Mary Pavlovna’s handsome face, with the beautiful prominent eyes (he had noticed her before when the prisoners were given into his charge), evidently produced an effect on the officer. He looked at her in silence as if considering, then said: “I don’t care; carry her if you like. It is easy for you to show pity; if he ran away who would have to answer?”
“How could he run away with the child in his arms?” said Mary Pavlovna.
“I have no time to talk with you. Take her if you like.”
“Shall I give her?” asked the soldier.
“Yes, give her.”
“Come to me,” said Mary Pavlovna, trying to coax the child to come to her.
But the child in the soldier’s arms stretched herself towards her father and continued to scream, and would not go to Mary Pavlovna.
“Wait a bit, Mary Pavlovna,” said Maslova, getting a rusk out of her bag; “she will come to me.”
The little girl knew Maslova, and when she saw her face and the rusk she let her take her. All was quiet. The gates were opened, and the gang stepped out, the convoy counted the prisoners over again, the bags were packed and tied on to the carts, the weak seated on the top. Maslova with the child in her arms took her place among the women next to Theodosia. Simonson, who had all the time been watching what was going on, stepped with large, determined strides up to the officer, who, having given his orders, was just getting into a trap, and said, “You have behaved badly.”
“Get to your place; it is no business of yours.”