The sea laughed.

It thrilled beneath the warm light breath of the wind, and its surface became covered with faint ripples, reflecting dazzingly the sun; whilst, with its thousand silvery lips it laughed back to the sky. The vast space between the sea and the sky seemed filled with the joyful hum of wave-voices, rippling up, one after the other, over the flat shore of the sandy cape. This sound blended with the flashes of sunlight, reflected a thousandfold by the sea, and melted harmoniously into one ceaseless agitation full of living joy. The sky was happy as it poured forth light; the sea was happy as it reflected the glory of the sunlight.

The wind caressed the smooth powerful bosom of the sea, warmed by the sun's ardent rays; and the ocean seemed to sigh as if fatigued with these amorous caresses; it filled the burning air with the salt smell of its emanations. The greenish waves, lapping the yellow sands, tossed forwards the white froth of their crests, which melted with gentle hissing sounds, moistening the foreshore....

The long narrow tongue of earth resembled some enormous tower which had fallen on to its side into the sea. Its slender point was planted in the vast solitude of the water, laughing up to the sun; whilst its base seemed lost in the distance, where a warm haze hid the mainland. There came from thence with the breeze a heavy smell, incomprehensible and offensive out here, in the midst of the wild pure sea, under the dome of clear blue sky.

Fixed in the sand, which seemed in part covered with fish-scales, were wooden posts. From these fishing-nets hung to dry, casting delicate shadows, fine and light as spiders-webs. A few large boats and one smaller one lay in a line on the beach, and the waves as they ran up towards them seemed to be calling them.

Oars, coils of rope, and barrels lay about in disorder; whilst amongst them rose a hut made of willow-branches, of bark and of matting. At the door of the hut, on the knotted fork of the branch of a tree, hung, soles upwards, two felt boots; and above this general chaos floated a strip of red rag at the top of a high mast.

In the shade of a boat Vassili Legostev was lying down; his duty was to watch over the interests of the fishing merchant Grebentchikok, whose fisheries were established on this promontory. Lying flat on his stomach, his head in his hands, he was watching with a fixed gaze the sea, and still further away the almost invisible coast-line. Over there, on the water, a black speck was dancing up and down, and Vassili watched it with satisfaction as it grew larger, and drew nearer.

Half closing his eyes, to shut out the strong glare from the waves, his face beamed with pleasure: it was Malva who was coming. She would come laughing so joyously that her bosom would rise and fall in tempting throbs; she would throw her soft strong arms around him, would kiss him, and in her sonorous voice that frightened away the seagulls she would give him news of what was going on over there on the shore. Together they would make some capital fish-soup and they would drink vodka, whilst they chatted and played about together; then as the daylight waned they would regale themselves with boiling hot tea and little rolls, and afterwards go to bed. This was how they spent every Sunday and feast-day. At dawn he would take her, still heavy with sleep, back across the sea through the fresh morning air. Malva with sleepy eyes would sit down near the rudder, and he would row and watch her. She was so quaint at those times—quaint and charming, like? soft little cat that has eaten a good meal. Sometimes she would slide down to the bottom of the boat, and would sleep there, rolled up against him like a ball. Often she did this.

To-day even the gulls seemed languid with the heat They stood in rows on the sand, their beaks open, and their wings hanging; or else they rocked idly on the waves without uttering their accustomed cries, or showing their usual fierce animation.

It seemed to Vassili that Malva was not alone in the boat Could it be that Sereja had come with her again? Vassili moved uneasily on the sand, and then sat up shading his eyes with his hand; he seemed trying, with a vexed expression on his face, to discover who it could be who was arriving.... Malva was holding the rudder. It was not Sereja rowing with that strong but clumsy stroke. If it had been Sereja, Malva would not have troubled herself to steer.

"Ahoy!" cried Vassili impatiently.

The seagulls were startled, and became attentive.

"Ahoy! Ahoy!" replied from the boat the clear voice of Malva.

"Who have you got with you?"

The only reply he received was a laugh.

"The little devil!" swore Vassili under his breath.

He spat on one side with an offended gesture.

He was full of curiosity. Whilst rolling a cigarette, he scanned the neck and the back of the rower who was approaching rapidly. The noise made by the oars striking the water, rang through the air, and the sand was ground beneath the bare feet of the keeper who was struggling against a nervous fit of curiosity.

"Who is with you?" he cried when he was able to discern the smile, so familiar to him, on the beautiful round face of Malva.

"Just wait!... You will recognize him yourself all right!" she answered laughing.

The rower turned round, and laughing also, looked full at Vassili, The keeper frowned; it appeared to him he had seen the lad before.

"Row faster!" Malva ordered.

The impetus was so strong that the boat was tossed sideways on to the shore by a wave, and then righted herself whilst the wave rolled laughing back into the sea. The rower jumped ashore, and went straight up to Vassili—

"Good-day, father!"

"Jakoff!" exclaimed Vassili, more astonished than pleased.

They kissed each other three times on the mouth and on the cheeks; after which Vassili's astonishment was a mixture of joy and of trouble.

"I felt sure ... there was something ... my heart told me so.... Ah! it's you ... How did you manage it?... And I, who was saying to myself, Is it Sereja?... No; I could see quite well it wasn't Sereja!... And now I find it's you!"

Vassili was stroking his beard with one hand, and with the other he was gesticulating in the air. He would have liked to have looked at Malva, but the bright eyes of his son were fixed on him and made him feel awkward. His pride, in having a son so strong and so handsome, was struggling against the embarrassment he felt in the presence of his mistress. He moved about restlessly in front of Jakoff, interjecting questions without waiting for replies. Everything seemed to be mixed up in his head, and the culminating point of discomfort was reached when he heard Malva remark in a mocking tone—

"Don't jump about like that ... for joy! Take him to the hut and give him a feed."

He glanced at her: a mocking smile, which he knew well, hovered in the corners of her lips, and her whole person, round, soft and fresh as usual, appeared at the same time strange and new to him. Malva was glancing with her green eyes from father to son, while she nibbled carraway seeds with her little white teeth. Jakoff was also smiling, and for a few seconds, which were painful to Vassili, all three were silent.

"I shall be back directly!" cried Vassili suddenly, going towards the hut. "Don't stay there in the sun. I am going to fetch some water.... We'll make some soup. I'll give you some fish-soup to taste, Jakoff! You two look after each other; I shall be with you in a minute,..."

He caught up an earthenware saucepan which was on the ground near the hut, and retired behind the nets, whose grey folds completely hid him from view.

Malva and the lad followed him.

"Well, my fine young man, I have brought you to your father!" said Malva, eyeing Jakoff's robust figure.

He bent towards her his face, covered with its soft, fair beard, and said with sparkling eyes—

"Yes, here we are!... It's fine to be here.... What a stretch of sea!"

"Yes, the sea is wide.... And the old man? Has he changed much?"

"No ... no.... I thought he would be whiter, and he has scarcely any grey hairs.... And he's so ... strong!"

"How long is it since you have seen each other?"

"Five years, perhaps.... When he left the village, I was going on for seventeen."

They went into the hut, where the heat and the smell of the fish were stifling. They sat down—Jakoff on a great log of wood, and Malva on some sacks. Between them was a cask, sawn in half, the bottom half of which Vassili used as a table. When they were settled they looked at each other for some time without speaking.

"It seems you want to get work here?" asked Malva.

"Well ... I don't quite know.... If I find a job ... I will work."

"You'll find one fast enough!" said Malva with assurance, watching him always with her curious oblique green eyes.

He was not looking at her; but with the sleeve of his shirt was wiping away the sweat which covered his face.

All of a sudden she broke into laughter.

"Your mother very likely gave you all sorts of messages and greetings for your father?"

Jakoff replied with a gesture of impatience—

"Of course she did! And what then?..."

"Nothing!" she said, still laughing.

Her mocking laughter displeased Jakoff. He moved away from the woman, and began to think of his mother's words.

When she had accompanied him to the end of the village, she had leant against a gate, speaking quickly, and blinking her dry eyes.

"Tell him, Jakoff, tell him in the name of Christ. 'Father, my mother is alone over there! She is growing old.... Five years have gone by and she is still alone!' Tell him, my little Jakoff, for the love of God! 'My mother will soon be an old woman, alone, always alone, always at work.' In the name of Christ, tell him this." And she had cried quietly, hiding her face in her apron.

Jakoff had not pitied her then, but now he pitied her.... And he glanced at Malva with a hard expression, as if he were going to address her in a tone of coarse abuse.

"Well, here I am!" exclaimed Vassili, appearing with a quivering fish in one hand and a knife in the other.

He had conquered his embarrassment, hiding it deep down within himself. He was able now to look at his guests with serenity and good-humour, though his movements were more abrupt than usual "I am just going to make a fire ... and then I'll be back.... We will talk then. Well, Jakoff! What a fine lad you have grown!" And he disappeared once more.

Malva continued to nibble the grains. She watched Jakoff with an air of familiarity; and he tried not to catch her eye although he longed to do so; and he thought to himself—

"Life must be fine out here; one can eat to one's heart's content. How fat she is, and so is my father!" Then as the silence made him feel nervous, he remarked out loud—"I forgot to get my bag out of the boat.... I'll just go and fetch it."

Jakoff rose slowly and went out. Then Vassili appeared; he bent towards Malva, and said rapidly in an angry voice—

"What did you want to come with him for?... What am I to tell him about you?... What are you to me?"

"I have come, and that's all!" answered Malva.

"You stupid creature! Aren't you ashamed?... What am I to do now? Am I to tell him straight out that ... But I have a wife at home.... His mother.... You might have understood!"

"What does it matter to me? Do you think I'm frightened of him? Or of you?" she asked, screwing up contemptuously her green eyes. "And how you carried on when you first saw him!... What fun it was to see you!"

"You thought it fun, did you?... But what am I going to do?"

"You ought to have thought of that before."

"But could I imagine that the sea was going to throw him up here, without giving me a word of warning?"

Jakoff's footsteps were heard in the sand, and they were obliged to interrupt their conversation. Jakoff had brought back a bag, which he tossed into a corner, glancing angrily towards the woman. She was still nibbling seeds. Vassili sat on the log of wood, rubbing his knee, and said with a constrained smile—

"Well, here you are!... What made you think of coming here?"

"It just came into my head.... We had written to you...."

"When? I didn't get any letter."

"Is that so?... Well, we wrote to you!"

"The letter must have been lost," said Vassili regretfully. "Devil take it!... It's always the important letters that get lost...."

"Then you don't know anything about us?" asked Jakoff distrustfully.

"How should I know anything? I have not received any letter."

Then Jakoff told how their horse had died, how they had eaten all their com before the beginning of February, and how he himself was no longer able to earn a living. There was no more hay left, the cow had been nearly starved to death. They had managed to get along till April, and then they had decided that after the ploughing Jakoff should go and find his father, and should get work somewhere away, during the next three months. This was what they had written. Then they sold three sheep and bought some flour and some hay, after which Jakoff started off.

"Well, I never!" exclaimed Vassili. "How is it possible?... I sent you money!"

"It was little enough, your money! We had to repair the house; and there was the sister's marriage. I bought a plough.... You see, five years is a long time."

"Hm!... So it wasn't enough? What a long story!... And my soup which Is boiling away!"

He rose and went out. Stooping down over the fire, above which hung the boiling-pot Vassili reflected whilst he tossed the scum into the flames.

Nothing in the story told by his son affected him particularly, but he felt irritated with his wife, and with Jakoff. What a lot of money he had sent them during these five years! And they had not managed to get along with it If Malva had not been there he would have spoken out straight to his son. Jakoff had managed very well to leave the village without his father's permission; but with regard to his piece of land it wasn't used up yet And this land, about which Vassili, during his easy, pleasant life had scarcely thought, now returned suddenly to his mind; it appeared to him as a gulf, into which he had been throwing his money, as something useless and embarrassing. He sighed, as with the spoon he stirred the soup.

In the sunlight, the little yellow flame of the fire showed pale and miserable! Threads of blue transparent smoke stretched from the hearth towards the sea, as if going to meet the waves. Vassili followed them with his glance, and thought of his son, of Malva; he was thinking to himself that from this day forth his life would be less pleasant, less free. Surely Jakoff had already guessed what Malva was to him.

She remained in the hut, exciting the lad with her bold, provoking eyes.

"Perhaps you have left your sweetheart behind you in the village," she said suddenly.

"Perhaps I have!" he replied unwillingly.

And in his heart he was abusing Malva.

"Is she pretty?" she asked indifferently.

Jakoff did not reply.

"Why don't you answer?... Is she prettier than I am?"

He looked at her almost against his will. Her cheeks were flushed and sunburnt, her lips full and tempting, and now that a mischievous smile lurked about them, they seemed to tremble. She wore a becoming little blouse of pink cotton, showing the outline of her rounded shoulders, her full and supple bosom. But he did not like her green, cunning, mocking eyes.

"Why do you talk like that?"

He sighed involuntarily, and spoke in a pleading voice; he would have liked, if he could have done so, to have spoken to her in a severe tone.

"How must I speak to you?" she asked, laughing.

"And now you are laughing ... what about?"

"I'm laughing at you...."

"What have I done?" he asked crossly.

And again he dropped his eyes before her glance.

She did not reply.

Jakoff had a very shrewd idea of what her relations with his father were, and that prevented him from speaking openly. He was not in the least astonished; he had heard it said, that when people worked far away from the village they lost their habits of respectability; and besides it would have been difficult for a strong man like his father to do without a woman for such a long time. But nevertheless he felt awkward both on her account, and on that of his father. And then he remembered once more his mother, harassed and complaining, who was working over there without rest or help.

"The soup is ready!" Vassili announced, standing at the door of the hut. "Give us the spoons, Malva."

Jakoff looked at his father and thought—

"One can see she comes here often, for she knows where everything is."

When she had found the spoons, she said she must go down to the sea to wash them, and that in the boat she had some vodka.

The father and son watched her as she walked away, and, when they found themselves alone, remained silent.

"Where did you meet her?" said Vassili at last

"I asked at the office where you were; she was there. And she said to me—'Why go on foot along the sand? Let us go in the boat; I also am going to see him.' And we set off."

"Yes?... Well, I have often said to myself, 'I wonder how he is now, my Jakoff?'"

The son smiled good-naturedly. This gave Vassili back his courage.

"And ... how are you?"

"Oh! all right ..." said Jakoff, dropping his eyelids.

"What the devil could I do?" exclaimed Vassili, waving his arms about "I kept straight at first ... But I couldn't go on like that It was habit ... you see I am a married man!... And then she mends my clothes, and so on.... Besides, one can't escape either women or death!"

This simple maxim seemed to bring his explanation to a close.

"What does it matter to me?" said Jakoff. "It's your business, I am not your judge."

But he thought to himself—"I should like to see her mending his trousers!"

"I am forty-five; that's not old yet ... She costs me very little; why the devil should she?... she is not my wife!..." continued Vassili.

"Of course not!" admitted Jakoff.

But he thought—"I bet she makes his money slip through her fingers!"

Malva had returned with a bottle of vodka and a string of little rolls; they sat down to dinner. They ate without talking, sucking the fish-bones noisily, and spitting them on to the sand near the door. Jakoff devoured his portion, and this seemed to please Malva. She watched with a tender expression his great sunburnt jaws chewing, his cheeks distending, and his thick, moist lips moving. Vassili was not hungry; he attempted to appear absorbed in his meal, so as to be able to observe at his ease Jakoff and Malva, and to think over the way in which he should behave towards them.

The joyful and caressing music of the wave............