ng over
it. They're on the watch for smugglers. We're out of reach; they're
too far away, now. Don't be afraid, boy, we're safe! Now, we. . ."

Tchelkache looked around him triumphantly.

"Yes, we're safe. Out! You were in luck, you worthless stick!"

Gavrilo rowed in silence; breathing heavily, he cast sidelong glances
at the spot where still rose and fell the sword of fire. He could not
believe that it was only, as Tchelkache said, a lantern with a
reflector. The cold, blue light, cutting the darkness, awoke silver
reflections upon the sea; there seemed something mysterious about it,
and Gavrilo again felt his faculties benumbed with fear. The
presentiment of some misfortune oppressed him a second time. He rowed
like a machine, bent his shoulders as though expecting a blow to
descend and felt himself void of every desire, and without soul. The
emotions of that night had consumed all that was human in him.

Tchelkache was more triumphant than ever: his success was complete!
His nerves, accustomed to shocks, were already calmed. His lips
trembled and his eyes shone with an eager light. He felt strong and
well, whistled softly, inhaled long breaths of the salt sea air,
glanced about from right to left and smiled good-naturedly when his
eyes fell upon Gavrilo.

A light breeze set a thousand little waves to dancing. The clouds
became thinner and more transparent although still covering the sky.
The wind swept lightly and freely over the entire surface of the sea,
but the clouds remained motionless, and seemed to be plunged in a dull,
gray reverie.

"Come, brother, wake up, it's time! Your soul seems to have been
shaken out of your skin; there's nothing left but a bag of bones. My
dear fellow! We have hold of the good end, eh?"

Gavrilo was glad to hear a human voice, even though it was that of
Tchelkache.

"I know it," said he, very low.

"That's right, little man! Take the tiller, I'll row; You're tired,
aren't you?"

Gavrilo mechanically changed places, and when Tchelkache saw that he
staggered, he pitied him more still and patted him on the shoulder,

"Don't be afraid! You've made a good thing out of it. I'll pay you
well. Would you like to have twenty-five rubles, eh?"

"I--I don't need anything. All I ask is to reach land!"

Tchelkache removed his hand, spat and began to row; his long arms sent
the oars far back of him.

The sea had awakened. It sported with its tiny waves,