PAGE 12
Malva
by
“Be cursed! I curse you forever!”
Bitterness came into Vassili’s soul as he realized his own position. He sighed heavily. His head bent low as if an immense weight had crushed him. For an abandoned woman he had deserted his wife, with whom he had lived faithfully for fifteen years, and the Lord had punished him by this rebellion of his son. His son had mocked him and trampled on his heart. Yes, he was punished for the past. He made the sign of the cross and remained seated, blinking his eyes to free them from the tears that were blinding them.
And the sun went down into the sea, and the crimson twilight faded away in the sky. A warm wind caressed the face of the weeping peasant. Deep in his resolutions of repentance he stayed there until he fell asleep shortly before dawn.
* * * * *
The day following the quarrel, Iakov went off with a party to fish thirty miles out at sea. He returned alone five days later for provisions. It was midday when he arrived, and everyone was resting after dinner. It was unbearably hot. The sand burned his feet and the shells and fish bones pricked them. As Iakov carefully picked his way along the beach he regretted he had no boots on. He did not want to return to the bark as he was in a hurry to eat and to see Malva. Many a time had he thought of her during the long lonely hours on the sea. He wondered if she and his father had seen each other again and what they had said. Perhaps the old man had beaten her.
The deserted fisheries were slumbering, as if overcome by the heat. In the inspector’s office a child was crying. From behind a heap of barrels came the sound of voices.
Iakov turned his steps in that direction. He thought he recognised Malva’s voice, but when he arrived at the barrels he recoiled a step and stopped.
In the shade, lying on his back, with his arms under his head, was Serejka. Near him were, on one side, Vassili and, on the other, Malva.
Iakov thought to himself: “Why is father here. Has he left his post so as to be nearer Malva and to watch her? Should he go up to them or not.”
“So, you’ve decided!” said Serejka to Vassili. “It’s goodbye to us all? Well, go your way and scratch the soil.”
A thrill went through Iakov and he made a joyous grimace.
“Yes, I’m going;” said Vassili.
Then Iakov advanced boldly.
“Good-day, all!”
The father gave him a rapid glance and then turned away his eyes. Malva did not stir. Serejka moved his leg and raising his voice said:
“Here’s our dearly beloved son, Iakov, back from a distant shore.”
Then he added in his ordinary voice:
“You should flay him alive and make drums with his skin.”
Malva laughed.
“It’s hot,” said Iakov, sitting beside them.
“I’ve been waiting for you since this morning, Iakov. The inspector told me you were coming.”
The young man thought his voice seemed weaker than usual and his face seemed changed. He asked Serejka for a cigarette.
“I have no tobacco for an imbecile like you,” replied the latter, without stirring.
“I’m going back home, Iakov,” said Vassili, gravely digging into the sand with his fingers.
“Why,” asked the son, innocently.
“Never mind why, shall you stay?”
“Yes. I’ll remain. What should we both do at home?”
“Very well. I have nothing to say. Do as you please. You are no longer a child. Only remember that I shall not get about long. I shall live, perhaps, but I do not know how long I shall work. I have lost the habit of the soil. Remember, too, that your mother is there.”
Evidently it was difficult for him to talk. The words stuck between his teeth. He stroked his beard and his hand trembled.
Malva eyed him. Serejka had half closed one eye and with the other watched Iakov. Iakov was jubilant, but afraid of betraying himself; he was silent and lowered his head.