The ladies of K——­, hearing the regiment approaching, forsook their pans of boiling jam and ran into the street.  Forgetting their morning deshabille and general untidiness, they rushed breathless with excitement to meet the regiment, and listened greedily to the band playing the march.  Looking at their pale, ecstatic faces, one might have thought those strains came from some heavenly choir rather than from a military brass band.

“The regiment!” they cried joyfully.  “The regiment is coming!”

What could this unknown regiment that came by chance to-day and would depart at dawn to-morrow mean to them?

Afterwards, when the officers were standing in the middle of the square, and, with their hands behind them, discussing the question of billets, all the ladies were gathered together at the examining magistrate’s and vying with one another in their criticisms of the regiment.  They already knew, goodness knows how, that the colonel was married, but not living with his wife; that the senior officer’s wife had a baby born dead every year; that the adjutant was hopelessly in love with some countess, and had even once attempted suicide.  They knew everything.  When a pock-marked soldier in a red shirt darted past the windows, they knew for certain that it was Lieutenant Rymzov’s orderly running about the town, trying to get some English bitter ale on tick for his master.  They had only caught a passing glimpse of the officers’ backs, but had already decided that there was not one handsome or interesting man among them. . . .  Having talked to their hearts’ content, they sent for the Military Commandant and the committee of the club, and instructed them at all costs to make arrangements for a dance.

Their wishes were carried out.  At nine o’clock in the evening the military band was playing in the street before the club, while in the club itself the officers were dancing with the ladies of K——.  The ladies felt as though they were on wings.  Intoxicated by the dancing, the music, and the clank of spurs, they threw themselves heart and soul into making the acquaintance of their new partners, and quite forgot their old civilian friends.  Their fathers and husbands, forced temporarily into the background, crowded round the meagre refreshment table in the entrance hall.  All these government cashiers, secretaries, clerks, and superintendents—­stale, sickly-looking, clumsy figures—­were perfectly well aware of their inferiority.  They did not even enter the ball-room, but contented themselves with watching their wives and daughters in the distance dancing with the accomplished and graceful officers.

Among the husbands was Shalikov, the tax-collector—­a narrow, spiteful soul, given to drink, with a big, closely cropped head, and thick, protruding lips.  He had had a university education; there had been a time when he used to read progressive literature and sing students’ songs, but now, as he said of himself, he was a tax-collector and nothing more.