I was very impatient. I longed for the sergeant to come out and do
the thing he had to do to me. I wished for all to be over and done
with--that I had already been carried to the hospital and been
bandaged; that the days in the hospital had gone; that I had
recovered and had been dismissed. But at the same time I hoped the
sergeant might be a little slow in coming out, and that my pain
might be postponed for a little while. In short, I was divided
against myself: I had two wishes, one excluding the other. Suddenly
the door opened, and on the threshold was standing--do you know who?
Marusya! Yes, dear God, it was Marusya. She was standing at the
right of the sergeant. With one hand he was playing with her locks,
and in the other he was holding both her hands. Then he turned to
me:
"Hourvitz, this young lady has interceded in your favor. And a
soldier is in honor bound to respect the request of such a nice
girl. So, for her sake, all is forgiven this time. Go home!"
At that moment I was ready to take forty lashes, if only I might
remove the sergeant's hands from off Marusya.
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