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Updated: May 19, 2025
He tried to kick Gavrilo, prostrated by grief, but failed, and would have fallen if Gavrilo hadn't supported him with his shoulders. Tchelkache's face was now on a level with Gavrilo's. Both were pale, wretched and terrifying. "Fie!" Tchelkache spat in the wide opened eyes of his employe. The other humbly wiped them with his sleeve, and murmured: "Do what you will . . . I'll not say one word.
This terror was worse than the terror inspired in him by Chelkash; it penetrated into Gavrilo's bosom with icy keenness, huddled him into a cowering mass, and kept him nailed to his seat in the boat. All around was silent.
"Why " But Gavrilo's face flushed, then turned gray, and he moved irresolutely, as though he were half longing to throw himself on Chelkash, or half torn by some desire, the attainment of which was hard for him. Chelkash felt ill at ease at the sight of such excitement in this lad. He wondered what form it would take. Gavrilo began laughing strangely, a laugh that was like a sob.
Then across the wall stretched Chelkash's long figure, the oars appeared from somewhere, Gavrilo's bag dropped at his feet, and Chelkash, breathing heavily, settled himself in the stern. Gavrilo gazed at him with a glad and timid smile. "Tired?" "Bound to be that, calf! Come now, row your best! Put your back into it! You've earned good wages, mate. Half the job's done.
The boat danced on the waves that sportively splashed over its edge; it scarcely moved forward on the dark sea; which frolicked more and more gayly. The two men were dreaming, rocked on the water, and pensively looking around them. Chelkash had turned Gavrilo's thoughts to his village with the aim of encouraging and reassuring him.
And at last, when a blow from the sharp end of the oar struck Gavrilo's head more violently, he jumped up, still afraid to open his eyes, sat down on the seat, and, fumbling for the oars, rowed the boat on. "Quietly! I'll kill you! Didn't I tell you? There, quietly! Ah, you fool, damn you! What are you frightened of? Eh, pig face? A lantern and a reflector, that's all it is. Softly with the oars!
Tchelkache, while clambering over the bales to return to the helm, experienced a sharp desire to give Gavrilo a good blow that would send him overboard, and, at the same time, he could not muster strength to look him in the face. The short conversation was ended; but now Gavrilo's silence even savored to Tchelkache of the village.
Chelkash staggered; he sat heavily down on the sand, and grinding his teeth, brandished his long arm and clenched fist in the air. But before he had time to strike he was pulled up by Gavrilo's shame-faced and supplicating whisper: "Friend! Give me that money! Give it me, for Christ's sake! What is it to you?
When the sharp edge of the oar had been brought down once more, harder this time, on Gavrilo's back, he arose and, not daring to open his eyes, resumed his seat and feeling for the oars, sent the boat ahead. "Softly, or I'll kill you! Softly! Imbecile, may the devil take you! What are you afraid of? Say? A lantern and a mirror. That's all! Softly with those oars, miserable wretch!
He wondered what form it would take in breaking out. Gavrilo gave a laugh, a strange laugh, like a sob. His head was bent, so that Tchelkache could not see the expression of his face; he could only perceive Gavrilo's ears, by turns red and white. "Go to the devil!" exclaimed Tchelkache, motioning with his hand. "Are you in love with me? Say? Look at you mincing like a young girl.
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