&ldquo;&lsquo;Comrade&mdash;&rsquo; he begins. </p> <p> &ldquo;&lsquo;There are no comrades here. I am your patron.&rsquo; </p> <p> &ldquo;&lsquo;Patron, then,&rsquo; he says, &lsquo;in the name of humanity let us rest.&rsquo; </p> <p> &ldquo;I let them. There was a little rainwater washing about the bottom of the boat. I permitted them to snatch some of it in the hollow of their palms. But as I gave the command, &lsquo;En route!&rsquo; I caught them exchanging significant glances. They thought I would have to go to sleep sometime! Aha! But I did not want to go to sleep. I was more awake than ever. It is they who went to sleep as they pulled, tumbling off the thwarts head over heels suddenly, one after another. I let them lie. All the stars were out. It was a quiet world. The sun rose. Another day. Allez! En route! </p> <p> &ldquo;They pulled badly. Their eyes rolled about and their tongues hung out. In the middle of the forenoon Mafile croaks out: &lsquo;Let us make a rush at him, Simon. I would just as soon be shot at once as to die of thirst, hunger, and fatigue at the oar.&rsquo; </p> <p> &ldquo;But while he spoke he pulled; and Simon kept on pulling too. It made me smile. Ah! They loved their life these two, in this evil world of theirs, just as I used to love my life, too, before they spoiled it for me with their phrases. I let them go on to the point of exhaustion, and only then I pointed at the sails of a ship on the horizon. </p> <p> &ldquo;Aha! You should have seen them revive and buckle to their work! For I kept them at it to pull right across that ship&rsquo;s path. They were changed. The sort of pity I had felt for them left me. They looked more like themselves every minute. They looked at me with the glances I remembered so well. They were happy. They smiled. </p> <p> &ldquo;&lsquo;Well,&rsquo; says Simon, &lsquo;the energy of that youngster has saved our lives. If he hadn&rsquo;t made us, we could never have pulled so far out into the track of ships. Comrade, I forgive you. I admire you.&rsquo; </p> <p> &ldquo;And Mafile growls from forward: &lsquo;We owe you a famous debt of gratitude, comrade. You are cut out for a chief.&rsquo; </p> <p> &ldquo;Comrade! Monsieur! Ah, what a good word! And they, such men as these two, had made it accursed. I looked at them. I remembered their lies, their promises, their menaces, and all my days of misery. Why could they not have left me alone after I came out of prison? I looked at them and thought that while they lived I could never be free. Never. Neither I nor others like me with warm hearts and weak heads. For I know I have not a strong head, monsieur.