Vassili, moody as a dark autumn day, was arranging the net at the bottom of the boat.  Serejka watched him and, when he looked his way, smacked his lips, signifying that he wanted to drink.

“Have you any brandy,” he asked.

“Yes,” growled Vassili.

“Good.  I’ll take a nip when they’ve gone.”

“Is all ready?” cried the fishermen.

“Let go!” commanded Serejka, jumping to the ground.  “Be careful.  Go far out so as not to entangle the net.”

The big boat slid down the greased planks to the water, and the fishermen, jumping in as it went, seized the oars, ready to strike the water directly she was afloat.  Then with a big splash the graceful bark forged ahead through the great plain of luminous water.

“Why didn’t you come Sunday?” said Vassili, as the two men went back to the cabin.

“I couldn’t.”

“You were drunk?”

“No, I was watching your son and his step-mother,” said Serejka, phlegmatically.

“A new worry on your shoulders,” said Vassili, sarcastically and with a forced smile.  “They are only children.”  He was tempted to learn where and how Serejka had seen Malva and Iakov the day before, but he was ashamed.

“Why don’t you ask news of Malva?” asked Serejka, as he gulped down a glass of brandy.

“What do I care what she does?” replied Vassili, with indifference, although he trembled with a secret presentiment.

“As she didn’t come Sunday, you should ask what she was doing.  I know you are jealous, you old dog!”

“Oh, there are many like her,” said Vassili, carelessly.

“Are there?” said Serejka, imitating him.  “Ah, you peasants, you’re all alike.  As long as you gather your honey, it’s all one to you.”

“What’s she to you?” broke in Vassili with irritation.  “Have you come to ask her hand in marriage?”

“I know she’s yours,” said Serejka.  “Have I ever bothered you?  But now Iakov, your son, is all the time dancing around her, it’s different.  Beat him, do you hear?  If not, I will.  You’ve got a strong fist if you are a fool.”

Vassili did not reply, but watched the boat as it turned about and made toward the beach again.

“You are right,” he said finally.  “Iakov will hear from me.”

“I don’t like him.  He smells too much of the village,” said Serejka.

In the distance, on the sea, was opening out the pink fan formed by the rays of the rising sun.  The glowing orb was already emerging from the water.  Amid the noise of the waves was heard from the boat the distant cry: 

“Draw in!”

“Come, boys!” cried Serejka, to the other fishermen on the beach.  “Let’s pull together.”

“When you see Iakov tell him to come here to-morrow,” said Vassili.

The boat grounded on the beach and the fishermen, jumping out, pulled their end of the net so that the two groups gradually met, the cork floats bobbing up and down on the water forming a perfect semi-circle.