"Well?” Captain Zarubkin’s wife called out impatiently to her husband, rising from the sofa and turning to face him as he entered.

“He doesn’t know anything about it,” he replied indifferently, as if the matter were of no interest to him. Then he asked in a businesslike tone: “Nothing for me from the office?”

“Why should I know? Am I your errand boy?”

“How they dilly-dally! If only the package doesn’t come too late. It’s so important!”

“Idiot!”

“Who’s an idiot?”

“You, with your indifference, your stupid egoism.”

The captain said nothing. He was neither surprised nor insulted. On the contrary, the smile on his face was as though he had received a compliment. These wifely animadversions, probably oft-heard, by no means interfered with his domestic peace.

“It can’t be that the man doesn’t know when his wife is coming back home,” Mrs. Zarubkin continued excitedly. “She’s written to him every day of the four months that she’s been away. The postmaster told me so.”

“Semyonov! Ho, Semyonov! Has any one from the office been here?”

“I don’t know, your Excellency,” came in a loud, clear voice from back of the room.

“Why don’t you know? Where have you been?”

“I went to Abramka, your Excellency.”

“The tailor again?”

“Yes, your Excellency, the tailor Abramka.”

The captain spat in annoyance.

“And where is Krynka?”

“He went to market, your Excellency.”

“Was he told to go to market?”

“Yes, your Excellency.”

The captain spat again.

“Why do you keep spitting? Such vulgar manners!” his wife cried angrily. “You behave at home like a drunken subaltern. You haven’t the least consideration for your wife. You are so coarse in your behaviour towards me! Do, please, go to your office.”

“Semyonov.”

“Your Excellency?”

“If the package comes, please have it sent back to the office and say I’ve gone there. And listen! Some one must always be here. I won’t have everybody out of the house at the same time. Do you hear?”

“Yes, your Excellency.”

The captain put on his cap to go. In the doorway he turned and addressed his wife.

“Please, Tasya, please don’t send all the servants on your errands at the same time. Something important may turn up, and then there’s nobody here to attend to it.”

He went out, and his wife remained reclining in the sofa corner as if his plea were no concern of hers. But scarcely had he left the house, when she called out:

“Semyonov, come here. Quick!”

A bare-footed unshaven man in dark blue pantaloons and cotton shirt presented himself. His stocky figure and red face made a wholesome appearance. He was the Captain’s orderly.

“At your service, your Excellency.”

“Listen, Semyonov, you don’t seem to be stupid.”

“I don’t know, your Excellency.”

“For goodness’ sake, drop ‘your Excellency.’ I am not your superior officer.”

“Yes, your Excel—”

“Idiot!”

But the lady’s manner toward the servant was far friendlier than toward her husband. Semyonov had it in his power to perform important services for her, while the captain had not come up to her expectations.

“Listen, Semyonov, how do you and the doctor’s men get along together? Are you friendly?”

“Yes, your Excellency.”

“Intolerable!” cried the lady, jumping up. “Stop using that silly title. Can’t you speak like a sensible man?”

Semyonov had been standing in the stiff attitude of attention, with the palms of his hands at the seams of his trousers. Now he suddenly relaxed, and even wiped his nose with his fist.

“That’s the way we are taught to do,” he said carelessly, with a clownish grin. “The gentlemen, the officers, insist on it.”

“Now, tell me, you are on good terms with the doctor’s men?”

“You mean Podmar and Shuchok? Of course, we’re friends.”

“Very well, then go straight to them and try to find out when Mrs. Shaldin is expected back. They ought to know. They must be getting things ready against her return—cleaning her bedroom and fixing it up. Do you understand? But be careful to find out right. And also be very careful not to let on for whom you are finding it out. Do you understand?’

“Of course, I understand.”

“Well, then, go. But one more thing. Since you’re going out, you may as well stop at Abramka’s again and tell him to come here right away. You understand?”

“But his Excellency gave me orders to stay at home,” said Semyonov, scratching himself behind his ears.

“Please don’t answer back. Just do as I tell you. Go on, now.”

“At your service.” And the orderly, impressed by the lady’s severe military tone, left the room.

Mrs. Zarubkin remained reclining on the sofa for a while. Then she rose and walked up and down the room and finally went to her bedroom, where her two little daughters were playing in their nurse’s care. She scolded them a bit and returned to her former place on the couch. Her every movement betrayed great excitement.





Tatyana Grigoryevna Zarubkin was one of the most looked-up to ladies of the S—— Regiment and even of the whole town of Chmyrsk, where the regiment was quartered. To be sure, you hardly could say that, outside the regiment, the town could boast any ladies at all. There were very respectable women, decent wives, mothers, daughters and widows of honourable citizens; but they all dressed in cotton and flannel, and on high holidays made a show of cheap Cashmere gowns over which they wore gay shawls with borders of wonderful arabesques. Their hats and other headgear gave not the faintest evidence of good taste. So they could scarcely be dubbed “ladies.” They were satisfied to be called “women.” Each one of them, almost, had the name of her husband’s trade or position tacked to her name—Mrs. Grocer so-and-so, Mrs. Mayor so-and-so, Mrs. Milliner so-and-so, etc. Genuine ladies in the Russian society sense had never come to the town before the S—— Regiment had taken up its quarters there; and it goes without saying that the ladies of the regiment had nothing in common, and therefore no intercourse with, the women of the town. They were so dissimilar that they were like creatures of a different species.

There is no disputing that Tatyana Grigoryevna Zarubkin was one of the most looked-up-to of the ladies. She invariably played the most important part at all the regimental affairs—the amateur theatricals, the social evenings, the afternoon teas. If the captain’s wife was not to be present, it was a foregone conclusion that the affair would not be a success.

The most important point was that Mrs. Zarubkin had the untarnished reputation of being the best-dressed of all the ladies. She was always the most distinguished looking at the annual ball. Her gown for the occasion, ordered from Moscow, was always chosen with the greatest regard for her charms and defects, and it was always exquisitely beautiful. A new fashion could not gain admittance to the other ladies of the regiment except by way of the captain’s wife. Thanks to her good taste in dressing, the stately blonde was queen at all the balls and in all the salons of Chmyrsk. Another advantage of hers was that although she was nearly forty she still looked fresh and youthful, so that the young officers were constantly hovering about her and paying her homage.

November was a very lively month in the regiment’s calendar. It was on the tenth of November that the annual ball took place. The ladies, of course, spent their best efforts in preparation for this event. Needless to say that in these arduous activities, Abramka Stiftik, the ladies’ tailor, played a prominent role. He was the one man in Chmyrsk who had any understanding at all for the subtle art of the feminine toilet. Preparations had begun in his shop in August already. Within the last weeks his modest parlour—furnished with six shabby chairs placed about a round table, and a fly-specked mirror on the wall—the atmosphere heavy with a smell of onions and herring, had been filled from early morning to the evening hours with the most charming and elegant of the fairer sex. There was trying-on and discussion of styles and selection of material. It was all very nerve-racking for the ladies.

The only one who had never appeared in this parlour was the captain’s wife. That had been a thorn in Abramka’s flesh. He had spent days and nights going over in his mind how he could rid this lady of the, in his opinion, wretched habit of ordering her clothes from Moscow. For this ball, however, as she herself had told him, she had not ordered a dress but only material from out of town, from which he deduced that he was to make the gown for her. But there was only one week left before the ball, and still she had not come to him. Abramka was in a state of feverishness. He longed once to make a dress for Mrs. Zarubkin. It would add to his glory. He wanted to prove that he understood his trade just as well as any tailor in Moscow, and that it was quite superfluous for her to order her gowns outside of Chmyrsk. He would come out the triumphant competitor of Moscow.

As each day passed and Mrs. Zarubkin did not appear in his shop, his nervousness increased. Finally she ordered a dressing-jacket from him—but not a word said of a ball gown. What was he to think of it?

So, when Semyonov told him that Mrs. Zarubkin was expecting him at her home, it goes without saying that he instantly removed the dozen pins in his mouth, as he was trying on a customer’s dress, told one of his assistants to continue with the fitting, and instantly set off to call on the captain’s wife. In this case, it was not a question of a mere ball gown, but of the acquisition of the best customer in town.

Although Abramka wore a silk hat and a suit in keeping with the silk hat, still he was careful not to ring at the front entrance, but always knocked at the back door. At another time when the captain’s orderly was not in the house—for the captain’s orderly also performed the duties of the captain’s cook—he might have knocked long and loud. On other occasions a cannon might have been shot off right next to Tatyana Grigoryevna’s ears and she would not have lifted her fingers to open the door. But now she instantly caught the sound of the modest knocking and opened the back door herself for Abramka.

“Oh!” she cried delightedly. “You, Abramka!”

She really wanted to address him less familiarly, as was more befitting so dignified a man in a silk hat; but everybody called him “Abramka,” and he would have been very much surprised had he been honoured with his full name, Abram Srulevich Stiftik. So she thought it best to address him as the others did.

Mr. “Abramka” was tall and thin. There was always a melancholy expression in his pale face. He had a little stoop, a long and very heavy greyish beard. He had been practising his profession for thirty years. Ever since his apprenticeship he had been called “Abramka,” which did not strike him as at all derogatory or unfitting. Even his shingle read: “Ladies’ Tailor: Abramka Stiftik”—the most valid proof that he deemed his name immaterial, but that the chief thing to him was his art. As a matter of fact, he had attained, if not perfection in tailoring, yet remarkable skill. To this all the ladies of the S—— Regiment could attest with conviction.

Abramka removed his silk hat, stepped into the kitchen, and said gravely, with profound feeling:

“Mrs. Zarubkin, I am entirely at your service.”

“Come into the reception room. I have something very important to speak to you about.”

Abramka followed in silence. He stepped softly on tiptoe, as if afraid of waking some one.

“Sit down, Abramka, listen—but give me your word of honour, you won’t tell any one?” Tatyana Grigoryevna began, reddening a bit. She was ashamed to have to let the tailor Abramka into her secret, but since there was no getting around it, she quieted herself and in an instant had regained her ease.

“I don’t know what you are speaking of, Mrs. Zarubkin,” Abramka rejoined. He assumed a somewhat injured manner. “Have you ever heard of Abramka ever babbling anything out? You certainly know that in my profession—you know everybody has some secret to be kept.”

“Oh, you must have misunderstood me, Abramka. What sort of secrets do you mean?”

“Well, one lady is a little bit one-sided, another lady”—he pointed to his breast—“is not quite full enough, another lady has scrawny arms—such things as that have to be covered up or filled out or laced in, so as to look better. That is where our art comes in. But we are in duty bound not to say anything about it.”

Tatyana Grigoryevna smiled.

“Well, I can assure you I am all right that way. There is nothing about me that needs to be covered up or filled out.”

“Oh, as if I didn’t know that! Everybody knows that Mrs. Zarubkin’s figure is perfect,” Abramka cried, trying to flatter his new customer.

Mrs. Zarubkin laughed and made up her mind to remember “Everybody knows that Mrs. Zarubkin’s figure is perfect.” Then she said:

“You know that the ball is to take place in a week.”

“Yes, indeed, Mrs. Zarubkin, in only one week; unfortunately, only one week,” replied Abramka, sighing.

“But you remember your promise to make my dress for me for the ball this time?”

“Mrs. Zarubkin,” Abramka cried, laying his hand on his heart. “Have I said that I was not willing to make it? No, indeed, I said it must be made and made right—for Mrs. Zarubkin, it must be better than for any one else. That’s the way I feel about it.”

“Splendid! Just what I wanted to know.”

“But why don’t you show me your material? Why don’t you say to me, 'Here, Abramka, here is the stuff, make a dress?’ Abramka would work on it day and night.”

“Ahem, that’s just it—I can’t order it. That is where the trouble comes in. Tell me, Abramka, what is the shortest time you need for making the dress? Listen, the very shortest?”

Abramka shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, is a week too much for a ball dress such as you will want? It’s got to be sewed, it can’t be pasted together, You, yourself, know that, Mrs. Zarubkin.”

“But supposing I order it only three days before the ball?”

Abramka started.

“Only three days before the ball? A ball dress? Am I a god, Mrs. Zarubkin? I am nothing but the ladies’ tailor, Abramka Stiftik.”

“Well, then you are a nice tailor!” said Tatyana Grigoryevna, scornfully. “In Moscow they made a ball dress for me in two days.”

Abramka jumped up as if at a shot, and beat his breast.

“Is that so? Then I say, Mrs. Zarubkin,” he cried pathetically, “if they made a ball gown for you in Moscow in two days, very well, then I will make a ball gown for you, if I must, in one day. I will neither eat nor sleep, and I won’t let my help off either for one minute. How does that suit you?”

“Sit down, Abramka, thank you very much. I hope I shall not have to put such a strain on you. It really does not depend upon me, otherwise I should have ordered the dress from you long ago.”

“It doesn’t depend upon you? Then upon whom does it depend?”

“Ahem, it depends upon—but now, Abramka, remember this is just between you and me—it depends upon Mrs. Shaldin.”

“Upon Mrs. Shaldin, the doctor’s wife? Why she isn’t even here.”

“That’s just it. That is why I have to wait. How is it that a clever man like you, Abramka, doesn’t grasp the situation?”

“Hm, hm! Let me see.” Abramka racked his brains for a solution of the riddle. How could it be that Mrs. Shaldin, who was away, should have anything to do with Mrs. Zarubkin’s order for a gown? No, that passed his comprehension.

“She certainly will get back in time for the ball,” said Mrs. Zarubkin, to give him a cue.

“Well, yes.”

“And certainly will bring a dress back with her.”

“Certainly!”

“A dress from abroad, something we have never seen here—something highly original.”

“Mrs. Zarubkin!” Abramka cried, as if a truth of tremendous import had been revealed to him. “Mrs. Zarubkin, I understand. Why certainly! Yes, but that will be pretty hard.”

“That’s just it.”

Abramka reflected a moment, then said:

“I assure you, Mrs. Zarubkin, you need not be a bit uneasy. I will make a dress for you that will be just as grand as the one from abroad. I assure you, your dress will be the most elegant one at the ball, just as it always has been. I tell you, my name won’t be Abramka Stiftik if—”

His eager asseverations seemed not quite to satisfy the captain’s wife. Her mind was not quite set at ease. She interrupted him.

“But the style, Abramka, the style! You can’t possibly guess what the latest fashion is abroad.”

“Why shouldn’t I know what the latest fashion is, Mrs. Zarubkin? In Kiev I have a friend who publishes fashion-plates. I will telegraph to him, and he will immediately send me pictures of the latest French models. The telegram will cost only eighty cents, Mrs. Zarubkin, and I swear to you I will copy any dress he sends. Mrs. Shaldin can’t possibly have a dress like that.”

“All very well and good, and that’s what we’ll do. Still we must wait until Mrs. Shaldin comes back. Don’t you see, Abramka, I must have exactly the same style that she has? Can’t you see, so that nobody can say that she is in the latest fashion?”

At this point Semyonov entered the room cautiously. He was wearing the oddest-looking jacket and the captain’s old boots. His hair was rumpled, and his eyes were shining suspiciously. There was every sign that he had used the renewal of friendship with the doctor’s men as a pretext for a booze.

“I had to stand them some brandy, your Excellency,” he said saucily, but catching his mistress’s threatening look, he lowered his head guiltily.

“Idiot,” she yelled at him, “face about. Be off with you to the kitchen.”

In his befuddlement, Semyonov had not noticed Abramka’s presence. Now he became aware of him, faced about and retired to the kitchen sheepishly.

“What an impolite fellow,” said Abramka reproachfully.

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe—” said the captain’s wife, but instantly followed Semyonov into the kitchen.

Semyonov aware of his awful misdemeanour, tried to stand up straight and give a report.

“She will come back, your Excellency, day after to-morrow toward evening. She sent a telegram.”

“Is that true now?”

“I swear it’s true. Shuchok saw it himself.”

“All right, very good. You will get something for this.”

“Yes, your Excellency.”

“Silence, you goose. Go on, set the table.”

Abramka remained about ten minutes longer with the captain’s wife, and on leaving said:

“Let me assure you once again, Mrs. Zarubkin, you needn’t worry; just selec&............