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“Don’t forget your mother, Iakov. Remember, you are all she has.”

“I know,” said Iakov, shrugging his shoulders.

“It is well if you know,” said the father, with a look of distrust. “I only warn you not to forget it.”

Vassili sighed deeply. For a few minutes all were silent.

Then Malva said:

“The work bell will soon ring.”

“I’m going,” said Vassili, rising.

And all rose.

“Goodbye, Serejka. If you happen to be on the Volga, maybe you’ll drop in to see me.”

“I’ll not fail,” said Serejka.

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, dear friend.”

“Goodbye, Malva,” said Vassili, not raising his eyes.

She slowly wiped her lips with her sleeve, threw her two white arms round his neck and kissed him three times on the lips and cheeks.

He was overcome with emotion and uttered some indistinct words. Iakov lowered his head, dissimulating a smile. Serejka was impassible, and he even yawned a little, at the same time gazing at the sky.

“You’ll find it hot walking,” he said.

“No matter. Goodbye, you too, Iakov.”

“Goodbye!”

They stood facing each other, not knowing what to do. The sad word “goodbye” aroused in Iakov a feeling of tenderness for his father, but he did not know how to express it. Should he embrace his father as Malva had done or shake his hand like Serejka? And Vassili felt hurt at this hesitation, which was visible in his son’s attitude.

“Remember your mother,” said Vassili, finally.

“Yes, yes,” replied Iakov, cordially. “Don’t worry. I know.”

“That’s all. Be happy. God protect you. Don’t think badly of me. The kettle, Serejka, is buried in the sand near the bow of the green boat.”

“What does he want with the kettle?” asked Iakov.

“He has taken my place yonder on the headland,” explained Vassili.

Iakov looked enviously at Serejka, then at Malva.

“Farewell, all! I’m going.”

Vassili waved his hand to them and moved away. Malva followed him.

“I’ll accompany you a bit of the road.”

Serejka sat down on the ground and seized the leg of Iakov, who was preparing to accompany Malva.

“Stop! where are you going?”

“Let me alone,” said Iakov, making a forward movement. But Serejka had seized his other leg.

“Sit down by my side.”

“Why? What new folly is this?”

“It is not folly. Sit down.”

Iakov obeyed, grinding his teeth.

“What do you want?”

“Wait. Be silent, and I’ll think, and then I’ll talk.”

He began staring at Iakov, who gave way.

Malva and Vassili walked for a few minutes in silence. Malva’s eyes shone strangely. Vassili was gloomy and preoccupied. Their feet sank in the sand and they advanced slowly.

“Vassili!”

“What?”

He turned and looked at her.

“I made you quarrel with Iakov on purpose. You might both have lived here without quarrelling,” she said in a calm tone.

There was not a shade of repentance in her words.

“Why did you do that?” asked Vassili, after a silence.

“I do not know–for nothing.”

She shrugged her shoulders and smiled.

“What you have done was noble!” he said, with irritation.

She was silent.

“You will ruin my boy, ruin him entirely. You do not fear God, you have no shame! What are you going to do?”

“What should I do?” she said.

There was a ring of anguish, or vexation, in her voice.

“What you ought to do!” cried Vassili, seized suddenly with a fierce rage.

He felt a passionate desire to strike her, to knock her down and bury her in the sand, to kick her in the face, in the breast. He clenched his fists and looked back.

Yonder, near the barrels, he saw Iakov and Serejka. Their faces were turned in his direction.

“Get away with you! I could crush you!”

He stopped and hissed insults in her face. His eyes were bloodshot, his beard trembled and his hands seemed to advance involuntarily towards Malva’s hair, which emerged from beneath her shawl.

She fixed her green eyes on him.

“You deserve killing,” he said. “Wait, some one will break your head yet.”

She smiled, still silent. Then she sighed deeply and said:

“That’s enough! now farewell!”

And suddenly turning on her heels she left him and came back.

Vassili shouted after her and shook his fists. Malva, as she walked, took pains to place each foot in the deep impressions of Vassili’s feet, and when she succeeded she carefully effaced the traces. Thus she continued on until she came to the barrels where Serejka greeted her with this question: