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Updated: May 15, 2025
Gavrilo inquired again with surprised suspicion in his tone. "What sort? lines and " But Chelkash felt ashamed to lie to this boy, to conceal his real plans, and he was sorry to lose what this peasant-lad had destroyed in his heart by this question. He flew into a rage.
His eyes ached from the strain of gazing into the darkness, whence he expected every instant something would spring up and shout to them: "Stop, thieves!" Now when Chelkash whispered: "The coastguards!" Gavrilo shuddered, and one intense, burning idea passed through him, and thrilled his overstrained nerves; he longed to cry out, to call men to his aid.
Gavrilo was glad to hear a human voice, even though it was that of Tchelkache. "I know it," said he, very low. "That's right, little man! Take the tiller, I'll row; You're tired, aren't you?" Gavrilo mechanically changed places, and when Tchelkache saw that he staggered, he pitied him more still and patted him on the shoulder, "Don't be afraid! You've made a good thing out of it.
Youngster, get up!" said he touching Gavrilo with his foot. The last named started up, and not recognizing him just at first, gazed at him vacantly. Tchelkache burst out laughing. "How you're gotten up! . . ." finally exclaimed Gavrilo, smiling broadly. "You are a gentleman!" "We do that quickly here! What a coward you are! Dear, dear!
"Isn't the sea beautiful?" asked Tchelkache. "Not bad! Only one is afraid on it," replied Gavrilo, rowing evenly and strongly. The sea could scarcely be heard; it dripped from the long oars and still shone with its warm, blue phosphorescent lights. "Afraid? Simpleton!" growled Tchelkache. He, the cynical robber, loved the sea.
You'll be thanked, on the contrary, when it's learned what you've done. There, take it! No one'll know what you've done and yet it deserves some reward! Here it is!" Gavrilo saw that Tchelkache was laughing, and he felt relieved. He held the money tightly in his hand. "Brother! Will you forgive me? Won't you do it? Say?" he supplicated tearfully.
The sea reflected the lights, and was spotted with masses of yellow, quivering patches. This was very beautiful on the velvety bosom of the soft, dull black water, so rhythmically, mightily breathing. The sea slept the sound, healthy sleep of a workman, wearied out by his day's toil. "We're off!" said Gavrilo, dropping the oars into the water. "Yes!"
Facing Gavrilo at another table sat a drunken man in the dress of a sailor, with a red beard, all over coal-dust and tar. Hiccupping every minute, he was droning a song all made up of broken and incoherent words, strangely sibilant and guttural sounds. He was unmistakably not a Russian.
And this thought and feeling, filling him with a sense of his own independence and reckless daring, kept him beside Gavrilo on the desolate sea shore. "You've made me happy!" shrieked Gavrilo, and snatching Chelkash's hand, he pressed it to his face. Chelkash did not speak; he grinned like a wolf. Gavrilo still went on pouring out his heart: "Do you know what I was thinking about?
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.
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