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Tchelkache regarded him ironically. Gavrilo seized the oars; he rowed in nervous haste, his eyes lowered, as though he were afraid. His shoulders shook. "My God, how greedy you are! That's bad. Besides, for a peasant. . ." "Just think of what one can do with money!" exclaimed Gavrilo, passionately.
If it was only mine!" He sighed dejectedly. "We'll have a lark, little one!" enthusiastically exclaimed Tchelkache! "Have no fear: I'll pay you, brother. I'll give you forty rubles! Eh? Are you pleased? Do you want your money now?" "If you don't mind. Yes, I'll accept it!" Gavrilo trembled with anticipation; a sharp, burning pain oppressed his breast. "Ha! ha! ha! Little devil! You'll accept it?
Then Chelkash took Gavrilo under the arms, and giving him a slight shove behind with his knee, got him out into the yard of the eating-house, where he put him on the ground in the shade of a stack of wood, then he sat down beside him and lighted his pipe. Gavrilo shifted about a little, muttered, and dropped asleep. "Come, ready?"
Everything was melancholy and sounded like the lullaby of a mother, who has no hope of her child's happiness. And Chelkash fell asleep. He was the first to wake, he looked round him uneasily, but at once regained his self-possession and stared at Gavrilo who was still asleep. He was sweetly snoring, and in his sleep smiled all over his childish, sun-burned healthy face.
In a moment they were on the deck, where three dark-bearded figures, eagerly chattering together, in a strange staccato tongue looked over the side into Chelkash's boat. The fourth clad in a long gown, went up to him and pressed his hand without speaking, then looked suspiciously round at Gavrilo. "Get the money ready for me by the morning," Chelkash said to him shortly. "And now I'll go to sleep.
"Five hundred?" Gavrilo, drawled, incredulously, but he was seared at once, and quickly asked, prodding the bundle in the boat with his foot. "Why, what sort of thing may this be?" "That's silk. A costly thing. All that, if one sold it for its value, would fetch a thousand. But I sell cheap. Is that smart business?" "I sa ay?" Gavrilo drawled dubiously.
Then, he turned to Gavrilo, who continued to murmur a prayer. "Yes, brother, you're in luck. If those devils had pursued us, it would have been the end of you. Do you hear? I'd have soon sent you to the fishes." Now that Tchelkache again spoke quietly and even good-naturedly, Gavrilo, still trembling with fear, begged him: "Listen, let me go! In the name of Christ, let me go.
Over the sea hovered the vague, soft sound of its drowsy breathing. "The sea's fine, eh?" asked Chelkash. "It's all right! Only I feel scared on it," answered Gavrilo, pressing the oars vigorously and evenly through the water. The water faintly gurgled and splashed under the strokes of his long oars, splashed glittering with the warm, bluish, phosphorescent light. "Scared! What a fool!"
"Five hundred?" "Not less, probably. . ." "It's a lot! If I had it, poor beggar that I am, I'd soon let it be known." "At the village? . . ." "Sure! without delay. . ." Gavrilo let himself be carried away by his imagination. Tchelkache appeared crushed. His moustache hung down straight; his right side was all wet from the waves, his eyes were sunken in his head and without life.
Gavrilo struggled, once, twice . . . but Tchelkache's other arm entwined itself like a serpent around him . . . a noise of tearing linen, and Gavrilo slipped to the ground with bulging eyes, catching at the air with his hands and waving his legs.
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