well. Would you like to have twenty-five rubles, eh?"

"I--I don't need anything. All I ask is to reach land!"

Tchelkache removed his hand, spat and began to row; his long arms sent
the oars far back of him.

The sea had awakened. It sported with its tiny waves, brought them
forth, adorned them with a fringe of foam, tumbled them over each other
and broke them into spray. The foam as it melted sighed and the air
was filled with harmonious sounds and the plashing of water. The
darkness seemed to be alive.

"Well! tell me . . ." began Tchelkache. "You'll return to the village,
you'll marry, you'll set to work to plough and sow, your wife'll
present you with many children, you'll not have enough bread and you'll
just manage to keep soul and body together all your life! So . . . is
it such a pleasant prospect?"

"What pleasure can there be in that?" timidly and shudderingly replied
Gavrilo. "What can one do?"

Here and there, the clouds were rent by the wind and, through the
spaces, the cold sky studded with a few stars looked down. Reflected
by the joyous sea, these stars leaped upon the waves, now disappearing,
now shining brightly.

"More to the left!" said Tchelkache. "We shall soon be there, Yes!
. . . it is ended. We've done a good stroke of work. In a single
night, you understand--five hundred rubles gained! Isn't that doing