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Updated: June 2, 2025
When you have forgiven me I'll take it," timidly said Gavrilo, falling on the wet sand at Tchelkache's feet. "You lie, fool, you'll take it at once!" said Tchelkache, confidently, and raising his head, by a painful effort, he thrust the money before his face. "Take it, take it! You haven't worked for nothing! Don't be ashamed of having failed to assassinate a man! No one will claim anyone like me.
From the wall descended a solid, square, heavy object. Gavrilo put it in the boat, then another one like it. Across the wall stretched Tchelkache's long figure. The oars reappeared mysteriously, then Gavrilo's bag fell at his feet and Tchelkache out of breath seated himself at the tiller. Gavrilo looked at him with a timid and glad smile. "Are you tired?" said he. "A little, naturally, simpleton!
Before Tchelkache's inward vision, was rapidly unfolded a series of pictures of the past that far distant past separated from the present by a wall of eleven years of vagrancy.
Tchelkache's face still beamed with a slily good-natured smile; he seemed to be planning something pleasant for himself and a surprise for Gavrilo. He put his hand in his pocket and rustled the bank-notes. "No, I'm not going. . . I. . ." Gavrilo stifled and choked. He was shaken by a storm of conflicting desires, words and feelings. He burned as though on fire.
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