, with red cheeks, and his big,
light eyes looked good--kind and clear. On his head was a white,
stiffly-starched cap, and from under his clean apron peeped out sharp
toes of stylish, brightly shining boots.

Our baker respectfully requested him to close the door; he did it
without haste, and began to question us about the proprietor. Vieing
with one another, we told him that our "boss" was a rogue, a rascal,
a villain, a tyrant, everything that could and ought to be said of
our proprietor, but which cannot be repeated here. The soldier
listened, stirred his moustache and examined us with a soft, light
look.

"And are there many girls here?" he asked, suddenly.

Some of us began to laugh respectfully, others made soft grimaces;
some one explained to the soldier that there were nine girls.

"Do you take advantage?" . . . asked the soldier, winking his eye.

Again we burst out laughing, not very loud, and with a confused
laughter. Many of us wished to appear before the soldier just as
clever as he was, but not one was able to do it. Some one confessed,
saying in a low voice:

"It is not for us." . . .

"Yes, it is hard for you!" said the soldier with confidence,
examining us fixedly. "You haven't the bearing for it . . . the
figure--you haven't the appearance, I mean! And a woman likes a good
appearance in a man. To her it must be perfect, everything perfect!
And then she respects strength. . . . A hand should be like this!"
The soldier pulled his right hand out of his pocket. The shirt
sleeve was rolled up to his elbow. He showed his hand to us. . . .
It was white, strong, covered with glossy, golden hair.

"A leg, a chest, in everything there must be firmness. And then,
again, the man must be dressed according to style. . . . As the
beauty of things requires it. I, for instance, I am loved by women.
I don't call them, I don't lure them, they come to me of themselves."
He seated himself on a bag of flour and told us how the women loved
him and how he handled them boldly. Then he went away, and when the
door closed behind him with a creak, we were silent for a long time,
thinking of him and of his stories. And then suddenly we all began
to speak, and it became clear at once that he pleased every one of
us. Such a kind and plain fellow. He came, sat awhile and talked.
Nobody came to us before, nobody ever spoke to us like this; so
friendly. . . . And we all spoke of him and of his future success