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. The sea reflected the
lights and appeared to be sown with yellow spots, which trembled upon
its soft velvety black bosom, rising and falling regularly. The sea
was sleeping the healthy sound sleep of the laborer after his day's
work.

"We're off!" said Gavrilo, dipping his oars.

"Let us pull!"

Tchelkache, with a strong stroke of the oar, drove the boat into an
open space between two fishing-boats; he pulled rapidly over the
shining water, which glowed, at the contact of the oars, with a blue
phosphorescent fire. A long trail of softly scintillating light
followed the boat windingly.

"Well! does your head ache very much?" asked Tchelkache, kindly.

"Horribly! It rings like a clock . . . I'm going to wet it with a
little water."

"What good will that do? Wet it rather inside; you'll come to quicker."

Tchelkache handed the bottle to Gavrilo.

"Do you think so? With the blessing of God! . . ." A soft gurgle was