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Updated: June 26, 2025
You've stolen two boxes of goods again? Look out, Semenitch, be careful! Or you'll be caught one of these days!" Semenitch trembled with anger at the impudence of Tchelkache; he spat upon the ground in a vain effort to speak. Tchelkache let go his hand and turned back quietly and deliberately at the entrance to the wharf. The officer, swearing like a trooper, followed him.
The presentiment of some misfortune oppressed him a second time. He rowed like a machine, bent his shoulders as though expecting a blow to descend and felt himself void of every desire, and without soul. The emotions of that night had consumed all that was human in him. Tchelkache was more triumphant than ever: his success was complete! His nerves, accustomed to shocks, were already calmed.
"Don't let him come back again!" cried Semenitch, who had remained inside. Tchelkache crossed the road and seated himself on a stepping-block in front of the inn door. From the wharf emerged an interminable stream of loaded wagons. From the opposite direction arrived empty wagons at full speed, the drivers jolting up and down on the seats.
His face was streaked with red and his neck was scratched; he bore the traces of a recent fight. He walked along beside Tchelkache, and said under his breath: "The custom-house officers can't find two boxes of goods. They are looking for them. You understand, Grichka?" "What of it?" asked Tchelkache, measuring him calmly with his eyes. "What of it? They are looking, that's all."
Gavrilo felt himself growing heavy and dull as though his body had absorbed intoxication; his head swam and he could not see, in spite of his desire to satisfy his curiosity. Tchelkache returned; he ate and drank while he talked. At the third glass Gavrilo was drunk.
Tchelkache, erect, spare, like a wild beast, showed his teeth wickedly and laughed harshly, while his moustache worked nervously on his sharp, angular face. Never, in his whole life, had he been so deeply wounded, and never had his anger been so great. "Well! Are you happy, now?" asked he, still laughing, of Gavrilo, and turning his back to him, he walked away in the direction of the town.
The rain fell in torrents. The sea complained dully and the waves beat angrily against the beach. The two men were silent. "Good-bye!" said Tchelkache, with cold irony. He staggered, his legs trembled, and he carried his head oddly, as though he was afraid of losing it. "Pardon me, brother!" again repeated Gavrilo.
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.
"Take the oars again, dolt!" commanded Tchelkache shortly, restraining himself from pouring forth a string of fierce oaths that rose in his throat. They again changed places.
"What Michka? I don't know any Michka! Get along with you, friend, or the inspector'll see you; he " "The red-haired fellow who used to work with me on board the 'Kostroma," continued Tchelkache, unmoved. "Who stole with you would be nearer the truth! Your Michka has been sent to the hospital: his leg was crushed under a bar of iron.
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