. . . 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.
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