Suddenly a bell tingled lightly and nervously. The judges came out; they were Veriga, Avinovitsky, Kirillov and other stewards of the Club.
The crowd's excitement passed through the hall—suddenly everyone was silent. Avinovitsky shouted in a stentorian voice which was heard through the whole hall:
"The album, the prize for the best man's costume, has been awarded, according to the majority of cards received, to the gentleman in the costume of an ancient German."
Avinovitsky lifted the album on high and looked savagely at the crowding guests. The huge German began to make his way through the crowd. The others looked hostilely at him and obstructed his passage.
"Don't jostle, please," shouted in a tearful voice the dejected woman in the blue costume, with the glass star and the paper moon—Night.
"He's got the prize and he thinks the women must fall at his feet!" shouted a viciously angry voice.
"You won't let me pass yourself," said the German with suppressed annoyance.
At last he managed somehow to get to the judges, and Veriga presented him with the album. The band played a flourish. But the sound of the music was lost in the disorderly noise. People shouted abusive exclamations. They surrounded the German, jostled him and shouted:
"Take off your mask!"
The German said nothing. It would not have been difficult for him to get through the crowd, but he obviously hesitated to use his full strength. Goudayevsky caught hold of the album and at the same time someone quickly tore the mask from the German's face. The crowd cried out: