“Well, honorable gentlemen, if you wish, I can show you a soldier’s boldness,” . . . said he, smiling proudly.  “You go out into the hallway and look through the clefts. . . .  Understand?”

We went out and, falling on one another, we stuck to the cleft, in the wooden walls of the hallway, leading to the yard.  We did not have to wait long. . . . . . . .  Soon Tanya passed with a quick pace, skipping over the plashes of melted snow and mud.  Her face looked troubled.  She disappeared behind the cellar door.  Then the soldier went there slowly and whistling.  His hands were thrust into his pockets, and his moustache was stirring.

A rain was falling, and we saw the drops fall into plashes, and the plashes were wrinkling under their blows.  It was a damp, gray day—­a very dreary day.  The snow still lay on the roofs, while on the ground, here and there, were dark spots of mud.  And the snow on the roofs, too, was covered with a brownish, muddy coating.  The rain trickled slowly, producing a mournful sound.  We felt cold and disagreeable.

The soldier came first out of the cellar; he crossed the yard slowly, Stirring his moustache, his hands in his pockets—­the same as always.

Then Tanya came out.  Her eyes . . . her eyes were radiant with joy and happiness, and her lips were smiling.  And she walked as though in sleep, staggering, with uncertain steps.  We could not stand this calmly.  We all rushed toward the door, jumped out into the yard, and began to hiss and bawl at her angrily and wildly.  On noticing us she trembled and stopped short as if petrified in the mud under her feet.  We surrounded her and malignantly abused her in the most obscene language.  We told her shameless things.

We did this not loud but slowly, seeing that she could not get away, that she was surrounded by us and we could mock her as much as we pleased.  I don’t know why, but we did not beat her.  She stood among us, turning her head one way and another, listening to our abuses.  And we kept on throwing at her more of the mire and poison of our words.

The color left her face.  Her blue eyes, so happy a moment ago, opened wide, her breast breathed heavily and her lips were trembling.

And we, surrounding her, avenged ourselves upon her, for she had robbed us.  She had belonged to us, we had spent on her all that was best in us, though that best was the crusts of beggars, but we were twenty-six, while she was one, and therefore there was no suffering painful enough to punish her for her crime!  How we abused her!  She was silent, looked at us wild-eyed, and trembling in every limb.  We were laughing, roaring, growling.  Some more people ran up to us.  Some one of us pulled Tanya by the sleeve of her waist. . . .

Suddenly her eyes began to flash; slowly she lifted her hands to her head, and, adjusting her hair, said loudly, but calmly, looking straight into our eyes: