ve been in a station house?”

And went away.

And of such cases there were many.

On that day, when her landlords⁠—a boatman and his wife⁠—had refused to let her have a room and just simply chucked her pitiful rags out into the yard; and when she had wandered the night through on the streets, without sleep, under the rain, hiding from policemen⁠—only then, with aversion and shame, did she resolve to turn to Likhonin’s aid. But Likhonin was no longer in town⁠—pusillanimously, he had gone away the very same day when the unjustly wronged and disgraced Liubka had run away from the flat. And it was in the morning that there came into her head the desperate thought of returning into the brothel and begging forgiveness there.

“Jennechka, you’re so clever, so brave, so kind; beg Emma Edwardovna for me⁠—the little housekeeper will listen to you,” she implored Jennka and kissed her bare shoulders and wetted them with tears.

“She won’t listen to anybody,” gloomily answered Jennka. “And you did have to tie up with a fool and a low-down fellow like that.”

“Jennechka, but you yourself advised me to,” timidly retorted Liubka.

“I advised you?⁠ ⁠… I didn’t advise you anything. What are you lying on me for, just as though I was dead⁠ ⁠… Well, all right then⁠—let’s go.”

Emma Edwardovna had already known for a long while about the return of Liubka; and had even seen her at that moment when she had passed through the yard of the house, looking all around her.