April 25, 1919

And, of course, I blushed. Always, always I blush when I give anyone money. How silly! Well, how much shall I give to this … comrade?

I blush still more, and extend toward him a twenty rouble kerenka.

“Is … is … this enough?”

Heavens! All the faces on the platform begin to smile. They glance at the kerenka in my outstretched hand, and smile. Of course, of course, I am giving too much!

And the comrade suddenly says:

“It’s rather little, miss.”

The impudent wretch! And his face is not at all good-natured, but sly. The disgusting public laughs still more. A gentleman, wearing eyeglasses, glanced at me, frowned, and turned away. And the comrade still stands with outstretched hand.

I search my purse for another kerenka, and my fingers tremble. Everybody is laughing at me, and I stand there, red-faced and embarrassed. I give him another one:

“Change. … Have you got change?”

“No, miss.”

The mean thing! And he dares to laugh. He leers, and laughs.

“Never mind … never mind … take it and go. … Keep the change.”

We ride along the Nevsky. How sad and deserted it has become. Dear, dear old Nevsky. They say people die of hunger while walking the streets. God, how will I keep alive? Is papa suffering very badly from hunger?

We are already at the Nikolaevski Bridge. Here is the Fifth Line. Soon, soon. …

I pull the door-bell with all my might.

“Who’s there?”

Oh, what an angry, irritated voice! This is Antonina. She must be hungry. And I have brought almost nothing. …