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Updated: June 26, 2025
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?
Tchelkache frightened, astonished and furious threw himself backward, still seated on the sand, and leaning on his two hands silently gazed at him, his eyes starting from their orbits; the lad leaned his head on his knees and gasped forth his supplications. Tchelkache finally pushed him away, jumped to his feet, and thrusting his hand into his pocket threw the multi-colored bills at Gavrilo.
It'll be rough to-night!" said Tchelkache, nodding his head in the direction of the sea. "A storm?" asked Gavrilo. He was rowing hard. He was drenched from head to foot by the drops blown by the wind. "Ehe!" affirmed Tchelkache. Gavrilo looked at him curiously. "How much did they give you?" he asked at last, seeing that Tchelkache was not disposed to talk. "See!" said Tchelkache.
Gavrilo rowed in silence; breathing heavily, he cast sidelong glances at the spot where still rose and fell the sword of fire. He could not believe that it was only, as Tchelkache said, a lantern with a reflector. The cold, blue light, cutting the darkness, awoke silver reflections upon the sea; there seemed something mysterious about it, and Gavrilo again felt his faculties benumbed with fear.
The boy, surprised, winked, then suddenly burst out laughing and cried: "O! how funny he is!" Almost without rising from the ground, he rolled heavily along toward Tchelkache, dragging his bag in the dust and striking the stones with his scythe. "Eh! say, friend, you've been on a good spree!" said he to Tchelkache, pulling his trousers. "Just so, little one, just so!" frankly replied Tchelkache.
Are you distressed at leaving me? Eh! youngster, speak, or else I'm going!" "You're going?" cried Gavrilo, in a sonorous voice. The deserted and sandy beach trembled at this cry, and the waves of sand brought by the waves of the sea seemed to shudder. Tchelkache also shuddered.
He resolved not to speak to him, not to contradict him in anything, to execute all his commands and if he succeeded in freeing himself from him unmolested, to sing a Te Deum to Saint Nicholas. An earnest prayer was on his lips. But he controlled himself, puffed like a steamboat, and in silence cast furtive glances at Tchelkache.
He grew lively; he wanted to say something nice to his host, who, worthy man that he was, was treating him so well, before he had availed himself of his services. But the words, which vaguely mounted to his throat, refused to leave his suddenly thick tongue. Tchelkache looked at him. He said, smiling sarcastically. "So you're done for, already! . . . it isn't possible! Just for five small glasses!
The lad detested the idea of becoming the husband of some rich girl who would remain at home. His face grew dull and sad. He moved restlessly about on the ground; this roused Tchelkache from the reflections in which his speech had plunged him. Tchelkache felt that he had no more desire to talk, but he nevertheless asked: "Where are you going, now?" "Where am I going? Home, of course!"
They incline the mirror at will and light the sea to find out if any folks like us are roving over it. They're on the watch for smugglers. We're out of reach; they're too far away, now. Don't be afraid, boy, we're safe! Now, we. . ." Tchelkache looked around him triumphantly. "Yes, we're safe. Out! You were in luck, you worthless stick!"
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