cloud of smoke. "I thought better of you than that."

"I love none of you," she said, again indifferent and wafting the smoke
away with her hand.

"But if you don't love him, why did you let him beat you?"

"Do you suppose I know? Leave me alone."

"It's funny," said Serejka, shaking his head.

Both remained silent.

Night was falling. The shadows came down from the slow-moving clouds to
the seas beneath. The waves murmured.

Vassili's fire had gone out on the distant headland, but Malva continued
to gaze in that direction.

* * * * *

The father and son were seated in the cabin facing each other, and
drinking brandy which the youth had brought with him to conciliate the
old man and so as not to be weary in his company.

Serejka had told Iakov that his father was angry with him on account of
Malva, and that he had threatened to beat Malva until she was half dead.
He also said that was the reason she resisted Iakov's advances.

This story had excited Iakov's resentment against his father. He now
looked upon him as an obstacle in his road that he could neither remove
nor get around.

But feeling himself of equal strength as his adversary, Iakov regarded
his father boldly, with a look that meant: "Touch me if you dare!"

They had both drunk two glasses without exchanging a word, except a few
commonplace remarks about the fisheries. Alone amidst the deserted
waters each nursed his hatred, and both knew that this hate would soon
burst forth into flame.

"How's Serejka?" at last Vassili blurted out.

"Drunk as usual," replied Iakov, pouring our some more brandy for his
father.

"He'll end badly--and if you don't take care you'll do the same."

"I shall never become like him," replied Iakov, surlily.

"No?" said Vassili, frowning. "I know what I'm talking about. How long
are you here already? Two months. You must soon think of going back.
How much money have you saved?"

"In so little time I've not been able to save any," replied Iakov.

"Then you don't want to stay here any longer, my lad, go back to the
village."

Iakov smiled.

"Why these grimaces?" cried Vassili threateningly, and impatient at his
son's coolness. "Your father's advising you and you mock him. You're
in too much of a hurry to play the independent. You want to be put in
the traces again."

Iakov poured out some more brandy and drank it. These coarse reproaches
offended him, but he mastered