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 abused her in the most obscene
language. We told her shameless things.

We did this not loud but slowly, seeing that she could not get away,
that she was surrounded by us and we could mock her as much as we
pleased. I don't know why, but we did not beat her. She stood among
us, turning her head one way and another, listening to our abuses.
And we kept on throwing at her more of the mire and poison of our
words.

The color left her face. Her blue eyes, so happy a moment ago,
opened wide, her breast breathed heavily and her lips were trembling.

And we, surrounding her, avenged ourselves upon her, for she had
robbed us. She had belonged to us, we had spent on her all that was
best in us, though that best was the crusts of beggars, but we were
twenty-six, while she was one, and therefore there was no suffering