We
were laughing, roaring, growling. Some more people ran up to us.
Some one of us pulled Tanya by the sleeve of her waist. . . .
Suddenly her eyes began to flash; slowly she lifted her hands to her
head, and, adjusting her hair, said loudly, but calmly, looking
straight into our eyes:
"Miserable prisoners!"
And she came directly toward us, she walked, too, as though we were
not in front of her, as though we were not in her way. Therefore
none of us were in her way, and coming out of our circle, without
turning to us, she said aloud, and with indescribable contempt:
"Rascals! . . . Rabble!" . . .
Then she went away.
We remained standing in the centre of the yard, in the mud, under the
rain and the gray, sunless sky. . . .
Then we all went back silently to our damp, stony ditch. As before,
the sun never peeped in through our windows, and Tanya never came
there again! . . . .
Tchelkache
The sky is clouded by the dark smoke rising from the harbor. The
ardent sun gazes at the green sea through a thin veil. It is unable to
see its reflection in the water so agitated is the latter by the oars,
the steamer screws and the sharp keels of the Turkish feluccas, or sail
boats, that plough the narrow harbor in every direction.
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