Henceforward, he thought, his life would be less agreeable, less free.
Iakov had surely guessed what Malva was.

Meanwhile Malva, in the cabin, was trying to arouse the rustic with her
bold eyes.

"Perhaps you left a girl in the village?" she asked suddenly.

"Perhaps," he responded surlily.

Inwardly he was abusing Malva.

"Is she pretty?" she asked with indifference.

Iakov made no reply.

"Why don't you answer? Is she better looking than I, or no?"

He looked at her in spite of himself. Her cheeks were sunburnt and
plump, her lips red and tempting and now, parted in a malicious smile,
showing the white even teeth, they seemed to tremble. Her bust was full
and firm under a pink cotton waist that set off to advantage her trim
waist and well-rounded arms. But he did not like her green and cynical
eyes.

"Why do you talk like that?" he asked.

He sighed without reason and spoke in a beseeching tone, yet he wanted
to speak brutally to her.