himself, not wanting to arouse his
father's anger.

Seeing that his son had drunk again, alone, without filling his glass,
made Vassili more angry than ever.

"Your father says to you, 'Go home,' and you laugh at him. Very well,
I'll speak differently. You'll get your pay Saturday and trot--home to
the village--do you understand?"

"I won't go," said Iakov, firmly.

"What!" cried Vassili, and leaning his two hands on the edge of the
table he rose to his feet. "Have I spoken, yes or no? You dog, barking
at your father! Do you forget that I can do what I please with you?"

His mouth trembled with passion, his face was convulsed, and two swollen
veins stood out on his temples.

"I forget nothing," said Iakov, in a low tone and not looking at his
father. "And you--have you forgotten nothing?"

"It's not your place to preach to me. I'll break every bone in your
body."

Iakov avoided the hand that his father raised over his head and a
feeling of savage hatred arose in him. He said, between his clenched
teeth:

"Don't touch me. We're not in the village now."

"Be silent. I'm your father everywhere."

They stood facing each other, Vassili, his eyes bloodshot, his neck
outstretched, his fists clenched, panted his brandy-smelling breath in
his son's face. Iakov stepped back. He was watching his father's
movements, ready to ward off blows, peaceful outwardly, but steaming
with perspiration. Between them was the table.

"Perhaps I won't give you a good beating?" cried Vassili hoarsely, and
bending his back like a cat about to make a spring.

"Here we are equal," said Iakov, watching him warily. "You are a
fisherman, I too. Why do you attack me like this? Do you think I do
not understand? You began."

Vassili howled with passion, and raised his arm to strike so rapidly
that Iakov had no time to avoid it. The blow fell on his head. He
staggered and ground his teeth in his father's face.

"Wait!" cried the latter, clenching his fists and again threatening him.

They were now at close quarters, and their feet were entangled in the
empty sacks and cordage on the floor. Iakov, protecting himself as best
he could against his father's blows, pale and bathed in perspiration,
his teeth clenched, his eyes brilliant as a wolf's, slowly retreated,
and as his father charged upon him, gesticulating with ferocity and
blind with rage, like a wild boar, he turned and ran out of the cabin,
down towards the sea