the general murmured in an undertone, wagging his head gravely. ‘Come, how do you explain this, my friend?’ ‘I’m not guilty, your Excellency, I’m not guilty.’

‘That is not probable, however. You were—how is it said in Russian?—taken on the fact, that is, in the very facts!’

‘Hear me, your Excellency; I am not guilty.’

‘You drew the plan? you are a spy of the enemy?’

‘It wasn’t me!’ Girshel shrieked suddenly; ‘not I, your Excellency!’

The general looked at Siliavka.

‘Why, he’s raving, your Excellency. His honour the officer here took the plan out of his slipper.’

The general looked at me. I was obliged to nod assent.

‘You are a spy from the enemy, my good man….’

‘Not I… not I…’ whispered the distracted Jew.

‘You have the enemy with similar information before provided? Confess….’

‘How could I?’

‘You will not deceive me, my good man. Are you a spy?’

The Jew closed his eyes, shook his head, and lifted the skirts of his gown.

‘Hang him,’ the general pronounced expressively after a brief silence,’according to the law. Where is Mr. Fiodor Schliekelmann?’

They ran to fetch Schliekelmann, the general’s adjutant. Girshel began to turn greenish, his mouth fell open, his eyes seemed starting out of his head. The adjutant came in. The general gave him the requisite instructions. The secretary showed his sickly, pock-marked face for an instant. Two or three officers peeped into the room inquisitively.

‘Have pity, your Excellency,’ I said to the general in German as best I could; ‘let him off….’

‘You, young man,’ he answered me in Russian, ‘I was saying to you, are inexperienced, and therefore I beg you silent to be, and me no more to trouble.’

Girshel with a shriek dropped at the general’s feet.

‘Your Excellency, have mercy; I will never again, I will not, your Excellency; I have a wife… your Excellency, a daughter… have mercy….’

‘It’s no use!’

‘Truly, your Excellency, I am guilty… it’s the first time, your Excellency, the first time, believe me!’

‘You furnished no other documents?’

‘The first time, your Excellency,… my wife… my children… have mercy….’

‘But you are a spy.’

‘My wife… your Excellency… my children….’

The general felt a twinge, but there was no getting out of it.

‘According to the law, hang the Hebrew,’ he said constrainedly, with the air of a man forced to do violence to his heart, and sacrifice his better feelings to inexorable duty—’hang him! Fiodor Karlitch, I beg you to draw up a report of the occurrence….’

A horrible change suddenly came over Girshel. Instead of the ordinary timorous alarm peculiar to the Jewish nature, in his face was reflected the horrible agony that comes before death. He writhed like a wild beast trapped, his mouth stood open, there was a hoarse rattle in his throat, he positively leapt up and down, convulsively moving his elbows. He had on only one slipper; they had forgotten to put the other on again… his gown fell open… his cap had fallen off….

We all shuddered; the general stopped speaking.

‘Your Excellency,’ I began again, ‘pardon this wretched creature.’

‘Impossible! It is the law,’ the general replied abruptly, and not without emotion, ‘for a warning to others.’

‘For pity’s sake….’

‘Mr. Cornet, be so good as to return to your post,’ said the general, and he motioned me imperiously to the door.

I bowed and went out. But seeing that in reality I had no post anywhere, I remained at no great distance from the general’s house.

Two minutes later Girshel made his appearance, conducted by Siliavka and three soldiers. The poor Jew was in a state of stupefaction, and could hardly move his legs. Siliavka went by me to the camp, and soon returned with a rope in his hands. His coarse but not ill-natured face wore a look of strange, exasperated commiseration. At the sight of the rope the Jew flung up his arms, sat down, and burst into sobs. The soldiers stood silently about him, and stared grimly at the earth. I went up to Girshel, addressed him; he sobbed like a baby, and did not even look at me. With a hopeless gesture I went to my tent, flung myself on a rug, and closed my eyes….

Suddenly some one ran hastily and noisily into my tent. I raised my head and saw Sara; she looked beside herself. She rushed up to me, and clutched at my hands.

‘Come along, come along,’ she insisted breathlessly.

‘Where? what for? let us stop here.’

‘To father, to father, quick… save him… save him!’

‘To what father?’

‘My father; they are going to hang him….’

‘What! is Girshel…?’

‘My father… I ’11 tell you all about it later,’ she added, wringing her hands in despair: ‘only come… come….’

We ran out of the tent. In the open ground, on the way to a solitary birch-tree, we could see a group of soldiers…. Sara pointed to them without speaking….

‘Stop,’ I said to her suddenly: ‘where are we running to? The soldiers won’t obey me.’

Sara still pulled me after her…. I must confess, my head was going round.

‘But listen, Sara,’ I said to her; ‘what sense is there in running here? It would be better for me to go to the general again; let’s go together; who knows, we may persuade him.’

Sara suddenly stood still and gazed at me, as though she were crazy.

‘Understand me, Sara, for God’s sake. I can’t do anything for your father, but the general can. Let’s go to him.’

‘But meanwhile they’ll hang him,’ she moaned….

I looked round. The secretary was standing not far off.

‘Ivanov,’ I called to him; ‘run, please, over there to them, tell them to wait a little, say I’ve gone to petition the general.’

‘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 country, 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.

‘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 instant…. ‘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.

‘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 her arms.

‘So may you be accursed,’ she screamed in German; ‘accursed, thrice accursed, you and all the hateful breed of you, with the curse of Dathan and Abiram, the curse 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 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 an 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 general and commander-in-chief!’

They put the noose on the Jew…. I shut my eyes and