“Hey there!” cried Vassili impatiently.

The sea gulls halted in their flight and listened.

“Hallo!  Hallo!” came back from the boat.  It was Malva’s sonorous voice.

“Who’s with you?”

A laugh replied to him.

“Jade!” swore Vassili under his breath.

He spat on the ground with vexation.

He was puzzled.  While he rolled a cigarette he examined the neck and back of the rower who was rapidly drawing nearer.  The sound of the water when the oars struck it resounded in the still air, and the sand crunched under the watchman’s bare feet as he stamped about in his impatience.

“Who’s with you?” he cried, when he could discern the familiar smile on Malva’s pretty plump face.

“Wait.  You’ll know him all right,” she replied laughing.

The rower turned on his seat and, also laughing, looked at Vassili.

The watchman frowned.  It seemed to him that he knew the fellow.

“Pull harder!” commanded Malva.

The stroke was so vigorous that the boat was carried up the beach on a wave, fell over on one side and then righted itself while the wave rolled back laughing into the sea.  The rower jumped out on the beach, and going up to Vassili said: 

“How are you, father?”

“Iakov!” cried Vassili, more surprised than pleased.

They embraced three times.  Afterwards Vassili’s stupor became mingled with both joy and uneasiness.  The watchman stroked his blond beard with one hand and with the other gesticulated: 

“I knew something was up; my heart told me so.  So it was you!  I kept asking myself if it was Serejka.  But I saw it was not Serejka.  How did you come here?”

Vassili would have liked to look at Malva, but his son’s rollicking eyes were upon him and he did not dare.  The pride he felt at having a son so strong and handsome struggled in him with the embarrassment caused by the presence of Malva.  He shuffled about and kept asking Iakov one question after another, often without waiting for a reply.  His head felt awhirl, and he felt particularly uneasy when he heard Malva say in a mocking tone.

“Don’t skip about—­for joy.  Take him to the cabin and give him something to eat.”

The father examined his son from head to foot.  On the latter’s lips hovered that cunning smile Vassili knew so well.  Malva turned her green eyes from the father to the son and munched melon seeds between her small white teeth.  Iakov smiled and for a few seconds, which were painful to Vassili, all three were silent.

“I’ll come back in a moment,” said Vassili suddenly going towards the cabin.  “Don’t stay there in the sun, I’m going to fetch some water.  We’ll make some soup.  I’ll give you some fish soup, Iakov.”

He seized a saucepan that was lying on the ground and disappeared behind the fishing nets.

Malva and the peasant followed him.