The Jew and Other Stories. Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev
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got up and went out. Yes, it was so; I saw Girshel.
'Well,' he questioned me with an ingratiating smile, 'your honour, are you satisfied?'
'Ah, you———!' (Here the colonel glanced round. 'No ladies present, I believe. … Well, never mind, any way.') 'Ah, bless you!' I responded, 'so you're making fun of me, are you?'
'How so?'
'How so, indeed! What a question!'
'Ay, ay, your honour, you 're too bad,' Girshel said reproachfully, but never ceasing smiling. 'The girl is young and modest. … You frightened her, indeed, you did.'
'Queer sort of modesty! why did she take money, then?'
'Why, what then? If one's given money, why not take it, sir?'
'I say, Girshel, let her come again, and I '11 let you off … only, please, don't show your stupid phiz inside my tent, and leave us in peace; do you hear?'
Girshel's eyes sparkled.
'What do you say? You like her?'
'Well, yes.'
'She's a lovely creature! there's not another such anywhere. And have you something for me now?'
'Yes, here, only listen; fair play is better than gold. Bring her and then go to the devil. I'll escort her home myself.'
'Oh, no, sir, no, that's impossible, sir,' the Jew rejoined hurriedly. 'Ay, ay, that's impossible. I'll walk about near the tent, your honour, if you like; I'll … I'll go away, your honour, if you like, a little. … I'm ready to do your honour a service. … I'll move away … to be sure, I will.'
'Well, mind you do. … And bring her, do you hear?'
'Eh, but she's a beauty, your honour, eh? your honour, a beauty, eh?'
Girshel bent down and peeped into my eyes.
'She's good-looking.'
'Well, then, give me another gold piece.'
I threw him a coin; we parted.
The day passed at last. The night came on. I had been sitting for a long while alone in my tent. It was dark outside. It struck two in the town. I was beginning to curse the Jew. … Suddenly Sara came in, alone. I jumped up took her in my arms … put my lips to her face. … It was cold as ice. I could scarcely distinguish her features. … I made her sit down, knelt down before her, took her hands, touched her waist. … She did not speak, did not stir, and suddenly she broke into loud, convulsive sobbing. I tried in vain to soothe her, to persuade her. … She wept in torrents. … I caressed her, wiped her tears; as before, she did not resist, made no answer to my questions and wept—wept, like a waterfall. I felt a pang at my heart; I got up and went out of the tent.
Girshel seemed to pop up out of the earth before me.
'Girshel,' I said to him, 'here's the money I promised you. Take Sara away.'
The Jew at once rushed up to her. She left off weeping, and clutched hold of him.
'Good-bye, Sara,'I said to her. 'God bless you, good-bye. We'll see each other again some other time.'
Girshel was silent and bowed humbly. Sara bent down, took my hand and pressed it to her lips; I turned away. …
For five or six days, my friends, I kept thinking of my Jewess. Girshel did not make his appearance, and no one had seen him in the camp. I slept rather badly at nights; I was continually haunted by wet, black eyes, and long eyelashes; my lips could not forget the touch of her cheek, smooth and fresh as a downy plum. I was sent out with a foraging party to a village some distance away. While my soldiers were ransacking the houses, I remained in the street, and did not dismount from my horse. Suddenly some one caught hold of my foot. …
'Mercy on us, Sara!'
She was pale and excited.
'Your honour … help us, save us, your soldiers are insulting us. … Your honour. … '
She recognised me and flushed red.
'Why, do you live here?'
'Yes.'
'Where?'
Sara pointed to a little, old house. I set spurs to my horse and galloped up. In the yard of the little house an ugly and tattered Jewess was trying to tear out of the hands of my long sergeant, Siliavka, three hens and a duck. He was holding his booty above his head, laughing; the hens clucked and the duck quacked. … Two other cuirassiers were loading their horses with hay, straw, and sacks of flour. Inside the house I heard shouts and oaths in Little-Russian. … I called to my men and told them to leave the Jews alone, not to take anything from them. The soldiers obeyed, the sergeant got on his grey mare, Proserpina, or, as he called her, 'Prozherpila,' and rode after me into the street.
'Well,' I said to Sara, 'are you pleased with me?'
She looked at me with a smile.
'What has become of you all this time?'
She dropped her eyes.
'I will come to you to-morrow.'
'In the evening?'
'No, sir, in the morning.'
'Mind you do, don't deceive me.'
'No … no, I won't.'
I looked greedily at her. By daylight she seemed to me handsomer than ever. I remember I was particularly struck by the even, amber tint of her face and the bluish lights in her black hair. … I bent down from my horse and warmly pressed her little hand.
'Good-bye, Sara … mind you come.'
'Yes.'
She went home; I told the sergeant to follow me with the party, and galloped off.
The next day I got up very early, dressed, and went out of the tent. It was a glorious morning; the sun had just risen and every blade of grass was sparkling in the dew and the crimson glow. I clambered on to a high breastwork, and sat down on the edge of an embrasure. Below me a stout, cast-iron cannon stuck out its black muzzle towards the open country. I looked carelessly about me … and all at once caught sight of a bent figure in a grey wrapper, a hundred paces from me. I recognised Girshel. He stood without moving for a long while in one place, then suddenly ran a little on one side, looked hurriedly and furtively round … uttered a cry, squatted down, cautiously craned his neck and began looking round again and listening. I could see all his actions very clearly. He put his hand into his bosom, took out a scrap of paper and a pencil, and began writing or drawing something. Girshel continually stopped, started like a hare, attentively scrutinised everything around him, and seemed to be sketching our camp. More than once he hid his scrap of paper, half closed his eyes, sniffed at the air, and again set to work. At last, the Jew squatted down on the grass, took off his slipper, and stuffed the paper in it; but he had not time to regain his legs, when suddenly, ten steps from him, there appeared from behind the slope of an earthwork the whiskered countenance of the sergeant Siliavka, and gradually the whole of his long clumsy figure rose up from the ground. The Jew stood with his back to him. Siliavka went quickly up to him and laid his heavy paw on his shoulder. Girshel seemed to shrink into himself. He shook like a leaf and uttered a feeble cry, like a hare's. Siliavka addressed him threateningly, and seized him by the collar. I could not hear their conversation, but from the despairing gestures of the Jew, and his supplicating appearance, I began to guess what it was. The Jew twice flung himself at the sergeant's feet, put his hand in his pocket, pulled out a torn check handkerchief, untied a knot, and took out gold coins. … Siliavka took his offering with great dignity, but did not leave off dragging the Jew by the collar. Girshel made a sudden bound and rushed away; the sergeant sped after him in pursuit. The Jew ran exceedingly well; his legs, clad in blue stockings, flashed by, really very rapidly; but Siliavka after a short run caught the crouching Jew, made him stand up, and carried him in his arms straight to the camp. I got up and went to meet him.
'Ah!