WEDDING DRESS STYLE : 'Yes, sir.' Ivanov ran off. We were not admitted to the general's presence. In vain I begged, persuaded, swore even, at last... in vain, poor Sara tore her hair and rushed at the sentinels; they would not let us pass. Sara looked wildly round, clutched her head in both hands, and ran at breakneck pace towards the open wedding dress style to her father. I followed her. Every one stared at us, wondering. We ran up to the soldiers. They were standing in a ring, and picture it, gentlemen! they were laughing, laughing at poor Girshel. I flew into a rage and shouted at them. The Jew saw us and fell on his daughter's neck. Sara clung to him passionately. The poor wretch imagined he was pardoned.... He was just beginning to thank me... I turned away.
WEDDING DRESS STYLE : 'Your honour,' he shrieked and wrung his hands; 'I'm not pardoned?' I did not speak. 'No?' 'No.' 'Your honour,' he began muttering; 'look, your honour, look... she, this girl, see--you know--she's my daughter.' 'I know,' I answered, and turned away again. 'Your honour,' he shrieked, 'I never went away from the tent! I wouldn't for anything...' He stopped, and closed his eyes for an wedding dress style 'I wanted your money, your honour, I must own... but not for anything....' I was silent. Girshel was loathsome to me, and she too, his accomplice.... 'But now, if you save me,' the Jew articulated in a whisper, 'I'll command her... I... do you understand?... everything... I'll go to every length....' He was trembling like a leaf, and looking about him hurriedly. Sara silently and passionately embraced him. The adjutant came up to us.
WEDDING DRESS STYLE : 'Cornet,' he said to me; 'his Excellency has given me orders to place you under arrest. And you...' he motioned the soldiers to the Jew... 'quickly.' Siliavka went up to the Jew. 'Fiodor Karlitch,' I said to the adjutant (five soldiers had come with him); 'tell them, at least, to take away that poor girl....' 'Of course. Certainly.' The unhappy girl was scarcely conscious. Girshel was muttering something to her in Yiddish.... The soldiers with difficulty freed Sara from her father's arms, and carefully carried her twenty steps away. But all at once she broke from their arms and rushed towards Girshel.... Siliavka stopped her. Sara pushed him away; her face was covered with a faint flush, her eyes flashed, she stretched out wedding dress style arms. 'So may you be accursed,' she screamed in German; 'accursed, thrice
WEDDING DRESS STYLE : accursed, you and all the hateful breed of you, with the curse of Dathan and Abiram, the wedding dress style of poverty and sterility and violent, shameful death! May the earth open under your feet, godless, pitiless, bloodthirsty dogs....' Her head dropped back... she fell to the ground.... They lifted her up and carried her away. The soldiers took Girshel under his arms. I saw then why it was they had been laughing at the Jew when I ran up from the camp with Sara. He was really ludicrous, in spite of all the horror of his position. The intense anguish of parting with life, his daughter, his family, showed itself in the Jew in such strange and grotesque gesticulations, shrieks, and wriggles that we all could not help smiling, though it was horrible--intensely horrible to us too. The poor wretch was half dead
WEDDING DRESS STYLE : with terror.... 'Oy! oy! oy!' he shrieked: 'oy... wait! I've something to tell you... a lot to tell you. Mr. Under-sergeant, you know me. I'm an agent, an honest agent. Don't hold me; wait a minute, a little minute, a tiny minute--wait! Let me go; I'm a poor Hebrew. Sara... where is Sara? Oh, I know, she's at his honour the quarter-lieutenant's.' (God knows why he bestowed such wedding dress style unheard-of grade upon me.) 'Your honour the quarter-lieutenant, I'm not going away from the tent.' (The soldiers were taking hold of Girshel... he uttered a deafening shriek, and wriggled out of their hands.) 'Your Excellency, have pity on the unhappy father of a family. I'll give you ten golden pieces, fifteen I'll give, your Excellency!...' (They dragged him to the birch-tree.) 'Spare me! have mercy! your honour the quarter-lieutenant! your Excellency, the
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