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The night was dark; the sky was overspread with shreds of heavy clouds, and the sea was calm, black and thick as oil. It exhaled a humid and salt aroma, and softly murmured as it beat against the sides of the vessels and the shore and gently rocked Tchelkache's boat. Far out at sea rose the black forms of ships; their sharp masts, surmounted with colored lanterns, were outlined against the sky.
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.
Suddenly Gavrilo darted from his place, and throwing himself at Tchelkache's feet, entwined his legs with his arms and drew him toward him. Tchelkache tottered, sat down heavily on the sand, and gritting his teeth, brandished his long arm and closed fist in the air. But before he had time to strike, he was stopped by the troubled and suppliant look of Gavrilo. "Friend! Give me . . . that money!
In a moment they were on the deck, where three dark and bearded individuals were looking over the side at Tchelkache's boat and talking animatedly in a strange and harsh language. A fourth, clad in a long gown, advanced toward Tchelkache, shook his hand in silence and cast a suspicious glance at Gavrilo. "Get the money ready for to-morrow morning," briefly said Tchelkache.
His hand sank into a sticky liquid, warm and red. He trembled and drew back, pale and distracted. "Get up, brother!" he whispered amid the noise of the falling rain into the ear of Tchelkache. Tchelkache came to himself and, repulsing Gavrilo, said in a hoarse voice: "Go away!" "Forgive me, brother: I was tempted by the devil . . ." continued Gavrilo, trembling and kissing Tchelkache's hand.
He barred Tchelkache's way, placing himself before him in an offensive attitude, his left hand on his sword, and reached out his right hand to take Tchelkache by the collar. "Stop, where are you going?" Tchelkache fell back a step, looked at the officer and smiled drily.
Tchelkache's boat stopped and rocked on the water as though hesitating. Gavrilo lay flat on the bottom of the boat, covering his face with his hands, and Tchelkache prodded him with his oar, hissing furiously, but quite low. "Idiot, that's the custom-house cruiser. The electric lantern! Get up, row with all your might! They'll throw the light upon us! You'll ruin us, devil, both of us!"
Lost in these reflections, which brought to him the consciousness of his liberty and his audacity, he remained beside Gavrilo on the lonely shore. "You have made me happy!" cried Gavrilo, seizing Tchelkache's hand and laying it against his cheek. Tchelkache was silent and showed his teeth like a wolf. Gavrilo continued to pour out his heart. "What an idea that was of mine!
The time passed slowly, more slowly than crawled the clouds up in the sky. . . And the length of time augmented the agony of the silence. But just now behind the wall, the plashing of water was heard, then a rustling, and something like a whisper. Gavrilo was half dead from fright. "Hey, there! Are you asleep? Take this! Softly!" said Tchelkache's hoarse voice.
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.
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