es
with the embroidery girls, who either passed us by, closing their
lips insultingly, when they met us in the yard, or went straight on
as if we had not been in their way at all. And we always admired
them, meeting them in the yard, or when they went past our
windows--in winter dressed in some particular hats and in fur coats,
in summer in hats with flowers, with colored parasols in their hands.
But thereafter among ourselves, we spoke of these girls so that had
they heard it, they would have gone mad for shame and insult.

"However, see that he doesn't spoil Tanushka, too!" said the baker,
suddenly, with anxiety.

We all became silent, dumb-founded by these words. We had somehow
forgotten Tanya; it looked as though the soldier's massive, handsome
figure prevented us from seeing her. Then began a noisy dispute.
Some said that Tanya would not submit herself to this, others argued
that she would not hold out against the soldier; still others said
that they would break the soldier's bones in case he should annoy
Tanya, and finally all decided to look after the soldier and Tanya,
and to warn the girl to be on guard against him. . . . This put an
end to the dispute.

About a month went by. The soldier baked white bread, walked around
with the embroidery girls, came quite often to our workshop, but
never told us of his success with the girls; he only twisted his
moustache and licked his lips with relish.

Tanya came every morning for the biscuits and, as always, was
cheerful, amiable, kind to us. We attempted to start a conversation
with her about the soldier, but she called him a "goggle-eyed calf,"
and other funny names, and this calmed us. We were proud of our
little girl, seeing that the embroidery girls were making love to the
soldier. Tanya's relation toward him somehow uplifted all of us, and
we, as if guided by her relation, began to regard the soldier with
contempt. And we began to love Tanya still more, and, meet her in
the morning more cheerfully and kind-heartedly.

But one day the soldier came to us a little intoxicated, seated
himself and began to laugh, and when we asked him what he was
laughing at he explained: "Two had a fight on account of me. . . .
Lidka and Grushka. . . . How they disfigured each other! Ha, ha!
One grabbed the other by the hair, and knocked her to the ground in
the hallway, and sat on her. . . . Ha, ha, ha! They scratched each
other's faces. . . . It is laughable! An