“Ah, there you are,” he said, sitting down beside her.

“Have you been looking for me long?” she asked, demurely.

“Looking for you?  What an idea?” replied Iakov, who was only just beginning to realize that it was the truth.

“Do you know how to read?” she asked.

“Yes—­I used to, but I’ve forgotten everything.”

“So have I.”

“Why didn’t you go to the headland to-day?” asked Iakov, suddenly.

“What’s that to you?”

Iakov plucked a leaf and chewed it.

“Listen,” he said in a low tone and drawing near her.  “Listen to what I’m going to say.  I’m young and I love you.”

“You’re a silly lad, very silly,” said Malva, shaking her head.

“I may be a fool,” cried Iakov, passionately.  “But I love you, I love you.”

“Be silent!  Go away!”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Don’t be obstinate.”  He took her gently by the shoulders.  “Can’t you understand?”

“Go away, Iakov,” she cried, severely.  “Go away!”

“Oh, if that’s the tone you take I don’t care a rap.  You’re not the only woman here.  You imagine that you are better than the others.”

She made no reply, rose and brushed the dust off her skirt.

“Come,” she said.

And they went back to the fishing grounds side by side.

They walked slowly on account of the soft sand.  Suddenly, as they were nearing the boats, Iakov stopped short and seized Malva by the arms.

“Are you driving me desperate on purpose?  Why do you play with me like this?” he demanded.

“Leave me alone, I tell you,” she said, calmly disengaging herself from his grasp.

Serejka appeared from behind a boat.  He shook his fist at the couple, and said, threateningly: 

“So, that’s how you go off together.  Vassili shall know of this.”

“Go to the devil, all of you!” cried Malva.  And she left them, disappearing among the boats.

Iakov stood facing Serejka, and looked him square in the face.  Serejka boldly returned the stare and so they remained for a minute or two, like two rams ready to charge on each other.  Then without a word each turned away and went off in a different direction.

The sea was calm and crimson with the rays of the setting sun.  A confused sound hovered over the fishing ground.  The voice of a drunken woman sang hysterically words devoid of sense.

* * * * *

In the dawn’s pure light the sea still slumbered, reflecting the pearl-like clouds.  On the headland a party of fishermen still only half awake moved slowly about, getting ready the rigging of their boat.

Serejka, bareheaded and tattered as usual, stood in the bow hurrying the men on with a hoarse voice, the result of his drunken orgy of the previous night.

“Where are the oars, Vassili?”