Then she went out.

Iakov turned over and went to sleep.

Vassili had fixed three stakes in the sand, and with a piece of matting
had rigged up a shelter from the sun. Then he lay down flat on his back
and contemplated the sky. When Malva came up and dropped on the sand by
his side he turned towards her with vexation plainly written on his face.

"Well, old man," she said laughing, "you don't seem pleased to see your
son."

"He mocks me. And why? Because of you," replied Vassili testily.

"Oh, I am sorry. What can we do? I mustn't come here again, eh? All
right. I'll not come again."

"Siren that you are! Ah, you women! He mocks me and you too--and yet
you are what I have dearest to me."

He moved away from her and was silent. Squatting on the sand, with her
legs drawn up to her chin, Malva balanced herself gently to and fro,
idly gazing with her green eyes over the dazzling joyous sea, and she
smiled with triumph as all women do when they understand the power of
their beauty.

"Why don't you speak?" asked Vassili.

"I'm thinking," said Malva. Then after a pause she added: