Tchelkache was enveloped in a peaceful whiff of natal air that was wafting toward him the sweet words of his mother, the sage counsel of his father, the stern peasant, and many forgotten sounds and savory odors of the earth, frozen as in the springtime, or freshly ploughed, or lastly, covered with young wheat, silky, and green as an emerald.. Then he felt himself a pitiable, solitary being, gone astray, without attachments and an outcast from the life where the blood in his veins had been formed.
"Hey! Where are we going?" suddenly asked Gavrilo.
Tchelkache started and turned around with the uneasy glance of a wild beast.
"Oh! the devil! Never mind.. Row more cautiously.. We're almost there."
"Were you dreaming?" asked Gavrilo, smiling.
Tchelkache looked searchingly at him. The lad was entirely himself again; calm, gay, he even seemed complacent. He was very young, all his life was before him. That was bad! But perhaps the soil would retain him. At this thought, Tchelkache grew sad again, and growled out in reply:
"I'm tired!.. and the boat rocks!"
"Of course it rocks! So, now, there's no danger of being caught with this?"
Gavrilo kicked the bales.
"No, be quiet. I'm going to deliver them at once and receive the money. Yes!"
"Five hundred?"
"Not less, probably.."
"It's a lot! If I had it, poor beggar that I am, I'd soon let it be known."
"At the village?."
"Sure! without delay.."
Gavrilo let himself be carried away by his imagination. Tchelkache appeared crushed. His moustache hung down straight; his right side was all wet from the waves, his eyes were sunken in his head and without life. He was a pitiful and dull object. His likeness to a bird of prey had disappeared; self-abasement appeared in the very folds of his dirty blouse.
"I'm tired, worn out!"
"We are landing.. Here we are."
Tchelkache abruptly turned the boat and guided it toward something black that arose from the water.
The sky was covered with clouds, and a fine, drizzling rain began to fall, pattering joyously on the crests of the waves.
"Stop!.. Softly!" ordered Tchelkache.
The bow of the boat hit the hull of a vessel.
"Are the devils sleeping?" growled Tchelkache, catching the ropes hanging over the side with his boat-hook. "The ladder isn't lowered. In this rain, besides.. It couldn't have rained before! Eh! You vermin, there! Eh!"
"Is that you Selkache?" came softly from above.
"Lower the ladder, will you!"
"Good-day, Selkache."
"Lower the ladder, smoky devil!" roared Tchelkache.
"Oh! Isn't he ill-natured to-day.. Eh! Oh!"
"Go up, Gavrilo!" commanded Tchelkache to his companion.
In a moment they were on the deck, where three dark and bearded individuals were looking over the side at Tchelkache's boat and talking animatedly in a strange and harsh language. A fourth, clad in a long gown, advanced toward Tchelkache, shook his hand in silence and cast a suspicious glance at Gavrilo.
"Get the money ready for to-morrow morning," briefly said Tchelkache.
"I'm going to sleep, now. Come Gavrilo. Are you hungry?"
"I'm sleepy," replied Gavrilo,
In five minutes, he was snoring on the dirty deck; Tchelkache sitting beside him, was trying on an old boot that he found lying there. He softly whistled, animated both by sorrow and anger. Then he lay down beside Gavrilo, without removing the boot from his foot, and putting his hands under the back of his neck he carefully examined the deck, working his lips the while.
The boat rocked joyously on the water; the sound of wood creaking dismally was heard, the rain fell softly on the deck, the waves beat against the sides. Everything resounded sadly like the lullaby of a mother who has lost all hope for the happiness of her son.
Tchelkache, with parted lips, raised his head and gazed around him.. and murmuring a few words, lay down again.
* * * * *
He was the first to awaken, starting up uneasily; then suddenly quieting down he looked at Gavrilo, who was still sleeping. The lad was smiling in his sleep, his round, sun-burned face irradiated with joy.
Tchelkache sighed and climbed up a narrow rope ladder. The opening of the trap-door framed a piece of leaden sky. It was daylight, but the autumn weather was gray and gloomy.
It was two hours before Tchelkache reappeared. His face was red, his moustache curled fiercely upward; his eyes beamed with gaiety and good-nature. He wore high, thick boots, a coat and leather trowsers; he looked like a hunter. His costume, which, although a little worn, was still in good condition and fitted him well, made him appear broader, concealed his too angular lines and gave him a martial air.
"Hey! Youngster, get up!" said he touching Gavrilo with his foot.
The last named started up, and not recognizing him just at first, gazed at him vacantly. Tchelkache burst out laughing.
"How you're gotten up!." finally exclaimed Gavrilo, smiling broadly. "You are a gentleman!"
"We do that quickly here! What a coward you are! Dear, dear! How many times did you make up your mind to die last night, eh? Say.."
"But you see, it's the first time I've ever done anything like this!
One might lose his soul for the rest of his days!"
"Would you be willing to go again?"
"Again? I must know first what there would be in it for me."
"Two hundred."
"Two hundred, you say? Yes I'd go."
"Stop!.. And your soul?"
"Perhaps I shouldn't lose it!" said Gavrilo, smiling. "And then one would be a man for the rest of his days!"
Tchelkache burst out laughing. "That's right, but we've joked long enough! Let us row to the shore. Get ready."
"I? Why I'm ready.."
They again took their places in the boat. Tchelkache at the helm,
Gavrilo rowing.
The gray sky was covered with clouds; the troubled, green sea, played with their craft, tossing it on its still tiny waves that broke over it in a shower of clear, salt drops. Far off, before the prow of the boat, appeared the yellow line of the sandy beach; back of the stern was the free and joyous sea, all furrowed by the troops of waves that ran up and down, already decked in their superb fringe of foam. In the far distance, ships were rocking on the bosom of the sea and, on the left, was a whole forest of masts mingled with the white masses of the houses of the town. Prom there, a dull murmur is borne out to sea and blending with the sound of the waves swelled into rapturous music. Over all stretched a thin veil of mist, widening the distance between the different objects.
"Eh! It'll be rough to-night!" said Tchelkache, nodding his head in the direction of the sea.
"A storm?" asked Gavrilo. He was rowing hard. He was drenched from head to foot by the drops blown by the wind.
"Ehe!" affirmed Tchelkache.
Gavrilo looked at him curiously.
"How much did they give you?" he asked at last, seeing that Tchelkache was not disposed to talk.
"See!" said Tchelkache. He held out toward Gavrilo something that he drew from his pocket.
Gavrilo saw the variegated banknotes, and they assumed in his eyes all the colors of the rainbow.
"Oh! And I thought you were boasting! How much?"
"Five hundred and forty! Isn't that a good haul?"
"Certain!" murmured Gavrilo, following with greedy eyes the five hundred and forty roubles as they again disappeared in the pocket. "Ah! If it was only mine!" He sighed dejectedly.
"We'll have a lark, little one!" enthusiastically exclaimed Tchelkache!
"Have no fear: I'll pay you, brother. I'll give you forty rubles! Eh?
Are you pleased? Do you want your money now?"
"If you don't mind. Yes, I'll accept it!"
Gavrilo trembled with anticipation; a sharp, burning pain oppressed his breast.
"Ha! ha! ha! Little devil! You'll accept it? Take it, brother, I beg of you! I implore you, take it! I don't know where to put all this money; relieve me, here!"
Tchelkache handed Gavrilo several ten ruble notes. The other took them with a shaking hand, dropped the oars and proceeded to conceal his booty in his blouse, screwing up his eyes greedily, and breathing noisily as though he were drinking something hot. Tchelkache regarded him ironically. Gavrilo seized the oars; he rowed in nervous haste, his eyes lowered, as though he were afraid. His shoulders shook.
"My God, how greedy you are! That's bad. Besides, for a peasant.."
"Just think of what one can do with money!" exclaimed Gavrilo, passionately. He began to talk brokenly and rapidly, as though pursuing an idea, and seizing the words on the wing, of life in the country with and without money. "Respect, ease, liberty, gaiety.."
Tchelkache listened attentively with a serious countenance and inscrutable eyes. Occasionally, he smiled in a pleased manner.
"Here we are!" he said at last.
A wave seized hold of the boat and landed it high on the sand.
"Ended, ended, quite ended! We must draw the boat up farther, so that it will be out of reach of the tide. They will come after it. And, now, good-bye. The town is eight versts from here. You'll return to town, eh?"
Tchelkache's face still beamed with a slily good-natured smile; he seemed to be planning something pleasant for himself and a surprise for Gavrilo. He put his hand in his pocket and rustled the bank-notes.
"No, I'm not going.. I.."
Gavrilo stifled and choked. He was shaken by a storm of conflicting desires, words and feelings. He burned as though on fire.
Tchelkache gazed at him with astonishment.
"What's the matter with you?" he asked.
"Nothing."
But Gavrilo's face grew red and then ashy pale. The lad moved his feet restlessly as though he would have thrown himself upon Tchelkache, or as though he were torn by Borne secret desire difficult to realize.
His suppressed excitement moved Tchelkache to some apprehension. He wondered what form it would take in breaking out.
Gavrilo gave a laugh, a strange laugh, like a sob. His head was bent, so that Tchelkache could not see the expression of his face; he could only perceive Gavrilo's ears, by turns red and white.
"Go to the devil!" exclaimed Tchelkache, motioning with his hand. "Are you in love with me? Say? Look at you mincing like a young girl. Are you distressed at leaving me? Eh! youngster, speak, or else I'm going!"
"You're going?" cried Gavrilo, in a sonorous voice. The deserted and sandy beach trembled at this cry, and the waves of sand brought by the waves of the sea seemed to shudder. Tchelkache also shuddered. Suddenly Gavrilo darted from his place, and throwing himself at Tchelkache's feet, entwined his legs with his arms and drew him toward him. Tchelkache tottered, sat down heavily on the sand, and gritting his teeth, brandished his long arm and closed fist in the air. But before he had time to strike, he was stopped by the troubled and suppliant look of Gavrilo.
"Friend! Give me.. that money! Give it to me, in the name of Heaven. What need have you of it? It is the earnings of one night.. a single night.. And it would take me years to get as much as that.. Give it to me.. I'll pray for you.. all my life.. in three churches.. for the safety of your soul. You'll throw it to the winds, and I'll give it to the earth. Oh! give me that money. What will you do with it, say? Do you care about it as much as that? One night.. and you are rich! Do a good deed! You are lost, you!.. You'll never come back again to the way, while I!.. Ah! give it to me!"
Tchelkache frightened, astonished and furious threw himself backward, still seated on the sand, and leaning on his two hands silently gazed at him, his eyes starting from their orbits; the lad leaned his head on his knees and gasped forth his supplications. Tchelkache finally pushed him away, jumped to his feet, and thrusting his hand into his pocket threw the multi-colored bills at Gavrilo.
"There, dog, swallow them!" he cried trembling with mingled feelings of anger, pity and hate for this greedy slave. Now that he had thrown him the money, he felt himself a hero. His eyes, his whole person, beamed with conscious pride.
"I meant to have given you more. I pitied you yesterday. I thought of the village. I said to myself: 'I'll help this boy.' I was waiting to see what you'd do, whether you'd ask me or not. And now, see! tatterdemalion, beggar, that you are!.. Is it right to work oneself up to such a state for money.. to suffer like that? Imbeciles, greedy devils who forget.. who would sell themselves for five kopeks, eh?"
"Friend.. Christ's blessing on you! What is this? What? Thousands?.. I'm a rich man, now!" screamed Gavrilo, in a frenzy of delight, hiding the money in his blouse. "Ah! dear man! I shall, never forget this! never! And I'll beg my wife and children to pray for you."
Tchelkache listened to these cries of joy, gazed at this face, irradiated and disfigured by the passion of covetousness; he felt that he himself, the thief and vagabond, freed from all restraining influence, would never become so rapacious, so vile, so lost to all decency. Never would he sink so low as that! Lost in these reflections, which brought to him the consciousness of his liberty and his audacity, he remained beside Gavrilo on the lonely shore.
"You have made me happy!" cried Gavrilo, seizing Tchelkache's hand and laying it against his cheek.
Tchelkache was silent and showed his teeth like a wolf. Gavrilo continued to pour out his heart.
"What an idea that was of mine! We were rowing here.. I saw the money.. I said to myself:
"Suppose I were to give him.. give you.. a blow with the oar.. just one! The money would be mine; as for him, I'd throw him in the sea.. you, you understand? Who would ever notice his disappearance? And if you were found, no inquest would be made: who, how, why had you been killed? You're not the kind of man for whom any stir would be made! You're of no use on the earth! Who would take your part? That's the way it would be! Eh?"
"Give back that money!" roared Tchelkache, seizing Gavrilo by the throat.
Gavrilo struggled, once, twice.. but Tchelkache's other arm entwined itself like a serpent around him.. a noise of tearing linen, – and Gavrilo slipped to the ground with bulging eyes, catching at the air with his hands and waving his legs. Tchelkache, erect, spare, like a wild beast, showed his teeth wickedly and laughed harshly, while his moustache worked nervously on his sharp, angular face. Never, in his whole life, had he been so deeply wounded, and never had his anger been so great.
"Well! Are you happy, now?" asked he, still laughing, of Gavrilo, and turning his back to him, he walked away in the direction of the town.
But he had hardly taken two steps when Gavrilo, crouching like a cat, threw a large, round stone at him, crying furiously:
"O – one!"
Tchelkache groaned, raised his hands to the back of his neck and stumbled forward, then turned toward Gavrilo and fell face downward on the sand. He moved a leg, tried to raise his head and stiffened, vibrating like a stretched cord. At this, Gavrilo began to run, to run far away, yonder, to where the shadow of that ragged cloud overhung the misty steppe. The murmuring waves, coursing over the sands, joined him and ran on and on, never stopping. The foam hissed, the spray flew through the air.
The rain fell. Slight at first, it soon came down thickly, heavily and came from the sky in slender streams. They crossed, forming a net that soon shut off the distance on land and water. For a long time there was nothing to be seen but the rain and this long body lying on the sand beside the sea.. But suddenly, behold Gavrilo coming from out the rain, running; he flew like a bird. He went up to Tchelkache, fell upon his knees before him, and tried to turn him over. His hand sank into a sticky liquid, warm and red. He trembled and drew back, pale and distracted.
"Get up, brother!" he whispered amid the noise of the falling rain into the ear of Tchelkache.
Tchelkache came to himself and, repulsing Gavrilo, said in a hoarse voice:
"Go away!"
"Forgive me, brother: I was tempted by the devil." continued
Gavrilo, trembling and kissing Tchelkache's hand.
"Go, go away!" growled the other.
"Absolve my sin! Friend.. forgive me!"
"Go, go to the devil!" suddenly cried out Tchelkache, sitting up on the sand. His face was pale, threatening; his clouded eyes closed as though he were very sleepy.. "What do you want, now? You've finished your business.. go! Off with you!"
He tried to kick Gavrilo, prostrated by grief, but failed, and would have fallen if Gavrilo hadn't supported him with his shoulders. Tchelkache's face was now on a level with Gavrilo's. Both were pale, wretched and terrifying.
"Fie!"
Tchelkache spat in the wide opened eyes of his employe.
The other humbly wiped them with his sleeve, and murmured:
"Do what you will.. I'll not say one word. Pardon me, in the name of Heaven!"
"Fool, you don't even know how to steal!" cried Tchelkache, contemptuously. He tore his shirt under his waistcoat and, gritting his teeth in silence, began to bandage his head.
"Have you taken the money?" he asked, at last.
"I haven't taken it, brother; I don't want it! It brings bad luck!"
Tchelkache thrust his hand into his waistcoat pocket, withdrew the package of bills, put one of them in his pocket and threw all the rest at Gavrilo.
"Take that and be off!"
"I cannot take it.. I cannot! Forgive me!"
"Take it, I tell you!" roared Tchelkache, rolling his eyes frightfully.
"Pardon me! When you have forgiven me I'll take it," timidly said
Gavrilo, falling on the wet sand at Tchelkache's feet.
"You lie, fool, you'll take it at once!" said Tchelkache, confidently, and raising his head, by a painful effort, he thrust the money before his face. "Take it, take it! You haven't worked for nothing! Don't be ashamed of having failed to assassinate a man! No one will claim anyone like me. You'll be thanked, on the contrary, when it's learned what you've done. There, take it! No one'll know what you've done and yet it deserves some reward! Here it is!"
Gavrilo saw that Tchelkache was laughing, and he felt relieved. He held the money tightly in his hand.
"Brother! Will you forgive me? Won't you do it? Say?" he supplicated tearfully.
"Little brother!" mimicked Tchelkache, rising on his tottering limbs. "Why should I pardon you? There's no occasion for it. To-day it's you, to-morrow it'll be me."
"Ah! brother, brother!" sighed Gavrilo, sorrowfully, shaking his head.
Tchelkache was standing before him, smiling strangely; the cloth wrapped around his head, gradually reddening, resembled a Turkish head-dress.
The rain fell in torrents. The sea complained dully and the waves beat angrily against the beach.
The two men were silent.
"Good-bye!" said Tchelkache, with cold irony.
He staggered, his legs trembled, and he carried his head oddly, as though he was afraid of losing it.
"Pardon me, brother!" again repeated Gavrilo.
"It's nothing!" drily replied Tchelkache, as he supported his head with his left hand and gently pulled his moustache with his right.
Gavrilo stood gazing after him until he had disappeared in the rain that still fell in fine, close drops, enveloping the steppe in a mist as impenetrable and gray as steel.
Then Gavrilo took off his wet cap, made the sign of the cross, looked at the money pressed tightly in his hand and drew a long, deep sigh; he concealed his booty in his blouse and began to walk, taking long strides, in the opposite direction to that in which Tchelkache had gone.
The sea thundered, threw great heavy waves upon the sand and broke them into foam and spray. The rain lashed the sea and land pitilessly; the wind roared. All the air around was filled with plaints, cries and dull sounds. The rain masked sea and sky..
The rain and the breaking waves soon washed away the red spot where Tchelkache had been struck to the ground; they soon effaced his footprints and those of the lad on the sand, and the lonely beach was left without the slightest trace of the little drama that had been played between these two men.