Twenty-six and One | Page 6

"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 successes 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. .