sands, with their vast stretch of sea and sky, and to be away from vile beings.  Because you are here is nothing to me.  If this were Serejka’s place I should come here.  If your son lived here, I should come too.  It would be better still if no one were here, for I am disgusted with you all.  But if I take it into my head one day—­beautiful as I am—­I can always choose a man, and one who’ll please me better than you.”

“So, so!” hissed Vassili, furiously, and he seized her by the throat.  “So that’s your game, is it?”

He shook her, and she did not strive to get away from his grasp, although her face was congested and her eyes bloodshot.  She merely placed her two hands on the rough hands that were around her throat.

“Ah, now I know you!” Vassili was hoarse with rage.  “And yet you said you loved me, and you kissed me and caressed me?  Ah, I’ll show you!”

Holding her down to the ground, he struck her repeatedly with his clenched fist.  Finally, fatigued with the exertion, he pushed her away from him crying: 

“There, serpent.  Now you’ve got what you deserved.”

Without a complaint, silent and calm, Malva fell back on her back, all crumpled, red and still beautiful.  Her green eyes watched him furtively under the lashes, and burned with a cold flame full of hatred, but he, gasping with excitement and satisfied with the punishment he had inflicted, did not notice the look, and when he stooped down towards her to see if she was crying, she smiled up at him gently.

He looked at her, not understanding and not knowing what to do next.  Should he beat her again?  But his fury was appeased, and he had no desire to recommence.

“How you love me!” she whispered.

Vassili felt hot all over.

“All right! all right! the devil take you,” he said gloomily.  “Are you satisfied now?”

“Was I not foolish, Vassili?  I thought you no longer loved me!  I said to myself, ‘now his son is here he will neglect me for him.’”

And she burst out laughing, a strange forced laugh.

“Foolish girl!” said Vassili, smiling in spite of himself.

He felt himself at fault, and was sorry for her, but remembering what she had said, he went on crossly: 

“My son has nothing to do with it.  If I beat you it was your own fault.  Why did you cross me?”

“I did it on purpose to try you.”

And purring like a cat she rubbed herself against his shoulder.

He glanced furtively towards the cabin and bending down embraced the young woman.

“To try me?” he repeated.  “As if you wanted to do that?  You see the result?”

“Oh, that’s nothing!” said Malva, half closing her eyes.  “I’m not angry.  You beat me only because you loved me.  You’ll make it up to me.”

She gave him a long look, trembled and lowering her voice repeated: 

“Oh, yes, you’ll make it up to me.”