There are people to whom the best and dearest thing in life is some kind of a disease of either the body or the soul. They make much of it during all their lives and live by it only; suffering from it, they are nourished by it, they always complain of it to others and thus attract the attention of their neighbors. By this they gain people's compassion for themselves, and aside from this they have nothing. Take away this disease from them, cure them, and they are rendered most unfortunate, because they thus lose their sole means of living, they then become empty. Sometimes a man's life is so poor that he is involuntarily compelled to prize his defect and live by it. It may frankly be said that people are often depraved out of mere weariness. The soldier felt insulted, and besetting our baker, roared: "Tell me--who is it?" "Shall I tell you?" the baker suddenly turned to him. "Well?" "Do you know Tanya?" "Well?" "Well, try." . . . "I?" "You!" "Her? That's easy enough!" "We'll see!" "You'll see! Ha, ha!" "She'll. . . ." "A month's time!" "What a boaster you are, soldier!" "Two weeks! I'll show you! Who is it? Tanya! Tfoo!" . . . "Get away, I say." "Get away, . . . you're bragging!" "Two weeks, that's all!" Suddenly our baker became enraged, and he raised the shovel against the soldier. The soldier stepped back, surprised, kept silent for awhile, and, saying ominously, in a low voice: "Very well, then!" he left us. During the dispute we were all silent, interested in the result. But when the soldier went out, a loud, animated talk and noise was started among us. Some one cried to the baker: "You contrived a bad thing, Pavel!" "Work!" replied the baker, enraged. We felt that the soldier was touched to the quick and that a danger was threatening Tanya. We felt this, and at the same time we were seized with a burning, pleasant curiosity--what will happen? Will she resist the soldier? And almost all of us cried out with confidence: "Tanya? She will resist! You cannot take her with bare hands!"