Book ICHAPTER I.MASLOVA IN PRISON.Though hundreds of thousands had done their very best todisfigure the small piece of land on which they were crowdedtogether, by paying the ground with stones, scraping away everyvestige of vegetation, cutting down the trees, turning away birdsand beasts, and filling the air with the smoke of naphtha andcoal, still spring was spring, even in the town.The sun shone warm, the air was balmy; everywhere, where it didnot get scraped away, the grass revived and sprang up between thepaving-stones as well as on the narrow strips of lawn on theboulevards. The birches, the poplars, and the wild che
