The Jew and Other Stories | Page 4

your honour,' the Jew whispered with an effort, 'you see.
She's a little frightened at the moment, she's frightened; but I've told her
his honour the officer's a good man, a splendid man.... Don't be
frightened, don't be frightened,' he went on--'don't be frightened....'
The muffled-up figure did not stir. I was myself in a state of dreadful
confusion, and didn't know what to say. Girshel too was fidgeting
restlessly, and gesticulating in a strange way....
'Any way,' I said to him, 'you get out....' Unwillingly, as it seemed,
Girshel obeyed.
I went up to the muffled-up figure, and gently took the dark hood off
her head. There was a conflagration in Dantzig: by the faint, reddish,
flickering glow of the distant fire I saw the pale face of a young Jewess.
Her beauty astounded me. I stood facing her, and gazed at her in silence.
She did not raise her eyes. A slight rustle made me look round. Girshel
was cautiously poking his head in under the edge of the tent. I waved
my hand at him angrily,... he vanished.
'What's your name?' I said at last.
'Sara,' she answered, and for one instant I caught in the darkness the
gleam of the whites of her large, long-shaped eyes and little, even,
flashing teeth.
I snatched up two leather cushions, flung them on the ground, and
asked her to sit down. She slipped off her shawl, and sat down. She was
wearing a short Cossack jacket, open in front, with round, chased silver
buttons, and full sleeves. Her thick black hair was coiled twice round
her little head. I sat down beside her and took her dark, slender hand.
She resisted a little, but seemed afraid to look at me, and there was a
catch in her breath. I admired her Oriental profile, and timidly pressed
her cold, shaking fingers.
'Do you know Russian?'
'Yes... a little.'
'And do you like Russians?'
'Yes, I like them.'
'Then, you like me too?'
'Yes, I like you.'
I tried to put my arm round her, but she moved away quickly....
'No, no, please, sir, please...'
'Oh, all right; look at me, any way.'

She let her black, piercing eyes rest upon me, and at once turned away
with a smile, and blushed.
I kissed her hand ardently. She peeped at me from under her eyelids
and softly laughed.
'What is it?'
She hid her face in her sleeve and laughed more than before.
Girshel showed himself at the entrance of the tent and shook his finger
at her. She ceased laughing.
'Go away!' I whispered to him through my teeth; 'you make me sick!'
Girshel did not go away.
I took a handful of gold pieces out of my trunk, stuffed them in his
hand and pushed him out.
'Your honour, me too....' she said.
I dropped several gold coins on her lap; she pounced on them like a cat.
'Well, now I must have a kiss.'
'No, please, please,' she faltered in a frightened and beseeching voice.
'What are you frightened of?'
'I'm afraid.'
'Oh, nonsense....'
'No, please.'
She looked timidly at me, put her head a little on one side and clasped
her hands. I let her alone.
'If you like... here,' she said after a brief silence, and she raised her hand
to my lips. With no great eagerness, I kissed it. Sara laughed again.
My blood was boiling. I was annoyed with myself and did not know
what to do. Really, I thought at last, what a fool I am.
I turned to her again.
'Sara, listen, I'm in love with you.'
'I know.'
'You know? And you're not angry? And do you like me too?'
Sara shook her head.
'No, answer me properly.'
'Well, show yourself,' she said.
I bent down to her. Sara laid her hands on my shoulders, began
scrutinising my face, frowned, smiled.... I could not contain myself,
and gave her a rapid kiss on her cheek. She jumped up and in one
bound was at the entrance of the tent.

'Come, what a shy thing you are!'
She did not speak and did not stir.
'Come here to me....'
'No, sir, good-bye. Another time.'
Girshel again thrust in his curly head, and said a couple of words to her;
she bent down and glided away, like a snake.
I ran out of the tent in pursuit of her, but could not get another glimpse
of her nor of Girshel.
The whole night long I could not sleep a wink.
The next night we were sitting in the tent of our captain; I was playing,
but with no great zest. My orderly came in.
'Some one's asking for you, your honour.'
'Who is it?'
'A Jew.'
'Can it be Girshel?' I wondered. I waited till