Then she suddenly turned around and disappeared behind the door.

The baker took up his shovel and said calmly, turning towards the
oven:

"It is done, it seems! . . . The soldier! . . . Rascal! . . .
Scoundrel!" . . .

Like a herd of sheep, pushing one another, we walked back to the
table, seated ourselves in silence and began to work slowly. Soon
some one said:

"And perhaps not yet." . . .

"Go on! Talk about it!" cried the baker.

We all knew that he was a clever man, cleverer than any of us, and we
understood by his words that he was firmly convinced of the soldier's
victory. . . . We were sad and uneasy. At twelve o'clock, during
the dinner hour, the soldier came. He was, as usual, clean and
smart, and, as usual, looked straight into our eyes. We felt awkward
to look at him.

"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 abus